Joel shifts against the beam, his head rolling back as he fights to open his eyes. Blood streaks his face, dried now, its dark trail tracing his jaw. I sit across from him, my back pressed against the cold concrete wall. The air in the basement feels heavier, stifling, but I can't bring myself to move. Joel's voice is hoarse when he speaks, barely audible. "Adam…" I don't answer. My gaze is fixed on the stairs, where the rabbit had disappeared moments ago. The memory of its crystal eyes—Lily's eyes—lingers in my mind, vibrant and impossible. My chest tightens with an ache that words can't touch. "Adam," Joel says again, louder this time, his voice straining with effort. "Look at me." I glance at him, my jaw tightening. His eyes are clearer now, focused, though the lines of pain etched into his face remain. He shifts against the ropes binding him, wincing. "You're not yourself," he says, his tone cautious but steady. "But I know you're still in there. I know the real Adam is still in there." I flinch at his words, looking away. "You don't know anything," I mutter. My voice feels small, hollow. "I know you," Joel counters. "I've known you your whole life. And I know how much you loved Lily." Her name cuts through the fog in my mind, sharp and bittersweet. I swallow hard, refusing to meet his gaze. Joel shifts again, testing the ropes but stopping when they pull tight. "Do you remember the first time I met her?" he asks suddenly, his tone softer now. "Do you remember that night?" I blink, startled by the question. My brow furrows as I search my mind for the memory, but it's like grasping at smoke. There's nothing there but fragments, pieces that don't fit together. "No," I admit quietly. "I… I don't." Joel's eyes soften, and for a moment, the tension between us eases. "Let me tell you," he says. "Let me remind you." I hesitate, but the longing in his voice—desperate, almost pleading—matches the ache in my own chest. I nod, just barely. Joel leans his head back against the beam, his gaze unfocused as he recalls the memory. "It was a Friday night," he begins, his voice steadying. "The roller rink in town. You dragged me there." I close my eyes, the image of the roller rink forming faintly in the dark corners of my mind. The smell of popcorn and cheap cologne lingers just out of reach. Joel continues. "You were terrible on skates. Could barely stand without grabbing onto the railing. But you insisted you didn't need help." I huff a quiet laugh despite myself, and Joel's lips twitch into a faint smile. "And then there was Lily," he says, his tone softening. "She glided across the floor like she was born with wheels on her feet. Effortless. Beautiful. Everyone was watching her, but she only had eyes for you." My breath catches, my chest tightens. The faint smell of buttered popcorn grows stronger, mingling with the sweet, synthetic scent of the rink's rental skates. I can almost hear the faint echo of pop music blaring over the speakers. Joel's voice pulls me deeper into the memory. "You fell. Hard. Right in the middle of the rink. I thought for sure you'd give up. But Lily… she didn't laugh. She didn't even hesitate. She skated over, crouched down, and took your hands. Pulled you back up like it was the most natural thing in the world." I close my eyes tighter, the image sharpening in my mind. Her hands, warm and steady, wrapping around mine. Her laughter, soft and musical, filling the air as she encouraged me to try again. "She stayed with you the whole night," Joel says. "Every time you fell, she was there. And you—stubborn as always—kept getting back up, just to impress her." A faint smile tugs at the corner of my lips, unbidden and bittersweet. "I remember…" I whisper, my voice trembling. "She called me a lost cause. Said I had two left feet." Joel chuckles, a low, tired sound. "Yeah. But she still kept helping you. Kept holding your hands. You two were inseparable. I stood there watching from the sidelines, and I just… I knew." I open my eyes, blinking against the tears that blur my vision. "Knew what?" "That she was meant for you," Joel says simply. "That no one else could make you smile like that. Or make you look so… alive." The basement feels warmer now, the air less oppressive. I can almost see the roller rink, feel the rough texture of the skates digging into my feet. The faint hum of the fluorescent lights buzzes at the edge of my mind, and the scent of Lily's perfume—light and floral—wafts through the memory. "I can smell it," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I can smell the popcorn… the roller skates… her perfume." Joel watches me carefully, his expression softening. "She loved you, Adam," he says quietly. "Don't let whatever's happening to you take that away." I clutch my knees to my chest, tears streaming freely down my face. "I miss her," I choke out, my voice raw. "I miss her so much." "I know," Joel whispers. "I miss her too." The memory lingers for a moment longer, vivid and bittersweet, before reality crashes back in. The basement is cold again, the shadows deeper. Joel shifts against the beam, his movements tentative but steady. "Adam," he says cautiously. "Do you see it now? What she meant to you? What she'd want for you?" The whispers stir faintly, their voices distant but insistent. I shake my head, pressing my palms to my temples. "I don't know," I whisper, torn between the warmth of the memory and the cold pull of the voices. Joel leans forward as much as his bonds allow, his gaze piercing. "Then let me help you remember more. Let me help you find her the right way." I look at him through tear-filled eyes, my hands trembling. The whispers twist and churn, but for the first time, their hold feels weaker, fragile. The memory of Lily's laughter lingers, soft and fragile like a thread of light cutting through the dark.