We Are Still Friends

I stood at the familiar station for only five minutes, and life over the past few years already seemed unreal. I just got off a rumbling, stuffy bus, but it was as if I had never really left this place. Sleepy, sticky, seemingly bathed not in the sun but in diluted honey. Every time, it seemed to me that if we didn’t manage to get out in time, we would remain there, frozen alive, like insects in amber. Mike was not there. There was no one at the station at all, and I, as every time, doubted whether he would come. Maybe something happened to him. Maybe he decided he'd had enough. Maybe he decided to take a chance and see what would happen if we tried to resist.

I carefully examined the bus station, trying to see something that had never been there before. Every time, I hoped that every little detail would change. That would mean the presence of at least some real life around. An overflowing trash can, butts on the asphalt, a bag forgotten in a hurry, something. But that was a false hope. That place was empty, and people had never lived there. I mean real people.

A dusty, almost colorless stall with all sorts of little things, even during my childhood. It was impossible to make out what was sold there and how much it cost. And it’s better not to come closer. The window was always covered with cardboard, promising the seller's return in five minutes, but neither in five nor in five million minutes, no one returned there. There was always someone inside; we were just smart enough not to check it out. In my head, I instantly pictured a cramped, dark space filled with stuffy air and dust. And something slumbering, designed to represent a salesman. It was hastily put together, muttering overheard fragments of phrases and giving out change with a cracked, six-fingered hand. Mike once put a small coin on a change saucer that was hot from the heat. The cardboard moved away with a rustling sound, and the hand gave us a dirty piece of foil. It no longer sold tickets. But that was a long time ago when we still hoped to find at least something to free ourselves and our friends...

Empty benches, as if specially installed away from the canopy in front of the station building... Everything there seemed not to have been made for people. But, on the other hand, no one really used them. The windows in the building were so dirty that only slow, fuzzy shadows were visible, and sometimes the unintelligible echoes of announcements could be heard. What they announced was a mystery: no buses arrived or departed; mine was the only one. The doors to the building with the ticket offices and waiting room were firmly closed. But as soon as you approached, your hair stood on end from causeless fear, and everything frozen inside. The sounds stopped, the shadows stopped flickering, and there was a feeling that something hungry and greedy was pressing against the door on the other side. Just turn the handle harder...

The sun was scorching mercilessly, but I didn’t want to leave the station alone, and I didn’t believe that Mike would never show up. I simply couldn’t go through this all again on my own. But he was still not there, and the shadows gradually grew, much faster than they should. The shadows hinted that it was time for me to “go home.” My friends were probably already waiting for me...

And they will always be waiting. We left them specifically for that.

I hesitated a little more, still not wanting to believe that Mike would not be there. But the door of the stall creaked welcomingly. So far, there was only darkness in the opening, but a sticky feeling of threat was already filling the air. I didn’t want to know who was sitting there and who sold us these damn tickets, so I turned doomedly towards the town.

"Hey!"

I turned around with relief; Mike appeared from around the corner of the station.

He clumsily approached; the sound of his crutch on the ground echoed in my ears and made me shudder. I wasn't going to pretend to be happy to see him. It’s not even necessary to pretend anymore.

Mike came closer, and I was surprised to note how much better he looked since the last time we met. His gray temples were the same red color as his entire hair. Expensive clothes, neat hair—he even smelled of some kind of perfume—and not just tobacco and hospital. As far as I knew, he was a doctor. He never told me about himself. We diligently avoided each other but still inexplicably came across mutual acquaintances and mentions of each other, although we lived in different parts of the country. I was sure that it was our common secret that kept us from completely moving away from each other; it reminded us that no matter how far we went, we would meet in this town again. That sooner or later, from the day of the last meeting, we would begin to have terrible dreams, and a week later, a bus ticket purchased by someone unknown would appear on the table as if by chance. And no matter where we were, that bus would take us home to the hated past in a couple of hours.

“Hello,” Mike said, disappointed and at the same time with some kind of relief. He was probably also afraid that I wouldn’t come.

