“Sit down,” says Claus again, putting his finger on the trigger. “And don’t insult me.”

Kate’s eyes shoot fire. For a moment I’m afraid she’ll attack him, but then she sinks back into her seat.

“Okay, the next dome, then.” Claus looks at his watch. “We’ll have to hurry a bit or we’ll miss twelve o’clock.”

He’s really enjoying this.

I see that Kate is doing everything in her power not to explode at him.

Fender picks up the silver dome and takes the envelope from underneath. Every movement seems to be an effort, as if he’s hurting all over.

I touch the rope on the left with my right hand. Now I can feel that there’s a double knot in it. How am I ever going to untie it?

Pain.

That’s what I remember from the ambulance ride.

Excruciating pain.

I wanted to die.

But in the hospital they fought for me.

For my face.

I slept through it all.

The rope begins to loosen. I can move my left hand just a little bit more—and then more.

If Claus looks this way now, the game is up.

But he only has eyes for Fender, who collapses more with each word.

The dressings are finally off.

Today they let me look in the mirror.

They say it’s me.

But all I saw was a monster.

My hand is so painful, but I keep frantically trying to pull the rope free. I have to get out of here alive.

Mom and Dad say it’s not that bad.

Even Marius is going along with it.

He says I’ll always be his beautiful little sister.

But as he was saying it, he couldn’t even look at me.

“Why did you stop?”

I’m startled by Claus’s voice. Fender has lowered the diary pages and tears are streaming down his cheeks.

I’ve never seen him cry before.

“Keep reading.”

“No.” Fender shakes his head.

“You will keep on reading. Now!”

“No.”

“All right.” Claus pulls the pages from his hand. “Then I’ll read it.”

Fender came by today.

I heard a nurse in the corridor tell him he had to understand that I’d changed.

“Changed.” That truly is what she said.

Like I’d dyed my hair.

Or was wearing different clothes.

She didn’t mention my eye.

Or the volcanic eruption that was my face.

I wanted to shout that Fender should stay out there in the corridor, but he was already coming into the room.

I dived under the covers.

“It’s me,” he said.

“I know.”

“Will you come here? I want to hold you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Of course I do. It’s us.”

I wanted to believe him so badly that I came out from under the covers.

I heard him gasp.

It was just a very small intake of breath.

Minuscule.

But big enough.

Fender