- "God, what's on my head?" I stand in front of the mirror, trying in vain to remove the strands knocking out of my tail. If we were holding a competition for the "most curved hands on the planet," I would definitely be in the top ten winners, and maybe even take the first prizes. What prize is for this, you ask? As usual, losers are not entitled to any prizes, I will answer you.

- "Let it all go!" - at ultra-high speed, with all the hatred that overflows me, the comb from my hands flies towards the wall and hits it, splits into two parts. I pull the elastic band and release a huge heap of red, naughty hair - "Freedom"...

"Fake love" is playing in the background. Shaking my hips to the beat of music, with every note, my body becomes more liberated. Having finally let myself go, I start my "dance therapy." It really looks like frenzied dances in a crazy house, where bantans are divinely beautiful psychotherapists, their music healing soul and body is a miraculous medicine, and I, who got into trouble, is a local madman from the 26th Chamber. At least that's the case, it looks from the outside. An inadequat girl, of a strange appearance, dances a dance awkwardly, more like some movements for pagan rituals or for the rite of expulsion of spirits. If the bow could be called, I would no doubt succeed. They would certainly do everything to stop this madness: delete all their songs from my playlist and urgently restrict access to them. Hmm, fools... I always know where to get them.

- "Mda... now everything has become even sadder on my head than it was..." I look in the mirror and struggle to accept its reflection. "My mother wouldn't even throw away garbage like that... it's good that I'm not my mother..." Everything starts to double and mutate in my eyes: my reflection, interior items, all the furniture behind me - "What's going on here at all..." - with effort, I close my eyes and open again, trying to remove the veil that rolled on me. It's bad. A nauseating lump approaches the throat. I instinctively grab my neck. Around, things are starting to blur, becoming difficult to see. Rescue from an imminent fall is a closet. It's only a metre away from me. - "Come on, you can..." An attempt to embrace... My back, according to all the laws of physics and the remaining reasonableness, was supposed to meet an old, kind, wooden door, but I'm falling through it.

Seconds. The feeling that you travelled around the roller coaster in just one second. Or a skating rink has passed through you. Who doesn't happen to, but it happens to me for sure... With chilling horror, I open my eyes through my palms. There's a lot of cold gray marble and empty space around me. The rustle of friction of my clothes, so loud that it echos from walls or like that ... I can't see... Around, only this suggestive nightmare is marble, almost pitch darkness, with dull, breaking light from a narrow corridor ahead of me, and "nothing." I get back on my feet and look at it: "Maybe I'm dead..." I walk my palms through my body: it seems that skin receptors, sending signals to my painful brain, "speak" the opposite... "Maybe I'm really crazy..." - I don't recognise anymore, crazy people lose the concept of criticality.

Ahead is a narrow corridor expanding towards the end. I'm slowly walking through its space, getting deeper into it. Step. Another one. The reality slips away and shifts again. But this time, thank Gods, I don't feel anything.

Room. It's a room Around me is some very strange room. She's definitely a few degrees warmer, that cold marble hall made of "nothing." It's not bad to start with. Light emits over my head, just behind me, clearly of artificial nature, but I don't see its source. And ahead of me... is the sun shining? His bright rays fall on a man spread out in a loose-relaxed pose and illuminate his velvety, olive face. He lies drowning in velvety, olive face. He lies drowning in the depths of the most delicate pillows and blankets, on a luxurious sky-coloured sofa and looks extremely tired. There is a lot of greenery around it, light wind noise and beautiful chirping of exotic birds. These sounds are not like those I've heard before. They are more full, multifaceted and seem louder than usual. The young man lazyly opens his eyes and, without bothering to break away from the soft feathers, turns his head a little in my direction. - "Yungi...!"

The sequel should be continued... Subscribe so you don't miss it!