We were always brought to different memorable places. Last time, it was a bridge over an almost dry river, where we gathered as teenagers. For the first time, it was the same cozy nook in front of the school, where we smoked cigarettes with “fruit” flavors and shared our incredible problems. I think it was there that Mike first asked me if I wanted to leave everything as it was. What exactly “as it was” meant, I, slightly drowsy from the mixture of cheap liqueur and beer, did not immediately understand. Well, at this bus station, we made the worst decision of our lives. I don’t even know if it would be possible to do something worse than what we did.

Mike always loved to talk and poke his finger into a wound; it was as if he physically could not stand the tense silence of the empty town around us. Or maybe he was trying to shake me up, knowing full well that somewhere deep inside I considered his guilt greater than mine. Although I understood perfectly well that that was self-deception, I was an equal participant in this nightmare.

I didn’t know where he got the strength to just walk and chat like that, knowing what was ahead. I was not going to say a single word, even though we hadn’t seen each other for several years. We were about to go out onto a wide street lined with poplars and lilacs. And all was going to begin...

The heat subsided, the sun stopped burning mercilessly, and the long-dry river suddenly smelled cool, as if water was flowing there again. Part of me knew that was all unreal, and the wind blowing from the river slightly smelled of carrion and the rot of stagnant water, but I didn’t want to notice it. In the beginning, this place plunged you into euphoria, took you back to the past, and made you forget everything that happened in your life after the incident when Mike lost his leg. Ten years had passed.

And I still didn’t know if we were really being transported back in time or if something was creating such a strong illusion around us, but the fact was a fact. Everything was repeated as it was years ago; everything was felt as it was back then. We both understood everything, but once events reached a certain point, there was no control over the situation.

Just like...

I was walking next to Mike and knew he had no longer a crutch. But I also knew that if I rubbed my eyes until it hurt, his damn crutch would be there. Because his leg had not grown back. All that place was a big illusion.

A nasty voice inside me casually noticed that nothing terrible would happen before nightfall, and I could forget myself a little, fall into the warm sludge of memories, and not think about what we had to do.

The town seemed to come to life. I heard cars and the hubbub of people around me, but I couldn’t focus. The images were believable but in some kind of light haze. I already knew that we shouldn't concentrate on anything because we could see different things. Unpleasant things. Especially if you tried to look at their faces. The town took images from our memory; we had already seen all those people, but, for example, it was awful to see my dead neighbor happily walking along the embankment. And it’s better not to disturb the illusion. Otherwise, that illusion might affect you. The first time we arrived, Mike could not resist seeing his grandfather, who died long ago, sitting near the garage in the cool shade of the grapes. Mike concentrated all his attention but realized with horror that it was a creature molded from some scraps of meat, and the appearance of an old man was created by a strange cloud swirling around. Dirty feathers, someone's small paw, and, it seemed, a toe were sticking out of the creature. All the “people” were fake. Everyone except our friends.

I didn't try to look at grisly details but gave in without a fight. In the end, so far, what had been created around us was not trying to harm us.

We began to change, too. Me and Mike. The small wrinkles of everyday worries were disappearing; my early gray hair had not yet appeared; we were both becoming the same as we were ten years ago.

I begin to care much less about what is happening around me because I am sixteen again. And my best friend is walking next to me. And he will invite me to leave everything “as it is.” And this is not about our relationship, no. This is much more important. He will offer it to me, not to Andy or Lily.

Mike looks completely different. Part of me realizes that he, too, sees me as a girl, with an absurdly dyed pink strand in front of my face and a fake ring in the wing of my nose. Something inside me shrinks at how wrong this all is. Wearing an Exploited T-shirt, torn by time and life, but indestructible, cheap, dusty black and white sneakers on our feet. And I want to laugh for some reason when he deliberately casually nods his head to the right. Mike points to the street, where inside an ancient house with caryatids there is a shabby little shop. And the saleswoman doesn’t care at all how old the customers are.

I sit comfortably on the railing of the stairs at the entrance to the store when Mike playfully tries to push me off, but I still maintain my balance. The real me, ten years older, glances back and manages to notice how something large and slimy in the bushes behind me trembles and lazily stirs. But sixteen-year-old me simply doesn’t give a damn about it, putting my hand into the pocket of a raincoat washed almost to gray, bought at a second-hand store, and pulling out a handful of coins. I stretch out my hand and open my palm with broken nails, painted with cheap black varnish, right in front of Mike’s dissatisfied face.

