The next morning Nef woke up in the dreariness of his room. He sat on the unmade bed wearing just a couple of dark boxer shorts, and immediately felt the need to light a cigarette and wrap his head around what had happened the night before.

At the second puff, a voice broke the silence.

"That was some mess, yesterday."

The man threw the smoke out of his lungs. "I didn't ask for the early morning gazette, you jerk, how did you get in here?"

"As major financer, I received special benefits, including the master key to all the rooms in the studio."

Jag emerged from the shadow, blending in perfectly with the demonic creatures that decorated the room, Nef looked at him sharply: "You really came out of a nightmare. What in the world do you want from me?"

The child resumed his usual cheerful attitude "I just want to be in the band! The virgin was just a ploy to get here. You can't deny that you're the one who asked for her!"

"Right! And I lived to regret both of those things! Sending that message over to the internet and signing that stupid contract with you!" He concluded by stabbing the cigarette on the edge of the bedside table because the ashtray was spilling over.

"How is she?" He asked, sure that the boy knew the answer.

"She'll be alright, I watched her for a long time, she's strong and she won't say anything about it."

"How do you know? If she speaks I'm screwed, damn it!" He rose, gesturing wildly.

"She has no documents and she's alone. Do you think she would go to the police or talk to someone? I planned all the possibilities and I didn't choose her randomly. And fate decided for her name to be Fade, as you required in your ad," he concluded, showing a pleased grin.

"Fuck..." the man said to himself looking for his clothes in the confusion of the room. "Now I have to go, they're waiting for me at rehearsal!"

Fade didn't show up in the studios for a few days. She was mostly locked up in her room trying to thwart her thoughts; she had tried to write other things on her 'stupid diary', but only incoherent and incomprehensible thoughts had come out. The only one she liked was Everything bad happens to me, I deserve it.

Every now and then she waited, holding her breath, when she heard suspicious noises coming from the hallway, but they were never Nef's footsteps. The girl wondered what she would do or say once she faced him again. She felt that she should punch him in the mouth, but at the same time a new thought was forming in her mind. Desire. She hated him for what he had done, but she also knew that he had probably been the one who called the police. She didn't understand. She kept on telling herself that it didn't make sense trying to kill her and then asking her to forget everything with a kiss. That kiss travelled under her skin like a mild electric shock, and at the same time disgusted her and made her want to try it again. And that condom that he had thrown her; she found it rough and insolent but exciting at the same time. She had never allowed anyone to get close to her and couldn't stand the idea that someone had broken her defences so violently. She didn't want to see him again, but at the same time she felt that perhaps she would let him in and possibly she would have liked his hands to touch her, to slide over her skin, through her hair; she gave herself a mental shake, angry for her thoughts. It was a nagging thought that she couldn't get rid of, except through the mute words written on the black pages.

The next morning the girl decided to talk to Jag.

Even though he was just a weird kid, he was the only person she could talk to. She knocked at the door of the room the boy had chosen on the first floor, on the wing opposite to the rooms of the band. The fact of sleeping on their same floor filled him with exaggerated euphoria.

Jag opened the door in pyjamas, still sleepy.

"Are you still sleeping?" Fade asked, "It's already eleven o'clock!"

The child replied mumbling that the creatures of the night slept by day, then he asked her why she was there.

She was unprepared for that question, indeed she didn't even know why she was there, since she didn't think it was the case to tell the kid about the latest events. She just sat down on a chair beside the desk and mumbled "I was just passing by here. Do you have any news?"

As if they had injected caffeine directly into his veins, the boy woke up from his lethargy and began to list all of his experiences as a backstage spectator of the group. He told her how the rehearsals were conducted, about how funny it was that Ted constantly sought Nef's approval, about Joanna's harmonious voice, and how she got distracted every five minutes to control the arrival of new texts, about the constant controversy between Jess and herself on the arrangements of the songs, and consequently, poor Ted had to pay the price for it; but he never spoke of Nef, noticing the girl's nervous reaction.

When the report was over, silence fell among them. Then he went on, annoying her "Don't you want to hear about Nef?"

She realized he was being ironic and annoyed, she replied "What am I supposed to know? He probably spent his time drinking, smoking and meeting his 'fans'!"

"It almost seems like you're jealous!" He insisted.

"You're way off track" she cut short "...and anyway I don't care to know. No."

