We arrive at my sister's house, and I quickly go up to Daniela's room. I need to be alone, to figure out what the hell is happening; but my sister, overprotecting me, doesn't give me a single moment of solitude, so I tell her I want to take a shower.

And maybe I do.

Maybe that really is my desire, because I can feel the nauseating breath of my body on the face I now inhabit. I feel the crystalline, vacant gaze on me since my body turned against me at the hospital. I feel the weight of a body that doesn't belong to me, and the distress of having lost my own physical vessel.

My sister agrees.

I step into the bathroom and start undressing in front of the mirror. The moment I see my little niece's naked reflection staring back at me, I turn away, ashamed, refusing to violate a privacy that under any other circumstance I would never dare to breach.

I step into the shower, cranking the hot water to its limit, letting the nearly unbearable steam engulf me, washing away my anxious thoughts. I recall, almost fondly, my hungover mornings when only a steady stream of scorching water on my forehead could ease my headaches.

"What a fucking joke," I think, a resigned chuckle escaping me at the absurdity of imagining myself drunk at a bar—trapped in this little girl's body.

"God, help me," I whisper.

But no one answers.

No one helps me.

And I can't even surrender.

I realize I'm alone.

This madness is so absolute that even if I fell into the deepest depression, I couldn't kill myself—because that would be some kind of murder. I would be killing my own niece.

I finish showering and, despite the discomfort of maneuvering a small, developing female body—and even though I can't and won't ever get used to this—I perform each action mechanically, as if adapting to my new life, my new body, my new self.

"No!" I snap at myself, rejecting the insanity.

I can't get used to any of this.

This little body belongs to Dani.

This shower belongs to Dani.

This towel belongs to Dani.

I can't get used to this.

Instead, I should be asking myself: What the hell am I doing to get my Dani back? What am I doing to get my body back? And, most importantly: Who the fuck is in it? Because it sure as hell isn't Dani. It didn't seem like her, even though she was only conscious for a few moments. And now that I think about it, I remember the immediate confusion when I came to—well, when I came to as Dani after the accident. The inability to move at will, as if this body were a suit with the wrong measurements, completely unfamiliar. The inability to communicate, to listen, to make myself understood.

Fuck...

It could actually be Daniela, unable to move or communicate properly yet. If it took me days to adjust to Dani's body, then after all this time, it must be even harder for her. And she's just a child—in an adult's body. Poor Dani, she must be petrified with fear and confusion, terrified of the shadows around her.

But... the boy wasn't there.

What if that fucking kid took over my body?

It's insane, but I'm in my niece's body—why couldn't the same thing happen with mine?

As I dwell on this, I notice something on the acrylic shower door—a heart with a "D" inside it. It's not like the others. This one looks freshly made.

Could it be that Daniela, wherever she is, is making these for me? For herself?

Is she trying to tell me something?

"Dani, hurry up!"

Shit. That scared the hell out of me.

It's my sister, yelling from outside the bathroom.

"I'M COMING!" I yell back, annoyed.