In front of the hospital is a bus stop. I can see it from the window. A man is perched there with a plastic bag by his side. His face is ashen grey. He has been sitting there for days. No bus comes. I pull the curtain across the window. I’m uneasy, can’t eat any more. I have questions; I’m looking for the answers. I wait for an opportunity. Eventually Ines disappears into the bathroom. I rummage through her cupboard. The only thing I find is clean underwear. But just as I close the door, I spot the corner of a photograph. It is sticking out from under the cupboard. Ines is a few years younger in the photo, but I recognise her immediately. The man and woman behind her are her parents. They come to visit now and then. Ines’s mother has long, chestnut-brown hair and a nose ring. Her gaze is clear and sharp. Her father is shorter than his wife and smiles benignly, like a pensive troll. The sea splashes behind them. The honeyed light of the setting sun glistens on the waves. It’s a holiday snap. I know the scene, the smiles, the show of unity. Our family photos don’t look much different. It’s not the beach that transfixes me, it’s the person next to Ines. This person makes me catch my breath. She is smaller than Ines. Her black hair curls softly. They stick out in all directions, as if they are electrically charged. Even this girl’s clothes are familiar. I wear them every night. The sound of the toilet flushing in the bathroom. I quickly shove the photo back under the cupboard.

At night, Ines and I play as if nothing has happened. I am Elly, she is my queen. We make our way down to the hospital’s basement. Long, empty corridors link the individual buildings. There are no windows, just bare concrete and pipes. Down there is where the spare beds are parked too. They have empty mattresses and clean sheets. They are waiting for the next patient. The people who lay on these beds last were discharged or died. Ines reckons the nurses store the dead bodies down here too. The freezers must be somewhere, she says. I nod. I wonder whether Ines has ever seen a dead person before. I don’t ask. I just need to look at her to know the answer. For the first time, I notice the gleam in her eyes. Her pupils flicker. I want to turn round. I look for the stairs. I want to go back to our room. But Ines throws me onto one of the beds. She pushes me through the corridors. Faster and faster. The walls blur. I don’t know where we are any more. I shout: Enough, stop. But Ines doesn’t want to. She swings herself up onto the bed, next to me. It still doesn’t come to a stop. The bed whizzes through the basement, past a thousand shadows. Ines laughs. The echo bounces off the bare walls. I cling on to the mattress. I try to grab Ines’s flying hair and lose my grip. I fall onto the hard concrete. The bed carries on rolling. Ines throws herself on top of me. Her body is much heavier than I expect. I feel myself crumple. My heart stops beating for a moment. Then my pulse races. Ines kneels on my chest, victorious. She says: Now it’s your turn. But I don’t want to play any more. I pull the wig off my head. Ines’s expression turns angry and cold. She disappears into the labyrinth of the basement without me. I clamber to my feet. All alone, I keep wandering down the same corridors over and over. The light goes out. The dark makes me afraid. It’s the crack of light under the door which finally shows me the way. I drag myself up the stairs.