"As a matter of fact Nef has seemed to be very upset for the last past days," Jag went on, as if he hadn't heard or didn't care for her answer. "He's nervous and irritable; he always was, but now he seems worried about something big! Does it have anything to do with you?" The kid asked with a mischievous tone.

She jumped as she remembered certain details of when she met Jag, of how he was always in the places she was, or how he had designed her in such a realistic way. She approached him furiously and asked firmly, "What do you know?"

"The whole studio knows that he has the hots for you!" He grinned holding back an excited chuckle. Fade's emotions suddenly fled to her brain, making her sit back in her chair. After a moment of stunned silence, she said "That's what the whole studio knows?"

"Yeah, it seems like you're the only one who ignores it!" He continued grinning.

The girl was heartened by the fact that he hadn't discovered what happened a few days earlier, even though she didn't like being at the centre of an embarrassing gossip involving a person of such dubious morality.

"I understand, thank you for the warning, now I have one more good reason to stay away from him! Do you want to get a bite at Ibrahim's?" She concluded, getting up.

That same night, strangely, Nef's footsteps came back to the corridor.

They went back and forth a couple of times to make sure she heard them, and then everything fell silent.

Fade was in her room trying to think of the best way to approach the subject. She had studied a thousand possible prologues, but she knew that once she was before him she would probably speak inconsiderately. She collected her courage and silently opened the lock to avoid being heard and in order to retreat to her room if she changed her mind on her way to the private room.

She reached the door and spied inside the semi-open door. She saw an entirely unexpected image of Nef sitting on the couch, his arms stretched over the back, his legs crossed on which he held a book he was reading. He played with a tooth pick, turning it in his mouth, probably helping him concentrate. Suddenly, due to its unstable balance, the book fell to the floor on the carpet, with a muffled noise. Fade jumped and he discovered her.

"Hello Ragamuffin," he said, not at all surprised. The way he spoke to her was almost paternal, far from what the kid had told her. She didn't answer. To break the silence, Nef said "I'm going to have a drink. I already know that you don't want one, so I won't ask you if you do. And don't worry, I won't repeat the joke I played on you the last time," he said, putting the book down and getting up to go to the counter. "If you feel like it, we could talk a little..."

After a moment's hesitation, the girl slipped inside and sat on the couch far from where he had been sitting.

As he poured his drink, she glanced at the book but couldn't decipher the title because of the light was too dim.

Returning to his seat, the man put the glass down and rested his elbows on his knees, passing his hands through his hair and taking a long breath. After that ritual he resumed speaking. "So how are you?"

Funny, that was a prelude she hadn't quite thought of.

"I'm fine..." she said mechanically. 'Fine' was what she had learnt to always answer.

"I, on the other hand, am sick," the man interrupted a flow of thoughts to which she, perhaps, would not have been able to give margins, "What I did was unforgivable. Ever since that mess happened I've kept on repeating to myself what a piece of shit I have been. You were completely right when you said those things..."

She couldn't understand what the musician was referring to: she didn't remember much of what had happened that night.

"From that day on I've abandoned any reference to Satanism and I began to document its history" he said, pointing to the book in front of him. "Just to understand the mechanisms behind those fanatics..."

Fade got closer and picked up the large volume. It had, engraved in its cover, the title in broad letters: "Black Magic - Dossier".

She browsed a few pages without worrying to save his page: among a multitude of words, there were drawings of diagrams and depictions of incisions that she couldn't understand, so she simply laid the book in its place and motionlessly stared at the carpet.

Nef realized that her attempt to approach him wouldn't go further and that it was up to him to do the rest. Carefully he put his hand on the girl's head to touch her thin red hair. She turned to look at him as he searched her eyes for her permission. Feeling small, she curled up on his chest to hide her face, while his arm hugged her tighter, giving her an unexpected comfort.

Fade watched the charms that showed through his black partially opened shirt and saw that the overturned gold cross was missing, confirming what he said before. She didn't know what to do at that moment. The warmth of his hand on her face comforted her; the assumptions she had made in the loneliness of her room suddenly reappeared, amplified to the umpteenth degree. She couldn't believe that her heart could bear all those sensations as he slid his hands under her shirt to stroke her back. She allowed him to undress her, while keeping her eyes closed so as not to let her fear overflow. The man found himself stroking an extremely thin body with milky white skin. Even while he unfastened her little bra, he couldn't help but notice how her breasts were different from all the other ones he had sunk his face in until then; this convinced him that all those tits of the past were fake, without any exception.

