“I did it on purpose.”

“Did you learn?"The face in the corner watched the flames. "I did." There was a considerable pause. "Until I was nine. At that age, my mother sold the music studio and stopped teaching. SHe kept only the one instrument but gave up on me not long after I resisted the learning. I was foolish.""No," Papa said. "You were a boy.”

“I don't want to hope for anything anymore. I don't want to pray that Max is alive and safe. Or Alex Steiner.Because the world did not deserve them.”

“The words. Why did they have to exist? Without them, there wouldn't be any of this.”

“She took a step and didn't want to take any more, but she did.”

“Have me," they said, and there was no stopping them. They were frightened, no question, but they were not afraid of me. It was a fear of messing up and having to face themselves again, and facing the world, and the likes of you. There was nothing I could do.They had too many ways, they were too resourceful - and when they did it too well, whatever their chosen method, I was in no position to refuse.”

“I..." He struggled to answer. "When everything was quiet, I went up to the corridor and the curtain in the livingroom was open just a crack... I could see outside. I watched, only for a few seconds." He had not seen the outside world for twenty-two months.There was no anger or reproach.It was Papa who spoke.How did it look?"Max lifted his head, with great sorrow and great astonishment. "There were stars," he said. "They burned by eyes.”