:Beehive

I don't have my own life. Now I'm just her. I can no longer feel or think my own way. Now I can't be myself. I tried so hard to understand her, to understand her fears, to understand why she suffers so much. I'm deeply imbued with her life. But it wasn't always like this. It used to be completely different.

We lived peacefully side by side. Well, I did, and she didn't completely. But in any case, we certainly lived side by side; we didn't have much influence on each other. I had my own life, and she had hers. We lived apart. I didn't interfere in her affairs, and she didn't interfere with mine. And that was fine; this arrangement suited us both. We didn't fully understand each other, but we tolerated each other and didn't get in each other's way. Besides, we were completely different. She was strong, energetic, spontaneous, and always stubbornly pursued her goals; she knew what she wanted. She knew her flaws, but she also believed in herself, and—knowing her strengths—she knew how to use them to her best advantage. She treated failures as lessons for the future, trying not to make the same mistakes again. She was a fierce individualist and an unpredictable volcano. No matter how you looked at her, you could tell she was managing her life. I was completely different. This doesn't mean I was some gray mouse with a complex, but I approached life completely differently. Although younger, I was more thoughtful and composed. And I think my parents also considered me the well-behaved daughter, studying hard and carefully carrying out all her duties, while she was considered an untamed devil. And now I'm still the one you can always rely on and who never lets you down. However, she's no longer the same exuberant, carefree teenager. But why and when this happened—I don't know the answer to these questions. Besides, numerous specialists who have spoken with her can't clearly or specifically explain what was really happening to my sister. There probably wasn't a single moment when everything started to go wrong. Or maybe there was, but I couldn't grasp it, I missed a crucial moment when my sister needed me. Maybe if I'd realized something was wrong then, if I'd helped her then, everything would be different today. Maybe Ula was counting on me then, trying to reach out to me somehow, but I was deaf to everything around me, I'd let her down. I didn't notice anything disturbing; for me, everything remained the same, until one day, or rather, night.

We lived in the same room. In the middle of the night, a sound woke me. When I opened my eyes, I looked at Ula's bed. It was completely dark, and I saw nothing but the outline of her figure. I got up and went to her bed. She was lying in a mess of sheets, tossing and turning in her sleep, saying something. I sat on the edge of her bed and leaned over her to hear what she was saying. She was shaking and breathing heavily. I touched her forehead; it was terribly hot. She kept talking, sometimes whispering, sometimes almost screaming, but I couldn't understand her words. I tried to wake her, shaking her hand gently.

"Ula, Ula, wake up, it's just a dream."

Suddenly, she called out and sat upright.

"Ula, calm down, it's just me. Everything's okay, you had a bad dream. "

She stared at me with terrified eyes. She was still breathing heavily and loudly. She was still shaking.

"Is that you? So good. It's only you..." she whispered.

"Yes, it's just me, there's no one else here."

She seemed calmer now. She was breathing a little easier. But she was still shaken.

"What did you dream?" I asked.

"What did I dream?" She suddenly became nervous again, as if I'd reminded her of the terrible dream.

"Oh, nothing, never mind. It was just a bad dream."

She clearly avoided my gaze, as if afraid I'd read the nightmare in her eyes. She must have dreamed something she wanted to hide, was afraid of it, or maybe she just didn't want to think about it anymore. I wasn't going to press her for a confession, and besides, I felt cold and sleepy. It was finally the middle of the night. I squeezed her hand tighter and said,

"Okay, Ulka, let's go to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow.

" "Mhm," she murmured, and lay down on the bed, facing the wall.

I lay down, but sleep wouldn't come. I heard Ula wasn't sleeping either; she was breathing restlessly, sighing every now and then, and tossing and turning in bed. I don't know how long she couldn't fall asleep, because I fell asleep after a few minutes.

However, we didn't talk the next day. When I woke up, Ula was gone. She always got up at the crack of dawn, every day before and after school, and she had some extracurricular activity: swimming, tennis, horseback riding, or some hobby club. She was incredibly active, never missing an opportunity to meet new people or experience something interesting. I didn't see her again that morning; she had a dentist appointment in the afternoon, and she returned late in the evening. Her mood was cheerful, and she talked with laughter about her new boyfriend. She seemed the same as usual, but I sensed a strange unease in her demeanor. We didn't talk about the previous night again.

