A voice called to her, a woman's voice. The words drifted into Funmi's ears like wisps of eerie smoke lurking in the air around her, and yet it had a tinge of kindness to it. The words were unclear, and Funmi had trouble making them out, but it sounded like the woman was saying, Open your eyes.

Funmi's eyes opened slowly but saw nothing. Only darkness prevailed, like she was trapped in a cave and not a single ray of light struck her eyes. Cold air rushed in and out of her mouth, ridding her lips of every moisture, until they grew thin and flaky, like she was starved. But Funmi did not feel hungry or thirsty. All she knew was cold, darkness and old memories—memories from many years ago, those that had been lost to her, that she hadn't thought about since she was five. The memories danced in her head and made Funmi feel warm inside. She drew in a deep breath, welcoming the smell of dried wood and fried meat—but this smell was rancid, like the meat had been burnt for too long, and left out to rot in the sun.

The burnt smell brought back an old memory about her sister, from all those years ago: Funmi had been hungry but wouldn't go to the kitchen to cook, because she was afraid of the fire and she always stayed away from flames. She needed her maid to prepare her a meal, but Funmi did not find the girl. Funmi could not wait for the maid to turn up; hunger pangs clawed at her stomach, so she turned to her older sister, Titi, to prepare the meal for her. Titi listened, but while the meal cooked, the fire lost control and burnt the house down with its fiery flames. Their mother had carried her children and raced out of the house before the flames engulfed them. When the fire finally died, all their properties had been destroyed, and their maid fled and was never seen again. Funmi's mother claimed it was the maid's fault the house burnt, which is why the maid disappeared, but deep down in Funmi's heart she knew whose fault it truly was. Her mother said the maid must have gone back to the village to be with her family—after all, her father was a pastor; he would surely welcome her.

The memory weighed on Funmi, even there in the darkness. It was one she had forced herself to forget all these years—why was she remembering it now?

The darkness grew thicker, and it started to feel like Funmi was trapped in a box. She held herself, crossing her arms over her bosom; her fingers trailed a dotted coat of goose bumps on her forearm. Her touch was gentle, and the goose bumps felt sensitive amidst the little bits of hair on her skin, causing her weird pleasure. It was the nicest feeling she had known since forever, the most comforting. Her fingers traced a path up her arms, to her shoulders, and to her collar bones. They went down the parting of her feeble breasts, and beneath them, and around them, one finger encircling each breast, and again, and she closed her eyes and let her mind relax with the soothing sensation of her own touch. Her fingers found their way to her nipples, touching gently like a baby's kiss, and Funmi continued, finding joy, until she suddenly stopped.

That was when it dawned on her that she was naked.

Her eyes shot open. Her hands rushed to her body, touching her torso in heightened frenzy, as though to confirm, like she couldn't feel air caressing her naked skin. Her hands went down to her thighs, to the wetness in between, and down her skinny legs.

She truly was naked.

Footsteps approached her from a distance; feet pressing against wooden floor. Funmi's head whipped to the direction of the steps but there was no image in the darkness. It seemed like she was blind, and yet she knew something was coming. The floor creaked with every step as the thing drew closer to her and she sensed the presence in the shadows. She was not alone.

"W-Who's there?" Funmi called.

A sudden surge of guilt and disgust filled her chest. Her fingers curled and she tried to cover her body in shame. Her dried lips quivered, and her legs were like noodles beneath her weight—it was a crippling fear that someone might have been watching when she touched herself. If she couldn't see the person, could the person see her? The steps grew more audible, closer, quickening Funmi's heartbeat. She strained her eyes, trying to look deeper into the enveloping darkness, but there was nothing. Funmi swallowed, with no idea what was there—what was coming. Should she run? She moved her feet and the wooden floor squeaked when her weight shifted.

The woman's voice from before came again, still a whispering in the air: Open your tar eyes now.

Funmi flinched, startled, and stared around with trembling lips. She looked every direction, but could not tell where the voice came from. "My eyes are open," she cried. "I can't see anything! Everywhere is just dark."

Not your eyes. Open your two-eyes. It was a harsh whisper this time, carrying urgency, but the words were hardly audible.