"All my savings."

“It’s offensive, but I’ll have to accept it." He deftly slaps my palm from below, catching the coins. "We can’t go empty-handed... Beer?"

"No." I frown. "At least buy some wine. Or vodka and cola. They’ll drink your beer in a couple of minutes, and I don't have money."

“What about liqueurs and beer?"

The older part of me shudders, imagining what kind of colorful hangover will happen tomorrow from cheap liquor, especially since everything has always been repeated according to the same scenario, but... sixteen-year-old me is fine.

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Mike hurries me. “We’ll buy it together. I don’t want to stand there alone like a fool.”

“Bro, go on yourself." I don’t want to go through this awkward moment, but my friend is not going to make my life easier.

“Then I’ll just buy beer,” he grins, and I drag myself inside with a grumble.

It's dark and stuffy inside. Fly strips hang from the ceiling, completely covered with insect corpses, but a swarm still circles the store. The saleswoman stares at us emotionlessly, and I have to deliberately avert my eyes so as not to see how unlike a person she is. In the corner, someone is quietly moaning and muttering, apparently intending to impersonate another customer. He repeats something shrilly and sometimes hits the wall with his soft, seemingly boneless shoulders... It is clear that he is drawn to us, but something is holding him back at a distance. A casual glance—and now I notice too-long arms without elbows, scraping the ground with yellow nails, and a thread of saliva hanging to the floor.

Mike puts his arm around my shoulders in understanding, turning me towards the cash register. I exhale; the illusion has been restored—just another drunk behind our backs.

“Hello, ma'am."

I mentally sob with shame. For some reason, Mike believes that such a greeting helps him look older and more respectable.

"We want two bottles of liqueur, the one on the bottom shelf, and a couple of cheaper bottles of beer."

The saleswoman, turning only her upper body, takes out dusty bottles. Mike asks for smoke, and something disgustingly squishes inside her when she reaches up, curved like a snake. I look away again, hear the clinking of coins, and pull Mike up with me into the air and light.

“Perhaps we should try it." He feigns a sigh, squinting in the rays of the slowly setting sun, unscrewing the lid, and taking a sip. "So that no one gets poisoned, hehe..."

I do the same, and warmth spreads through my body, and a pleasant hit of hops hits my head. “What are you drinking? Everything here is not real. It’s probably some old, rotten water." I panic, but after a couple of seconds, I calm down, succumbing to a slight intoxication.

We speed up and walk towards the school, trying not to catch anyone's eye. We simply skipped all our classes over the past week.

Literally a hundred meters from the school is a cozy courtyard; much later in the evening, dangerous guys will gather in it. We plop down on a bench under a vine-covered arch, and Mike opens the liqueur again, this time fishing out the sticky plastic glasses from his backpack. Andy and Lily are not there yet, but we will definitely see each other soon. It chills me to the bone, and judging by the way the color of Mike’s temples changes from red to gray, he feels the same. In the end, we will soon have to once again experience the best and, at the same time, the most terrible night of our lives. Now he's going to take a sip and ask...

"Listen, what do you think you should do next?" His voice sounds from somewhere, as if from afar. "Do you want to leave here? Or leave everything as it is?"

"Well..." I no longer control what I say. These are our memories or the real past, and they cannot be changed. "I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get somewhere. But I’m not as smart as you or Lily."

He leans slightly towards me, smells of cheap alcohol, and his eyes sparkle with excitement.

"You didn’t understand. When I say "to leave it as it is", I mean to live like this forever. We can always go back to this spring, you know? All four of us. It's like saving a game's progress or leaving a bookmark in a book."

"Are you stupid?" I move my lips hopelessly, repeating what I said ten years ago, unable to change anything.

Mike hits my Achilles spot. This is a small, remote town without chances or prospects. He and Lily have a chance to break out somewhere and become someone, but I don’t. And this spring is the best thing that has ever happened to me. This is a free, cheerful spring full of good memories and laughter when we all became friends. Distance will kill our connection. I know this for sure, and I have almost accepted it. But for some reason, Mike doesn’t want to let it go.