The next few days passed as usual. My sister didn't have any nightmares, or at least I didn't know of any. But gradually, Ula became more and more absent. She was home more and more, stopped attending extracurricular activities, returned home immediately after school, and didn't go out unless she had to. She stopped smiling, no longer talked cheerfully about her friends—I don't know if she even had any anymore. She acted as if nothing had lost interest in her. She would lie in bed for days, staring blankly ahead. Our parents weren't concerned about this change. Besides, my father was rarely home; he was constantly away on business trips. And my mother? My mother was even happy that Ula had "grown up." She once told me she was very happy that my older sister was finally behaving like a seventeen-year-old should, being more serious, more balanced, no longer running around with her friends but spending more time at home, studying. And I don't blame her for thinking that. Ula really did give that impression. She did spend a lot of time at her desk poring over a book, and when Mom came in, it looked like she was studying. But I knew she wasn't reading at all, she just stared blankly out the window for hours. At first, she'd only occasionally lose herself in thought while doing her homework, but then she'd sit at her desk specifically to stare out the window. I don't know what she saw there; all you could see from the window was old garages, and she'd stare for hours, as if watching a good movie... She'd also often sit on the bed and tear up blank pages. She'd tear off tiny pieces. She could tear up dozens of pages in a single day this way. Besides, I don't blame Mom for not noticing the changes in Ula's behavior as quickly as I did. It all happened gradually, over the course of a few months. I had no idea what was happening to my sister. I didn't know what to do; I thought about telling Mom, but on the other hand, I didn't want to worry her if it wasn't necessary. First, I decided to talk to Ula.

One evening, I sat next to her on the bed. As usual, she was sitting there tearing up a piece of paper. Beside her was a pile of small pieces of paper. She paid me no attention, so absorbed was she in her work. I decided to be gentle.

"Am I bothering you?" I asked.

"No," she replied, not even looking at me.

"I wanted to talk to you for a moment.

" "I'm listening.

" "Could you stop this..." I hesitated, wondering how to describe what she was doing, "...this tearing up of paper?"

She sighed deeply and somewhat ostentatiously, but finally looked at me. There was a look of resentment in her eyes, as if I had interrupted something truly important.

"So what's the matter?" she asked.

"About you.

" "Could you be a little more specific?

" "I'm talking about your behavior."

She didn't answer.

"I can see something's wrong. What's wrong with you?"

She remained silent, not meeting my eyes.

"Please, tell me what's wrong!" I guess I shouldn't have raised my voice. But I didn't know how to reach her anymore. She pursed her lips, remaining stubbornly silent.

"Ula..." I began again.

"Leave me alone," she interrupted, standing abruptly. "Everything's fine! Get away from me! Stop following me around and watching my every move. Not only are they doing this, but you have to!"

She screamed the last sentence at the top of her voice. Tears flowed from her eyes, and the sobs prevented her from saying anything more. She sat back down on the bed and covered her face with her hands, sobbing loudly.

"Ulka, I'm just really worried about you. That's all," I said quietly.

She looked up at me with tearful eyes, looked at me, and ran out of the room, slamming the door. I sat there completely stunned. I couldn't move. Why had she reacted so violently, and who did she mean when she said I shouldn't follow her around like "them"? She looked at me with this strange look. First, as if with hope that I wanted to help her, and then with fear, a kind of distrust, suspicion. I realized she was looking at me as if I were an enemy. And yet, all she wanted was her well-being.

After that, Ula stopped talking to me at all. She acted as if I threatened her. She became oversensitive, cautious, and nervous. Over time, it got even worse. She couldn't sit still. She'd sit on the bed, on a chair, and then lie down again. It was as if something wouldn't let her stay in one place for long. It was clear she was constantly experiencing a strange restlessness. Often, she'd just pace back and forth across the room, from the door to the window, peering out anxiously. Later, she wouldn't sit in front of the window at all; in fact, she began to panic and avoid it. She was afraid to sit there, or even look out. Only sometimes, when it was completely dark, would she creep up and sneak a frightened peek from behind the curtain. She became terribly suspicious and acted very strangely. She wouldn't leave any of her belongings lying around; everything she owned was hidden in cupboards and drawers. Nothing, not even for a moment, was left on the shelves or on the bed. Several times a day, she went through all her things, as if searching through them, checking to make sure everything was in its place and nothing was missing. She also visibly avoided eye contact, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, not even for a second. She wouldn't let anyone touch her; she kept her distance, even a few inches, from everyone. I also noticed that she wouldn't touch anything white or red. She didn't eat those foods or wear those colors. I finally decided I had to do something; this couldn't go on. After all, she was my sister; I couldn't just watch her suffer. I decided I'd talk to her again, whether she wanted to or not.

