Ground Zero.

Yvette bit her lip and covered the elaborate cuts on her forearm, with pulling down the sleeves of her hoodie. She raised a hazy eye on her sister, offering up a glass, pointing her head to the big, cubic crystal whisky bottle. "Care for a drink?" She said, half drunk.

"This is, like, soooooo not you. This is unusual of you. What has really gotten over you" said Sybil, far away from being approving. Yvette shrugged and refilled her own glass anyway. The crystal shivered heavily in her hand.

"I never saw you like this. Never! Is this depression? What happened?" Sybil went on, without considering sitting down, staring at her older sister, who seemed to experiment with those sections of her wardrobe which had been untouched since the late nineties. Her teenage years all Goth and grunge.

"I happened." Yvette said in a hoarse voice. "Like it always does and it always will do. It's always down to us, you know, Sybil? In the end, it's all just us." she said, staring blank, raising a shaky index finger, drawing a tiny circle in the air, like she was gesturing around to the outside world, and then, to knock on the side of her forehead. "It's all… just us. That's all"

"Was it that prick? The Italian? He left you, right? Cheated on you in Europe, did he? You said you were okay with that… I did not make sense to me though. Still doesn't. How can that be okay? He left now?"

"The Italian… has left for good. I think. But, you know, it doesn't matter. Prick or not prick… he is no more. Nothing matters."

"Yeah, but you're still a mess! You're scaring me, Yvette baby. She saw a pack of pills carefully dodged. Whoa… you takin' pills?!" Sybil burst out, jumping towards the quite casually covered packets of mood stabilizers, flipped between some lady mags. Yvette just shrugged and shone a drunken smile. "It's okay… it's all okay, cause it doesn't matter and it's all just us. We create it all."

"Honey, sis, I… I need to tell someone. We need to get you a psychologist ASAP. I know quite a good number of them. I can contact them right away. We… someone needs to come and help us."

"Help us?" Yvette cuts in

"Yeah."

"You think you need some help, Sybil? Can I help you, darling'? Want a drink? Or a pill?" she said with a shrewd smile

"Gosh, Yvette! I can't get you, this is so not you! You're not being serious!"

"Maybe you're too serious."

"Why don't you just… get yourself together? Brace up and get your acts together. This mood won't help you."

Yvette poured another drink and gulped voraciously

"Why don't you just… die?"

Yvette was a little surprised. The cup hung loosely between her lips, spilling on her. She could not really believe her sister just said that. But, well, it was out anyway. It doesn't matter, really, since nothing really does.

Sybil's lips shivered, as she opened her mouth and closed it again, failing at finding the right words, or any words, at all. She felt like she was blasted by a ray of frost, something unexpected, uncalled for, and out of the blue, something terrible and horrifying. Someone stole her beloved sister's mind and put some dark, cold ooze instead of it.

After a couple of seconds, which seemed like hours, she staggered to the entry of her sister's apartment and bounced through the door, fighting her tears, without being capable of saying anything more, without further ado.

Yvette did not flinch hearing the bang of the closing door, ignored some new incoming notifications on her phone with a single swipe. She did not pay a visit to the office the whole week, so the mid-level management started to freak out. The system was self-sustaining for years, but Yvette started to follow up things more closely in the last couple of years, which had a very beneficial effect on the company - numbers started to soar, and now the decision about going to the stock market was very much on the table - not something the execs could even dream of only a year before. But the carefree, no-nonsense approach, lovely personality and the secret intuitions Yvette brought to the board after her Dad left, really helped to go through with some crucial decisions, and navigate dangerous waters without heavy internal conflict. Yvette demoted herself to an employee and allowing the CEO to take charge and with reassured loyalty to the company.

Yvette always made clear that she, as owner, is strictly playing from the background, leaving the strategic leadership to the CEO and the board of directors - but the business structure quickly got accustomed to her beneficial presence.

But Yvette had other things in her mind lately. She disconnected from all those channels, and executed Nicodemis' ever stranger orders and wishes obediently. The Egyptian urged her to dive into the bottom of her grief until she finds utter and complete freedom, because that will unlock the potential for unconditional love. In other words, she needs to destroy her full spiritual consciosusness and rebuild herself from a self-driven, experience-centered point of view, re-establishing the focus on herself, instead of hopelessly longing for outside confirmation.

Yvette, honestly, did not care much. Some of these blurry days, she thought she is no more than a virtual sex toy for her Master, and his guidance is a load of bollocks, serving only for chaining her to Nicodemis. But it was still better than the scary, black oblivion whirling in the depth of her heart. The Egyptian paid attention to her, in the form of chat messages and video calls, true, but Yvette knew well that actually these devices of the modern age has a very a real effect on the sub-consciousness of their users. A meager chat exchange can go deep into the soul as well, because what really matters is the energy created by the awareness on both sides of the digital channel. The ancient ones did not need devices at all, that is what the lost art of telepathy was all about. Thought transfer wasn't even needed when, in the age of highly acute minds and hearts full of love, people could experience total empathy, a full review of their loved ones presence and condition, simply by concentrating on them and praying for their well-being.

She playfully caressed the slowly healing carving on her inner arm, which she did with a razor. The brown, bloody scab in the loose shape of the Eye was looking at her, so now it could watch over her every time she glances down on her hands, until it heals… Yvette had the perverted hope with a black smile, that maybe it won't ever heal up to disappear completely. She hoped the cut was deep enough.

She did not ask for the help her advisors - what could they say to a wreck of her former self, hovering on the cushions of alcohol and mood stabilizers, in a constant flux of binge drinking, drug trips and erotic ecstasy. In a way, it was a liberating travel to terra incognita, exploring landscapes she never dared to set foot in, not in her high school or college years, so it could have been very invigorating if she had not felt the utter devastation she in unleashing on her soul, which was crying and shivering in pain and despair while being consumed by the burning rage of the Material all around it.

It happened a few days later, when she was working on pushing her boundaries further out, according to the instructions of Nico. She had several pills, numbing out everything, turning her consciousness into white noise. The practice was about adhering to the Hidden Lust inside her - which was the focus of her "training" most of the time anyway. She kept her arousal up inside her, with vivid mental images and whisky, tuning everything else down, conditioning herself into the state of an obedient bimbo. She was hanging out lately in Jay's "white room", because it reminded her to sexual pleasures of the past, tormented her with everything constantly reminding her to Jay, who seemed to have left town without a word, and because it featured a way better home theater system than what Yvette had at home. Today was about fulfilling a filthy fantasy she had a few months back- chained herself to the metal shelves on the wall, just like they did with Jay, after attaching a gag into her lips. She threw the keys out of reach, and just breathed there, her nipples pointing hard, her holes thoroughly lubricated with lube, industrial metal banging from the speakers and subwoofers, with the entry door left half open, and with the faint, drifting, detuned, semi-conscious desire according to the instruction of Nicodemis. It happened exactly then. Yvette did not realize it, but it was well after 4 AM by that time. The curtains were closed, but there seemed to be a tiny gap between them, as the first ray of sunlight appeared on the flat Eastern horizon of Jay's third story apartment, burning up bright through the violet sky. Yvette, through the haze in her mind, first thought that something exploded outside, winking angrily at the sudden burst of light, waiting for it to fade away, but it did not fade, it just crawled higher and burned brighter, hurting her eyes, washing all over, in a tiny, thin line on her exposed body. Jay stormed in. It's always been you Yvette, I am just not ready for a commitment of such, I will always love you and keep you deep within my soul.  Ciao, my love, see you soon.