After what felt like centuries of pain and suffering, you finally felt like you could breathe. As if a huge, sharp, cutting weight had been lifted off your back — and why? Because the upper floors had finally fallen. The pain and suffering they made you and the lower floors go through was finally over, and now they’d stay tied up for as long as you wanted.

You sat down, exhausted, next to 2nd Floor, her posture just as worn out. It took at least ten minutes for your breathing to calm down; your hands were still sweaty and trembling, your face flushed and wet with a mix of dried tears and the sticky sweat of countless days without a proper bath. And yet, even in that state, you couldn’t stop the euphoria coursing through your body — you were finally free from those merciless daily tortures.

2nd Floor looked at you with a hardened expression, her face and clothes stained with blood, as the two of you tried to process what had just happened. Then, a sudden wave of reality hit you: she was still hurt. Badly hurt.

You had to treat her — or better yet, take her to 5. 5 was a nurse, wasn’t she? She knew how to care for people. Yes... yes. Take her to 5. That’s what you needed to do.

You stood up quickly, almost falling from the malnutrition you and the other lower floors had been enduring, but you managed. You extended your trembling hand toward the girl, who remained seated.

— Come on... let's go ask 5 to treat your wounds.

She lifted her head and looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher — and, out of pure exhaustion, you didn’t even try. After about ten seconds of awkward silence, with you still standing there like an idiot, hand outstretched, just as you were about to give up and pull it back... you felt something firm wrap around your wrist.

2nd Floor stood up with difficulty, her body covered in wounds that must’ve been burning like hell. She tried to keep up her tough, strong mask — but didn’t last long before stumbling toward you and leaning on your shoulder, relief in her posture.

— Treat my wounds.

— What?

You looked at her, incredulous, wondering if you’d heard that right. She simply took a step forward, dragging you along with little effort.

— I won’t repeat myself — she said, clear and to the point, continuing to walk.

You snapped out of your daze and started walking too, careful not to put pressure on her injuries or cause her more pain than she was already in. After a quiet walk, you finally arrived at her room. You opened the door, and once both of you were inside, she closed it.

You moved carefully through her small room. Water bottles filled with urine and bags of... waste — scattered across the floor. Even with the shocking and disgusting sight, it was the least of your concerns as long as 2 was hurt and by your side.

She walked over to the phone and, with a tired voice, requested alcohol, bandages, and other supplies for her wounds. She didn’t care at all about the absurd amount of money she was about to spend.

With everything in hand, you pushed the trash and clutter into a corner and gently sat her down on the floor.

— Can you roll up your sleeve? — you asked, a little hesitant, as you grabbed a piece of cotton and poured some alcohol on it.

After a few minutes, even with your inexperienced hands, you had treated most of her injuries. However, something you’d noticed briefly kept haunting your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it: 2’s hands were still shaking, her breath still held traces of panic, her expression still stern, her body still tense — as if something terrible might happen at any moment.

2 was being treated on the outside, her wounds tended to with care and gentleness — but inside, she still needed help. The kind of help you were more than willing to give.

— It’s over — you said, not looking her in the eyes, still tending to her wounds.

She looked at you with a confused expression, her emotional walls slowly starting to crumble.

— What? — she asked, though she already knew what you meant.

— I said it’s over — you repeated without hesitation. Your voice was calm and kind.

You noticed her expression begin to soften. The silence shifted from awkward to peaceful, even comforting. The atmosphere in the room changed, settling into something quieter, gentler.

You hoped your words were enough to calm her down. You hoped your words were enough to calm yourself, too.

After tying the last knot on 2’s bandages, you looked up with a smile, ready to say something — when...

You nearly fell backward from the sudden force with which she hugged you. Your face shifted to surprise, but that didn’t last long. Within seconds, you returned the embrace — still careful not to hurt her.

— Thank you — she said before you could even finish your thought. Her voice was calm — and this time, truly so.

— I didn’t do anything special — you replied, maybe a little too proud of how mature your voice sounded.

But that moment of peace was abruptly broken by the harsh sound of something tearing. 2’s body stiffened in your arms.

— Can you... treat me again?