Even in the darkest times, the sun rises and sets. On and on. Time passes, and with it, days and nights. An ongoing cycle, unaffected by the actions of humans and events in the world.

A few of these neverending cycles later, Stevie still hadn't forgotten the events of that evening. She didn't know how badly she had hurt Xenja, nor that Xenja still hadn't stopped crying out of loneliness and depression. Those were feelings not imaginable to her. All she knew was that what she did was wrong and that she made this girl cry - both of those things weren't new for her. Therefore she wasn't sure why they still made her feel like going to see Xenja, apologize, and even beg for forgiveness if necessary. 

Was it because she still wanted to learn how to play the piano but closed off her one chance? Or was it because she now also knew how it felt to cry from someone else's words? Or was it - this thought alone made her pray for forgiveness in her mind - because she fell for Xenja; her elegant posture, those green eyes and this strong, warm smile she gave her while teaching?

If anyone could look inside her head they would immediately know that, in fact, all three of these thoughts were true. Stevie however, forced herself to become oblivious, cover all of them by putting the blame on Xenja's condition.

As Stevie was walking home from school, pushing the memories of Xenja from one side of her mind to the other, going back and forth between 'I want to forget her' and 'I want to see her,' her anger at Xenja's condition prevailed.

Not the girl herself, just selective mutism in general. Stevie was sure that it was the only wall between Xenja and her, which, of course, only mattered because she wanted to take piano lessons. 

Her anger eventually turned into curiosity, genuine interest in the condition that Xenja had to live with. Why, she thought, would people develop this disability, when talking was normally such a simple task?

She understood that there were people who physically couldn't speak, nevertheless the idea of someone only being able to talk in front of specific people didn't make sense to her. Possibly, Stevie would have understood better if she herself didn't have the habit of always speaking her mind without thinking.

Lost in her thoughts, Stevie didn't realize that she had missed her turn a while ago, aimlessly walking down the road. Looking around like a lost child, she realized that she had been in this area a while ago. She recognized the tall buildings, the frozen road and the balconies with plants on them. Just moments earlier she had passed the door she came rushing out from days ago.

Staring at the apartment building she was hit by thoughts of ringing the bell and apologizing, thoughts of looking into those green eyes once more. 

While trying to push those memories aside and walk home, she turned around and made a few steps until she stopped in her track, stunned by the view in front of her eyes. A view, that brought back the other evening as if it were happening then and there, memory after memory. The moment when she entered the room and saw Xenja's small back at the piano. The moment Xenja turned around to reveal her green eyes. The moment their hands touched, warm and soft. Nonetheless, the moment when Stevie yelled at her tutor, the moment Xenja cried, the feeling of instant regret. Furthermore, possibly the most memorable, the instant which caused Stevie to permanently take off the silver cross from her wrist. Her sinning in the bath.

"Xenja..." she spoke quietly after a while of silence, still staring at the girl that was looking as shocked as herself. Xenja trembled from side to side. As if seeing the sight of this girl pierced through the shell which Stevie used to hide in, all those constructed lies shattered, fell apart.

Stevie knew it was all her fault, knew Xenja wasn't to blame in this matter. She wanted to talk to her, undo the evening they shared, start anew. 

"Xenja!" Stevie repeated, this time in a loud voice that made the addressed girl jump and turn in fright. With a quick dash, running almost, Xenja moved to the door and closed it right behind her.

The short distance between them was enough to keep Stevie from catching up in time, the entrance had closed right in front of her face. She was hit by a wall of frustration, had she not been able to apologize to the girl she hurt, had she not been able to use this second chance she got.

She was looking through the window in the door, seeing Xenja standing on the inside shaking. Stevie had noticed the shadows beneath those watery green eyes. Had she hurt the girl badly enough for her to still cry and miss out on sleep? Or did something else happen? Stevie didn't know, couldn't know, but she felt that she had to know, no matter what. If it was her fault then she had to make it up. If it wasn't then she had to help Xenja through it. She owed it to herself and - even more so - to the hurt girl in front of her eyes.

"I'm so sorry!" yelled Stevie, standing outside the door, her voice slightly muffled by the cold wind, "I was being stupid and conceited... Please, let me make it up to you..."

Only after her voice cracked she noticed the streams of tears coming down from her own eyes, tears of pain, hope, relief, since the moment she spotted Xenja then and there. 

For a moment she fell silent, hoping the door would open and Xenja would give her another chance. She couldn't do more than belief in the small chance she had. She didn't think it possible for the hurt girl to forgive her like that, not with the risk of getting hurt again.

Stevie didn't look inside, fixing her eyes to the ground. She didn't dare to look up. If Xenja had walked away just like that, she would hate herself even more. And if Xenja was still there, crying pained tears, then the same would be the case.

As expected, with Stevie's crying eyes directed at her own feet, the door didn't open. The cold and silent snow still being her sole companion.

A while passed, it could've been seconds, minutes. She didn't care. The pain and despair turned to destructive anger at herself, anger at Xenja, anger at purely existing.

"Please..." she whispered at first, "Please!" she yelled the second time, "Goddammit!" she snapped and gripped her wrist in defense, ashamed of having mentioned God in the face of her own sin.

She stepped away, turned around, still not looking inside, scared of what she'd see. That went for both the inside of the building behind her, as well as the inside of her mind, swarming with hate towards and of herself.