As the sun was setting, drowning the sky in the deep, emotionless blue of the starry night, the silent tears of a broken heart kept dripping on a pair of small hands that was running up and down the keys of a piano. The sorrowful tunes that were emitting with every stroke reflected Xenja's mental state perfectly, as the only person who had accepted her broke up after finding out about her disorder.

Xenja's selective mutism kept her from making friends and left her in depression throughout grade and high school until she met Amy, a girl she only knew over the internet. No anxiety, no deafening heartbeat in her ear. She could text with her all day, without someone constantly pressuring her into talking. It went on for two months, and somewhere along the way, they became a couple. 

It was Xenja's first long interaction with someone outside her family, and obviously her first relationship. Though there were plenty of firsts, Amy didn't seem to have enough. Someday, she suddenly started calling Xenja over the phone.

The immense pressure and nervousness that Xenja usually only got at school suddenly crashed down on her as her phone started ringing for the first time. She didn't pick up, she couldn't, and she hoped that it was a mistake, that Amy meant to call someone else. From then on, sadly, her phone showed Amy's face with a green and red button at least once a day. 

Day after day, Xenja made up excuses that justified why she was able to text but not answer her phone, scared that Amy would end things if she learned the truth. But words can only convey that much, and after being lied to over and over again, Amy snapped. The explanation about Xenja's condition, the truth, came weeks late, irreversible damage had been done.

The anchor that held Xenja's mind from drifting off into restless places, the wall that kept her depression out, crumbled and fell. The words Amy had used cut deep and hurt more than the breakup itself. Xenja's hate for her condition and herself fuel once again. Hate which had been gone for over five weeks.

Egoistic, hurtful, unloving. Those were just parts of Amy's fit which had Xenja in shambles. Anyone would be able to see the obvious, recognize that she was not at fault. Anyone but herself. 

The muffled sound of a phone vibrating came from the bed, as Amy's insults and blame still hadn't stopped. Missing many notes of the song she was playing, Xenja got up and went to shut up the annoying device. One last time she opened the chat she had spent many joyful hours in over the last few weeks, typing her final goodbyes to her by-now-ex, "You were the only one I could call a friend, the only person I was close to. I was so happy having someone who made me feel human, someone who made me forget that I'm dysfunctional. I was naive to think that I was worthy of a normal life. Thank you for making me hate myself again."

Xenja didn't wait for a reply, nor did she care about the wall of text that Amy had sent her before. With what felt like a shot through her heart, she pressed the small three dots on her screen before blocking Amy's contact. It hurt her, a lot even, to block that person after all this time. But she didn't want Amy to spend more time on messaging her, as she felt that she wasn't worthy of more of Amy's time.

Lying down in bed, Xenja felt abandoned, broken. She threw her phone further away from her before lying down on her front to suffocate the sobs in one of the pillows, feeling the wetness of her tears form on the cushion. Her short build on the big, empty bed was a painfully lonely sight, a sight which should make anyone want to protect this girl.

Sadly, the one person who should be affected by this the most seemed to be immune to it. The clicking of high heels announced her in the hallway from far away. Xenja tried her best to stop the tears from coming, but in vain. When the sound of steps stopped next to the bed, Xenja already knew what to expect when she looked up. She saw her mother's usual forced smile on the round, wrinkly face of hers, lots of makeup trying to cover up the dark circles under her grayish-blue eyes. Both the makeup and her blonde-dyed hair were covering her age while also trying to make her flat features seem more defined. Xenja hated seeing her like that because she knew what it meant. 

That woman would once again leave for one of the nightclubs and then either return drunk late at night or spend the night in some stranger's bed. Seeing as she had no job and still could afford not only the expensive apartment they were living in but also well-known and costly fashion, it wouldn't come as a surprise to Xenja if she charged money for being someone's late-night enjoyment. Since Xenja's father left them a few years back, her mother's mental state was going downhill, but she always tried to act as if the family was just as happy as when he was still alive.

"Xenja? What's wrong?" she asked for the third time, as Xenja unwillingly ignored the previous questions. She let her face drop back down into the pillow, tasting her own salty tears as she spoke to the only person her condition didn't restrict her from speaking to, "Why does no one care about how I feel? It's not like I want to be alone. I want to talk to people and make friends, but only speaking through my whiteboard isn't working."

A few seconds passed without a response before Xenja could feel her mother hugging her lightly from behind. Although that was what she needed, someone who lovingly embraced her and made the loneliness disappear, she moved to the side, freeing herself from her mother's arms. The feeling Xenja got from her was not nearly as warm and loving as the hugs she gave years ago. This wasn't what she was longing for, she wanted to be cuddled with love, just as it was in the past, but all she got now were forced smiles and cold hugs.

Then her mother spoke, "It's not like they ignore you because they want to, you just need to stand out more. Make yourself seen, you know?"

"And how exactly should I do that when you are the only person I can talk to?" Xenja snappily responded, her voice cracking at the end and tears starting to flow again.

Her mother sighed before speaking - clearly only because it was her duty as a mother, "I'll try to come up with something. How about I call the school and ask if any of the teachers can help?"

Xenja wasn't sure how school should be of any help. It was just a classroom full of people who acted as if she didn't exist. Xenja wanted to decline the offer when she saw her mother already leaving the room while dialing a number on her phone. The clicking of her high heels echoed through the hallway again, while she was adjusting her too short and revealing black dress, as Xenja could hear the conversation start.

It went on for quite a while, with her mother'S voice becoming snappy the longer she had to deal with her daughter's unnecessary troubles. Whoever she was talking to seemed to ask her multiple questions, especially about Xenja's skills on the piano. When the call finally ended after several minutes of Xenja'S building anxiety, the woman came back to the room and spoke, "There is a girl at school who wants to take piano lessons but can't pay for it. The principal said you could teach her for free and you'll have a friend. Her name is Stevie and she will come over later today, so be ready."

Upon hearing that, Xenja's heart seemed to speed up in an instant, sweat forming on her forehead. The thought of having a stranger in her room had her scared, but she knew that she couldn't change that fact anymore. It was decided that she would be coming over, so Xenja had no choice but to look up how to teach someone to play the piano.

Determined to make this unpleasant situation worth its while and grasp this chance to make her first real friend, she took out a sheet of paper and started writing, [What to teach Stevie].