Although he will be fine. And now there is no turning back.

“Have you heard about... well, like, that old stall at the station that makes wishes come true?” He asks embarrassedly, rightly expecting that I will laugh in his face.

Of course, this is the most famous urban legend. There is a stall at the bus station, closed at all times, but if you go there and ask for two tickets for the next bus and then turn away for a couple of minutes, tickets will be there. Just turn around and take two old yellow pieces of paper. And somewhere at the end of the station, an old, creepy bus will appear, with windows clouded with road dirt and something very bad inside. Something that makes wishes come true. Not for free, of course, but if you know how to negotiate...

“I was there,” Mike says more boldly, holding out something in his palm.

I look at two very old, almost brown, bus tickets. He looks at me seriously, trying to understand whether I believe it or not.

“You know, it’s... dark there,” he swallows his saliva and turns slightly pale. “And there’s something between the seats on that bus, something incomprehensible. I couldn't see anything, but I was walking on something soft as if that bus was a living creature. It’s disgusting there; you can’t imagine how disgusting it is. Something is crunching around, tossing, and turning... I wanted everything to remain as it was. And it understood. I promised something, but if that creature didn’t lie, then we would save these moments forever. You understand?.. We can always come back here. Wherever we are, no matter how old we become, do you believe?"

"Nope." I carefully examine the tickets. "Where are Andy and Lily?"

“Let’s go." Mike stands up, pulling me along with him. “They won’t find us here and will come to my place, as always.”

My head is a little dizzy, but I cope and follow him, knowing well that if Andy and Lilly don’t find us in the yard, they will definitely drop by Mike’s place. Part of me says it's for the best because I don't want to see them in the sunlight.

Mike has the most comfortable room in the world.

Through the veil of illusion, my gaze is sometimes caught by shabby walls breaking, a broken window, and something curled up in the far corner of the ceiling, but I try to ignore it. And then the small-flowered wallpaper returns to its place, mercilessly plastered with posters and haphazardly nailed shelves. In the corner of the room, there is a mattress and a mountain of unread notebooks and volumes. I am kindly envious and plop down in a completely ordinary chair, covered with a bright blanket to hide its boring office color.

Mike returns to the kitchen, hands me the liqueur, sits down on the floor opposite, and takes out the tickets again. I finally notice that there are only two of them.

"Why not four?" I don’t want to hear the answer to the question, but I also can’t help but ask it.

“You see,” he hesitates. "Not everyone will be able to return. For everyone who will be back, there must be one who won't. But everyone must pay."

“You robbed me of my last change,” I snorted.

“You don’t understand. I’ll pay for you!” His voice becomes very serious, and I involuntarily have to listen.

I am very glad that he decided to choose me. Not Lily, but me. But the real reason is different. Because if Andy or Lily had heard the whole truth, they would never have agreed. Because only I would support any of his actions, even this one.

“We just need to get on that bus again before midnight. All four of us. Only you and I will have tickets. Take it,” he hastily thrusts a piece of paper into my hands and makes me hide it securely in the pocket. "Just don't be afraid, okay? Whatever happens, you have a ticket, and everything will be fine. I promise."

I can’t change the past. No one can, but I want to scream that he’s lying. I don’t know how Mike feels, repeating this promise and knowing full well what a terrible lie it is. I don’t care. I hope he feels very bad. Yes, then I didn’t know about all the conditions, but I could at least think about what would happen to our friends for whom there were no tickets... I didn’t even try. I didn’t even ask what or who Mike promised to pay with.

The doorbell rings, and a shiver goes through me. They came. Our best friends. Our eternal friends. The only real people here except us are in this place. At least I want to believe that they are still humans.

I’m slightly gloating that Mike has to open and see them first, but they are already entering the room. Just as I remember them, they are forever young. Andy nods at me, and Lily touches my shoulder with a smile as she passes by. Her hand is warm.

And for the next few hours, the influence of the past will be so strong that I will forget and relive it. I will watch how Lily straightens her almost white-bleached hair and laughs loudly, leaning her hand on Andy’s knee. They look good together. They WOULD look. Thin, pale Lily, and stocky, dark-skinned Andy, always a little shy and not yet aware of his attractiveness. Maybe if they had more time... But Mike and I ruined everything. For all of us.

