I’ve never been good with comforting people, particularly strangers. So when someone starts crying, my brain immediately starts screaming “NOPE NOPE NOPE.” However, I don’t have time to tell Riley that I’m incapable of helping him through whatever shit he’s dealing with, because right at that moment the wall opposite us burst open in a flurry of shards and dirt, a piece of metal imbedding itself above my head. Frozen in fear, my ears ring as I stare at the hole just created. There’s a dark silhouette standing in front of a tunnel, and as they step into the light I feel my breath leave me. 

It’s a woman, but instead of having flesh and blood, everything except her head and right shoulder is a smooth silvery mesh. The only things she’s wearing is a strap across her chest for the bag on her back. As she steps forward, the metal at her joints bends smoothly, almost as if they’re made of liquid metal. I almost reach out my hand in fascination, but the look in her eyes makes me quickly rethink even trying to get near her. My hearing gradually comes back, and I hear panting coming from beside me. I look over, and dear old funny guy’s bleeding out from his leg where a thin piece of metal is sticking out. I immediately snap to attention and crawl over. My hands hover over his leg, but without knowing what to do I freeze, looking up at his face scrunched up in pain. I hear footsteps come towards us and stop, and I look up to see bionic girl towering over us.

“Let me help.” Her voice is surprisingly soft but scratchy like a smoker’s. Her words process after a moment, and I silently move out of the way. Bending down, she quickly pulls out the metal shard and puts her finger inside the bleeding hole. After a second Riley start screaming and shaking, and a second later the smell of burning flesh hits. I turn to the side and dry retch, and I feel a pat on my back. I swivel around to see robo girl crouched beside me, an unconscious Riley slung over her shoulder. Before I have time to react she grabs me, throws me over her other shoulder, and runs towards the hole. As she races deeper inside, it gets darker, and eventually, the dark becomes so intense that I feel like my eyes are completely closed. I close them, and when I open them a second later I’m looking at the wall inside my hotel room.

I sit up and look around, the reach over for my phone on the nightstand. Looking at the cracked screen, I remember the run-in my brother and I had with the local kiddie gang, and start giggling. I guess real life isn’t as boring as I thought.

I set the phone back down, I lay back down then realize I forgot to check the time. Feeling lazy, I say, “Aiden, what’s the time?” After no reply, I look over at his bed and see he’s gone. Then I hear a groaning noise in the bathroom. I immediately jump out of bed and race to the bathroom, flinging the door open to see Aiden on the floor clutching his side. I scream and scramble over to his side, shouting “Aiden can you hear me, are you ok?!”

He only nods his head in reply, and I immediately know I need to call 911. I get up to get my phone, but he whispers, “Wait.” I hesitate, then turn towards him and sit back down, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m not sure how welcoming Greece is to trans dudes, so don’t call anyone.”

I tilt my head back, tearing up from frustration and sadness. My baby brother is laying here in pain, and I can’t do anything about it. I dry my tears and assess the situation. He’d partially taken off his binder, but instead of fully taking it off it was folded over his chest, so it had even more compression. I’m guessing he got tired of struggling with it, leaving it like that and letting it cut off his blood supply and air flow until he collapsed. I try to pull his binder up further to take it off, but after he shouts in pain, I decide to cut it off. I get up and search for some scissors, and after a frantic rummage in the main room, I find them in a drawer. I rush back to the bathroom and slowly cut through the tough material, whispering “It’s ok it’s ok” for every whimper he makes. After I make the last cut, he audibly breathes in. I also take a deep breath, sighing after a moment. I collapse next to him on the floor, and say “Be careful next time.”

“Okay.” His voice cracks and I look over to see him silently crying. Since it would be painful if I hugged him, I instead reach out my hand and grab his. We lay like this until I hear his ragged breathing turn into a steady rhythm. I look over to see that he’s sleeping, then I look back up and close my own eyes.