"What?" Funmi's face scrunched up, lost at the words, until it slowly dawned on her. She finally understood what the voice was trying to say. "My true eyes?" It did not make much sense though. Her true eyes were already open. But Funmi tried. She had to try. The creaking steps were getting even closer and nothing seemed friendly about it at all. She closed her eyes again and tried to relax, taking deep breaths, and she tried to block out the sound of footsteps and the smell of wood, until the only thing she perceived was the burnt meat. She liked the smell, and she let it fill her nose until she craved something stronger than fear. Something true. Reality. She smiled and opened her eyes.

But all she saw was still darkness. "No," Funmi breathed.

She closed her eyes again, tighter this time, squeezing her eyeballs, and she opened it again, but the darkness remained. She tried again. Darkness. She rubbed her eyes with her fists and blinked rapidly, but the darkness did not falter. "It's not working," she shouted into the air.

The steps returned, closer than ever, only a few steps away from her. It covered the distance between them and halted, breathing right in front of her. The breaths were warm, but Funmi saw nothing. She wanted to stretch her arms to touch, but she could not find the courage to do so, and she had no idea who it was. Or what it was. But she did not speak anymore—she couldn't, really. She only stood there, waiting for it to make the first move. She wondered if it could hear her heart thumping in her chest. She hoped not—she did not want it to know she was afraid.

"Funmi."

Funmi screamed and jumped back. She tripped over a wooden structure behind her and fell, her bare buttocks hitting the floor. The voice was male. It was gentle, but she hadn't expected it to speak or even know her name.

"Are you all right? I'm sorry I frightened you." The voice came back.

"You're a boy," Funmi said, almost disappointed, like she had hoped for something more. She pushed herself up and stood again, and as though she just remembered that she was naked, she rushed to cover her breasts with one hand and her second hand covered the sensitive area between her thighs. It was a little hairy—the hairs were like cushion against her palm, and her body shifted in embarrassment. She covered herself like she was guarding her life and she turned sideways. "Can you see anything?" her voice was shaky.

"Not a single thing," he said. "I know you're scared, but it's okay. I'm here to help you, to save you."

His voice had passion. And even though Funmi couldn't see him, she imagined a sincere look in his eyes. She was all alone and she needed a friend—she yearned for a friend, anyone to help make sense out of this darkness. "Who are you, and how did you even know my name?"

"You really don't remember my voice?"

Funmi scoffed. "Should I? I remember my old life and my family, and my maid, things I shouldn't remember anymore, that I thought I had forgotten... but I don't remember much of anything else. I just know I shouldn't be here, in this place, and I just want to get out."

"You had a maid?"

"Yes," Funmi said, then turned away. "But she abandoned us after an accident in my house, many years ago. I don't know... my mother said she fled, because the accident was her fault."

"And was it her fault?" Jonathan asked.

Funmi shrugged. She didn't want to talk about it, but she had silently blamed herself for causing the fire, for too long. It was her fault their maid ran away. Her mother silently blamed her too, even though no one ever said it—even though it was Titi who technically caused the fire, Funmi was the one who received the cold, long stares. And Funmi felt so guilty, that she soon began to starve herself and eat so little, that her body shrunk, and she looked like a boy. Funmi loved this new identity, being a boy, and she would shave her head to fit the part. It made her feel stronger. Invincible, like she was someone else and whatever she did as this person didn't matter. Her mother once told her she wanted a male child when Funmi was born, and so Funmi thought her mother would be proud of her now. But it never really worked.

"There was someone else. A woman. I heard her voice telling me to open my eyes. Is she here with you?"

"She spoke to you? Listen to me very carefully." His tone was full of dread. "There's no woman with me. I'm literally the only friend you have right now, and I'm the only one who can save you and get you out of here. If you die in this place, you'll lose yourself forever. You have to trust me."

Do I have a choice? "You haven't even told me your name."

"My name is Jonathan."

Funmi smiled, and she was glad he couldn't see it because she did not think her smile was pretty. "I've always wanted a friend named Jonathan."

"And now you have one. I'll help you, I promise."