In the meantime, we will listen to music and be sarcastic about his taste, drink liqueur diluted with beer complain about everything, laugh, and understand each other perfectly. Family, school, teachers, pressure before admission, mutual acquaintances, the latest gossip... I don’t remember what we talked about; it’s already dark outside the window when a terrible melancholy pierces me. It’s time to go home, but...

Maybe if I had left, this wouldn't have happened.

The time allotted to us is running out. I notice with horror how my friends—everyone except Mike—are changing. This is a sign that it's time to move on. So far, these are small details, but I still see them. Andy's chin trembles slightly, and his teeth chatter against each other. And something in the corner of the apartment becomes more active, approaching us like a hunter, but too slowly. But it's not him I'm afraid of. Lily... It would be better if fangs or claws erupted, blood gushed from her nose, a roar burst from her throat, or anything, just not this look. Her look is not the look of that girl from the past that we are living again. This is the real Lily, who has been locked up here because of us for ten years. This is an adult, hard look on the verge of madness, which contrasts so terribly with her actions. Now she’s telling something about her future million-dollar blog, sharing plans for promotion, and something else... She’s talking passionately and hastily, but her eyes are burning with hatred. The only thing she can control.

Mike surreptitiously nods to me and stands up. Through the veil of the past, for a second, I see the real him with a crutch. Large drops of sweat appeared on his forehead, and his lower lip, bitten by tension, was slightly swollen. We both know that nothing good will happen anymore.

“Okay, it's time, guys. Let's have a walk,” he says carefree. “I’ll walk you a little bit to the station."

I don’t say anything. Just like I didn’t say anything ten years ago. I just silently watch everyone head to the door. In the movements of Andy and Lily, it is increasingly noticeable that they do not want to do this. They do not want to go anywhere, as if something is controlling them like puppets, forcing them to go out into the corridor. I leave last and silently look at their backs, doomed to repeat the same route as ten years ago.

Towards the end, when we are very close to the station, I mentally pray that we will just pass it. Knowing full well that this will not work and that everything has already happened a long time ago, there are no other options. The three ahead are enthusiastically arguing about something; I can hear laughter. Mike is egging them on to something.

"Come on, it’s always open there. Let’s go and have a look!" His eyes sparkle, and his smile is very unnatural. But for the first time, ten years ago, Andy and Lily simply didn’t see it. Do they now? Do they see it now?

Andy rolls his eyes as he always does when Make challenges him, but he always agrees. And now he grunts vaguely and follows Mike along the unlit path to the bus parking area.

Lili tilts her head with displeasure and is about to call out these idiots when I stop her.

"Let's go have a look."

"If someone catches us, do you know what my parents will do?" Lily laughs nervously, but I’m already pulling her along with me. I don't know why I did this. I still don't know. Yes, I envied her a little, because she was just like Mike. But I didn’t mean any harm to her.

It's hard not to recognize it. The bus. Lily stops and slows me down. I shiver coldly despite the warm night. This is the same bus. No one would keep such trash in the parking lot. The half-flat tires are smeared with something dark, like tar and strange shreds hang from them, like torn ropes. The windows are intact but covered with such a layer of dirt and dust that even in the light it would be impossible to see the interior, and there are some strange dents on the side. They just look like someone was fighting... from the inside.

“Hey,” I’m scared. My nerves are on edge. "Guys, are you there?"

"Let's come here!" Mike’s voice is heard from the salon.

I still look into the dark passage, where nothing is visible—not even steps—in some kind of unnaturally thick darkness. and Lily is already stepping inside and is forever cut off from the normal world. What would happen if I gave up all this? I would have simply turned around and left, not wanting to have anything to do with Mike’s suspicious idea.

But I climb the steps, hesitating slightly and screaming when a sweaty hand grabs my wrist and pulls me forward, preventing me from looking at the driver’s seat.

"Hush. You don’t need to look there!" Mike’s voice calms slightly, but I still don’t see anything. My eyes don’t want to get used to the darkness. I can’t even understand where the others are.

"Let's get out of here. Someone heard me." I don’t even believe in it myself. I feel for the phone in my pocket, but no matter how much I poke the side buttons, the screen does not want to come to life.

