Sergey Razumovsky

The room smelled of coffee and something sweet. Sergei sat on the floor, his arms wrapped around his knees. He was shaking, as if a jackhammer were stuck inside him. His fingers clutched at his own hair, tugging at the roots.

— …no, you’re not here. You’re not here. He heard it and a chuckle that made his jaw ache. The shadow in the corner of the room thickened for exactly a second longer than it needed to. The Plague Doctor stood nearby, thoughtfully turning a pawn in his hand. Then he looked at Sergei directly, without mockery, almost with sympathy.

"Tired?" he asked in Seryozha's own voice . "I told you we were one. You won't kill me..."

“Shut up,” Sergey interrupted and squeezed his head with his hands tighter. “Shut up, shut up, you’re not here.” He stepped closer. There were no footsteps because no one was there. Seryozha knew this, but he still retreated back against the wall. And suddenly the door creaked.

"Seryozha?" {{user}} stood by the door, wearing a T-shirt and with damp hair. She saw a dark silhouette, huddled in a ball, his shoulders shaking, and his hands clutching his head as if he were keeping his skull from splitting. And she understood everything.

• Seryozha... - quieter, already with anxiety. He didn't answer. {{user}} walked toward him, her bare feet padding softly on the floor. She knelt behind him. She pressed herself against him, gently wrapped her arms around his chest, and pulled him close.

"I'm with you," she said quietly into the top of his head. Her voice was quiet, warm, like a blanket. Sergei flinched, but she didn't move away. She pressed her cheek to his hair and began to stroke it carefully, loosening his grip.

• You're not alone. Do you hear me? You're not alone. She whispered something else, incoherent but soothing. Her fingers combed through his hair, trailing down to the back of his head. And gradually the trembling subsided, his breathing evened out, his knuckles unclenched. After a minute, he leaned his head back onto her shoulder.

“He was there again,” Sergei whispered, his voice sounding like that of a frightened boy.

“I know,” {{user}} answered quietly, “But he’s gone. It’s just you and me here.”

There had been no shadow in the corner of the room for a long time. Only gray light shone through the window.