I stood outside of Room 734 pacing back and forth as I tried to decide whether or not to knock. As much as I wanted to know the woman, I had an overwhelming sense of dread creeping up and my hand slid into my pocket as I ran my fingers across the straight razor. As I turned to leave, Pisha opened the door and pulled me inside. She was wearing the same outfit as before. She led me to the bed and sat me on the edge.

“Can I see it?” she asked. “The cut on your leg?”

A surge of anxiety welled up from somewhere inside and I started to panic. I was about to bolt for the door when she sat next to me and put a hand on me leg.

“Let me show you something,” she whispered while leaning over. She stood up and turned away from me.

“Would you mind unzipping my dress?” she asked. I pulled the zipper down and caught sight of ridges of scar tissue on her back. She dropped the dress to her ankles and revealed in a slow twirl that most of her torso and upper legs covered in scar tissue.

She sat across from me on the dresser.

“When I was a little girl my father caught me kissing a neighbor boy. It wasn’t anything major, just a peck on the lips. The old man lost it. He dragged me into the living room and bent me over his knee screaming about how no daughter of his was going to behave like a harlot. He was spanking so hard that I stopped feeling it after the second or third swat. I struggled to get away and I ended up tripping on the rug and falling in the fireplace. By the time he pulled me out, I had burns on 60 percent of my body.”

She lit a cigarette and took a long drag.

“That’s terrible. I don’t even…” I stuttered.

“Some would call it disfiguring,” she said, interrupting me, “but your expression hasn’t changed since you entered the room. I can tell that it is meaningless to you. I can smell the blood on your leg. Judging by your anxiety and shame, I’d say you were a cutter. I did that for a while.” She spread her legs and pointed to her inner thigh where I could make out numerous linear scars in about the same location as mine.

I unbuckled my belt and let wriggled my pants to the floor to expose the incision on my thigh. I scooted back on the bed and lit my own cigarette. We sat in silence staring at each other as the embers on the ends of our cigarettes approached the filters. She finished her cigarette and came over to the bed and snuggled up next to me. We lay in silence holding each other in that moment of perfect desperation for an unknown amount of time before I drifted off to sleep.

My dreams were fitful and violent. Flashes of red shapes that bore sharp teeth tore at me as I fought to wake and found myself violently throwing myself on the floor. Pisha mumbled in her sleep as I climbed back on the bed. I moved over the table in the corner and sat in the dark smoking another cigarette. I contemplated sneaking out, but found my legs unwilling to comply with the instinct to flee. She rolled over and slid her arm across the empty space in the bed, where I had been moments ago, only to sit up and look around.

“Are you still here?” she asked.

“I had a nightmare,” I said. “I’m by the table.”

She came over and sat in my lap. She pulled a cigarette from my pack and lit it using the cherry from my still-lit cigarette. Pisha leaned her head on my shoulder

“I feel so safe with you,” she said.

I started to pet her hair and she started talking. I zoned out for a bit, but when I started paying attention, she was mid-sentence talking about the organization.

“-ing and what not. I don’t know anymore. At first, I joined because I wanted to be part of something bigger than myself. Fraternization between apprentices and neonates is strictly forbidden. If you join, we wouldn’t be able to do this again for the better part of a year and that is only if you make apprentice. It would almost be worth it to fail the review and say you didn’t pan out. I like this. I’ve never had this before.”

I put my cigarette out in the ashtray.

“I’ve lived 33 years without you. I can wait a year. It would be worth it just to be a part of your life,” I said.

She leaned up and kissed me on the cheek before walking over to her suitcase to get dressed. She tossed me my pants and shoes.

Our clothes back on, I kissed her on the forehead before heading to the door.

“Thank you for the best night of my life,” I said.

She smiled from ear to ear.

“I hope to change that one day.”