“No one will hear outside the bus,” Mike whispers, pulling me down. I barely find a seat, trying not to let go of his hand. "Now we will wait until it comes and does what I asked it to do."

“Mike, what the hell?" Andy begins displeasedly from somewhere far away. It seems he is at the opposite end of the salon. "Your stupid jokes..."

And then Lily’s scream is heard, as if from somewhere below as if she is several floors below. I hear Andy also suddenly screaming, but again, far away. The scream moves as if he is being rapidly dragged from corner to corner, but nothing is still visible.

Something pulls Mike's hand out of mine, and the seat flies into the darkness. I hit painfully, falling on my side. A cold, heavy hand rests on my shoulder. The second one is on my elbow. And another one grabs my ankle, but I'm already too scared to scream, so I can only wheeze. Something moves behind my back and gurgles as if a giant man is hastily drinking something through a straw. Something that makes you feel like you've just been skinned on a huge plate. Another hand tenaciously grabs my shoulder and pulls me toward the source of the sound but immediately sighs in disappointment.

“You have a ticket... Get out then,” the male voice tutted slightly in frustration. The creature in the dark evokes such fear that you involuntarily expect a roar and inhuman sounds. But the voice of THIS could have been the voice of a guy in the bank’s technical support. Somewhere far away, Lily is crying bitterly and sobbingly. She probably already understood, but I haven’t yet...

I felt hot asphalt under my palms, pebbles painfully digging into my skin. Slowly, I tried to get up without opening my eyes. Something warm was flowing from the corner of my mouth, either saliva or blood from the fall. I didn’t care. I was waiting for a sound that meant that we were in our time and the darkness of the past was over.

The sound of the crutch made me breathe out a sigh of relief and open my eyes. Mike rose, swaying absurdly and breathing heavily. I was in no hurry to help him. When we were thrown back into the human world ten years ago, he found himself in it without his right leg. Why? Mike didn’t tell me, but... I think he changed his mind and tried to give the ticket to someone else. I think it was Lily. Or he wanted to break the deal. Or angered the creature in the dark. And he was experiencing that pain again. Again, he felt like something in the darkness was simply gnawing off a part of him as punishment. Something bad—something dark in me—wanted to know how that happened. Did he feel the teeth of the creature, or maybe it just tore off a limb? I didn’t ask, of course.

Mike shook his head. We didn’t turn gray overnight, but for some reason, we began to grow old very quickly until we realized what we needed to do. To visit our friends.

We must take the same route again.

I looked sadly toward the river and walked slowly, knowing that the soft knocking would soon be heard again behind me. Our wish was granted. We saw our friends again. We relived our youth again. Sticking out of the door crack of the ill-fated stall was a huge cyanotic foot, three-toed and sometimes impatiently tapping the ground.

You have to pay for everything. And our current walk is also a payment. If we try to take the wrong turn, the creature behind the door may well help us correct our route. We never tried, but the feeling of it standing there at a low start was incredibly unnerving.

Mike finally caught up with me and reproachfully said, "Thank you for waiting."

“The sooner we get there, the sooner this will all be over. Be careful." I pulled him away from the edge of the bridge.

The river was completely dry. Only the mud glistened damply at the bottom, full of garbage. The smell from the riverbed was so strong that I covered my nose with my sleeve. And then I realized that the smell was not from the river. Those who played the role of people in the town were no longer going to pretend. And we had to carefully walk around the humanoid figures molded from various flesh and darkness. They grinned. Sometimes, with great effort, they raised their arms just a little, but they could not move. I tried not to imagine how joyfully we were rushing very close to them not long ago.

There was no shop in the cozy courtyard anymore. At the end of the steps to the basement, there was a gaping hole where we so easily entered the first time. There was a musty smell from there, and something wetly squelched as it approached. Near the hole, the stony face of a saleswoman appeared on a long neck. She stared blankly at us with her lidless eyes as we passed by. Somewhere inside, the one pretending to be a client howled sadly.

None of that could compare with what awaited us in Mike's "place" where we met Lily and Andy. We didn’t need to go into the apartment again; the one living on the ceiling was probably just waiting for that.

