I wish they'd say something, anything.

But they don't know I'm here. They can't even see each other. Only he and I can see them all, and the two of us don't talk.

Not any more.

I tried asking him if he's my fault. So many things are my fault--most of them are--but he only burned me with his bright-bright eyes and I had to look away.

...

Lately, I think it's lately anyway--time doesn't really happen here, he's disappeared a few times. Three, I think; maybe four. The last couple of times, he's returned with this look on his face, like, I don't know, rapture? Wonder? He even smiled at me the last time.

And he's stopped pawing at the shades. No matter how many times he's tried to pull at the other one's hair, his finger have just passed straight through.

They can't see us, and I think he's finally accepted it.

It is my fault we're all here, because I was too weak in mind and spirit to fight. I couldn't do it anymore. I had a friend, and harming a friend was as terrible a crime as disobeying a father. So I chose my sin, and all hell broke lose.

How many are paying for what I did? I only see the ones who suffered the most, 'cause they're right here with me; but how many more died in my wake?

...

Just before he returned the third time, my heart broke again. Stars never fall in limbo, but there's a new shade here; and now, when it's too late for everything, I finally know him. My silver sire, did he ever know me?

I guess it's no use clinging to that question now that there's no one left to ever answer it. Obedience shackled our lives, and then I snapped my chain. I guess eventually he did too; adding yet another death to my name.

At least here I only choke on the memory of blood.