in which the convergence is identified

the girl is supine again in the sunshine. she searches for me in the weakness, she finds nothing, she finds loneliness. she smells copper and iron and salt.

the thrum of the safe one, it felt of need, too. 

she stares, sightless, feeling, separating the thrums. the vampire thrums sharp, the safe one thrums soft, the vampire sucks and spits, the safe one absorbs. 

she screams and presses and presses her belly and then her heart and then her head but they do not separate. you were right, she tells me, they are separate but they are sewn together with twine.

i want to hold her. i want to whisper what she already knows. but her, now she must take it, she must stand up. 

nostalgia, it is real, it is there, she says. there is a harmonic in there that is lovely and safe. 

i know, i say. 

it is real, she says. 

you have to be careful, i say. 

i have to be careful, she says.

is it worth it? she says, she asks the ceiling, she asks the sunshine.

i am trapped in this room, i am trapped with the thrumming, forever, in my head. 

forever.

how, she says, do i cut their twine? how do i help the safe one? she is all i have left.