They were... close. In the next apartment. Stacked there as unnecessary, like two huge dolls, whose owners returned to them every few years. Mike pushed me lightly in the back when the door slowly opened, and I could hardly resist knocking the crutch away from him and pushing him into the apartment first. But I didn't.

A dusty, dark corridor was an opening to a kitchen overgrown with mold and rust, where someone tall and wrapped in rags was carefully moving an almost decayed rag over a large fragment of a plate above the sink. Maybe it's their jailer. Maybe something worse. He sensed us and nodded his head furiously, as if saying, "Come in, come in. They’ve been waiting for you..."

In the room, I forgot how angry I was with Mike, and I tightly squeezed his cold, slightly trembling hand. Lily and Andy were there. They sat in the middle of the room on chairs that looked like they were torn out of a bus, buckled up, and straight. They were dusty, their clothes seemed to have faded, and their skin was cracked like old paper, revealing something dark pink and wet underneath.

They were alive. I felt it. Moreover, they were conscious. Always. I thought that Andy was lucky and simply went crazy, even before our first visit. There was nothing in his eyes from the guy we knew. He was staring senselessly into emptiness, dry lips cracking into a smile. He still somehow understood that we had come. He began to sniff, grin, and twitch. But the seat belts held him tight. He twitched with his whole body, and the chair rocked. For a second, the back of his head became visible, and I instantly vomited into the corner of the room. We haven't seen this before.

On the back of his head, there were festering bite marks, many of them. Some were very old, and some were still wet. Well, of course, that creature didn’t just keep them for nothing. Lord, after so many years, every day felt like an eternity in this small, dusty room, with a monster that was slowly eating them alive and yet somehow managed to keep them breathing.

Lily was not crazy. She didn't move just looked at us. There was so much hatred in her eyes that I couldn’t stand this look, and neither could Mike.

"What have I done to you?" She seemed to be asking. "Why did you pay with me? We were friends."

Her dry, matted hair had not grown back; they both had not changed. They were still teenagers as if forever frozen at the same age... Only some strands were torn out as if a huge and cruel child was playing with her like a doll.

We needed to hug them. Say goodbye as if we were an ordinary friend. We should promise to come back again. That bus thing had a very, very wicked sense of humor. We needed to act like everything was fine. As if none of us felt a monstrous sense of guilt for forever depriving our friends of a future.

They were forever imprisoned in a dusty, dark room, under the supervision of something inhuman and hungry. Time had long stopped for them and would never start again.

Andy didn’t react when I forced myself to step closer and lean over. He had already lost interest and was looking somewhere through me. We took his life and sanity without having any right to do so. Hell, even Mike's wish didn't come true in the right way.

I lightly touched his hair, stroked it without touching the skin, and hugged his shoulders. He was breathing. He even smelled like a human.

I couldn’t do that to Lily. She was conscious, so I hypocritically closed my eyes and hugged her quickly and tightly. A strange sound came from near my face. I tried not to think about it and quickly pulled away before Mike noticed anything.

The creature from the kitchen stood, swaying mockingly, in the doorway as if touching by our farewell. Now we had to leave the house, where two old buses were waiting for us.

We will be the only passengers, and the driver's seat will be tightly curtained. It’s stuffy, quiet, and slightly scary inside, but after traveling into the past, there are simply no resources to be afraid of, and each of us will fall asleep. And we will wake up at home, in our city, at a normal station filled with people.

But this time something happened that I so wanted to discover at the beginning. A change. Something new, something that had not happened before. The fact was that Lily’s teeth ground when I hugged her. And that could only mean one thing: she found a way to regain control of her body instead of just watching helplessly.

I didn’t tell Mike about that. Why? .. I have no idea how quickly she will free herself or how far she can go. Who knows how much strength she will have? Maybe one day I will wake up in bed and see next to me a thin, ageless figure, covered in dust, with teeth wounds on its body and eyes blazing with righteous anger. Maybe she will want to take revenge when we next have to return. I will bend down to hug her, and Lily will grab my neck with her dry teeth. Maybe this will all happen to Mike first. Whatever it is, I'm not going to warn him or find a way out myself. At the end of the day, all four of us are still friends.