He stopped drifting and concentrated on the girl; her skin was extremely smooth to the touch, not like his fans' tanned and cracked skin and her hair tickled his hands pleasantly. Feeling a stir of excitement he hugged her close and kissed her; curled up like a scared chick all she could do was follow his expert movements while he laid her on the couch and finished undressing her.
Failing to keep his celebrity cynical spirit from emerging, while he unbuckled his belt, he thought, "Let's hope she's not a minor..."

[...]

The next morning Fade woke up with a fierce headache.

She woke up in her bed wearing only the shirt of the previous evening, while an annoying pain flared in her lower abdomen. She felt like she was living in a dream that abruptly turned into a nightmare the moment she remembered what had happened the night before.

She looked around in search of her clothes, soon she realized that they had been left in the private room.

She entered the door that had been left ajar, the couch was pillow less, and her clothes were folded and placed on the coffee table. Without asking questions, she grabbed them and returned to her room, then decided to take a tour of the studios to see what was going on. When the elevator doors opened on the bottom floor, she met the manager of the group who greeted her rising an inquisitive eyebrow. The same for Sushi who crossed her and for a moment glanced away from her cell phone to stare at her and then resumed walking. The icing on the cake was the meeting with Ted and Jess who were whispering and laughing among themselves.

"Hey Fade!" Jag yelled, surprising her, "You really scored last night!"

She almost flipped; she turned and told the boy off, putting her hand over his mouth. "What the hell... what are you saying? And do you think this is the way to talk!?"

Jag freed himself from her grasp, "Come on, the whole studio knows it!" He insisted.

The girl felt the blood go to her head for the anger and shame she felt. He explained with an appreciative grin "Nef told us everything at breakfast."

Not wanting to know anything else, she walked away before the brat could add any more details. She took the elevator to the first floor and headed to the bass player's room kicking on the door with her skates to get him to it open. A grinning Nef opened the door and, before the girl could speak, he said "Hey Ragamuffin! I guess it's true that you were virgin! You can't imagine the mess you left on the couch..." she grabbed him from the necklace, tightening it dangerously. "What the fuck! You told everyone everything!" She screamed.

"Hey, let go," he replied with a choked voice. "Don't get angry baby, it's a tradition of the studios to brag when you get lucky!" He minimized.

"You're an asshole!" She concluded, letting go of him and leaving.

Meanwhile everyone downstairs had been warned by Jag to avoid gossiping, seeing the fury with which the girl had reacted to the news. She, for her part, slipped away from their prying eyes. She realized that not even Jag was on her side, too obsessed with the band's success. It was understandable, but ultimately, she didn't seek anyone's support, she had always lived counting on herself and she could continue to do so.

So, that night, once again she began to go out secretly to to wander the streets of the city. She also started stealing again, even though she didn't need to, but she no longer wanted to depend on the 'servitude' of the studio. She had begun to refuse the trays of food placed in front of her door, until the servants, aware of that, stopped bringing them to her. In the corner of her room she had used the desk as a dining table and kitchen and she found all the things that she needed to eat, in the bare minimum. She got her drinking water from the bathroom, using empty bottles, just as she did when she lived in her old shelter. Over time, she also managed to build the reputation and the halo of fear with which she was labeled in her old neighbourhood, mostly by confronting others in small fights and threatening with a knife anyone who approached her. After the series of events that had overwhelmed her, something had changed in her personality, she felt the needed to take things to the extreme and she sought the thrill she felt from constantly risking her life.

She had also started to style her hair in long bangs, which she had stopped doing since the night of the ceremony; once again she became a sort of decadent icon of the ill-famous neighbourhoods. Every time she got back home, she used to write her flowing thoughts on her diary, accompanied by the sliding of the rollerblades. Ever since she started writing, her headaches were less frequent, the nervousness that made her teeth grind in her sleep had improved, but she didn't feel better, not at all.

INTOLERANCE
When you feel that sensation
When you feel you don't want to stay
If you change your life
You can't know if you'll appreciate it
It's not the time to love it
It is not the time to deny it
Just
Keep your heart open and write
Write everything that goes through your head
There are no thoughts in your mind
Just a stupid word sequence
It's the brain that moves the hand
Tick tock tick tock tick tock
Until your head explodes.