Eventually, my mother noticed something was wrong. But she only saw things that seemed to be the result of all these changes. She asked my sister why all the shelves were empty, because it looked awful. Or once, when she asked her to hang up the laundry, Ula refused without giving a reason. Mom scolded her for being lazy, but I knew Ula simply couldn't do it because she was afraid to touch the white and red clothes. Mom didn't see what was truly important, or maybe she was simply afraid to acknowledge it.

I chose a day when we were supposed to be home alone. Dad was away on a business trip, as usual, and Mom had to go away for two days. My parents rarely left us alone overnight, but now they had no choice. I returned home right after school. I prepared dinner and waited a long time. But Ula didn't come. I was sure she'd come right after school, as usual. She always came home right away, didn't go to any extracurricular activities anymore, and never saw her friends. But now she wasn't coming. It was almost dark, and I was getting increasingly anxious. I thought about going out to meet Ula, but I didn't see her. I returned home and called all her friends, but they all responded with surprise that Ula hadn't been there in ages. I panicked; I knew I had to find her. I felt like something bad had happened, or was about to happen. I searched for her for a long time, everywhere Ula used to frequent, but I couldn't find her. Resigned, I walked home through the park. When we were little, we often came here with my parents. We ran between the trees, laughing, chasing each other happily. We were really close then. Now those times seem so distant. I was truly happy then, and so was Ula. Why can't things be as good now?

My thoughts were interrupted by raised voices. When I looked in the direction they were coming from, I saw only bushes and, behind them, some vague human figures... I walked closer. There stood an old woman and a middle-aged man. The nervous woman was leaning over a blond girl huddled under a tree. It was Ula! I ran to her immediately.

"Ula!" I called. "I've been looking for you all day!"

But she sat completely still, staring straight ahead, her face impassive.

"Do you know this girl?" the old woman asked me. "She's been sitting there for a long time, not answering questions, and giving no sign of life. Nothing reaches her at all. I was scared that something had happened to her, was she sick?

I didn't have time to calm the nervous old lady, even though she bombarded me with words.

"Thank you so much," I said, wishing they would leave us alone. "My sister is fine. Seriously, you can go now."

After a moment's hesitation, they walked away. I sat helplessly next to Ula under a tree. I buried my face in my hands

and took a deep breath. I needed a moment to calm down.

When I looked back at Ula, she was still sitting motionless, her knees tucked under her chin.

"I was looking for you," I said quietly. "I called all your friends, I went to your school, then to every restaurant, bar, and disco I could think of. But you probably don't care."

She remained silent. I'd had enough. I was really trying to help her. I shook her. She didn't react.

"Ula, speak up! What's wrong with you?" I shouted.

She remained unmoved. I had no idea what to do or what to say. So I sat next to her and said nothing. I don't know how long we sat there speechless, in complete silence. It might have been a dozen minutes, or maybe more than an hour. I felt cold and was about to get up and go home regardless of what she did, but then Ula spoke.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

I looked at her in surprise.

"But, Ula, for what?"

She was still sitting completely still. She only moved her eyes.

"For all that, for being worried. I was at home, the door was locked. I wanted to go for a walk, take a short walk.

" "But why didn't you come home? And why are you sitting so still now and...

" "Please don't move! They'll see us!" You can't move either! They can't see us talking!

At first, I was truly frightened, frozen in utter terror. I looked around cautiously, but I couldn't see anyone. I was nervous. What's this all about? This has to be some kind of joke!

"Ula!" I jumped up. "What are you talking about?! Who can't see us talking? There's no one here!"

She still sat in the same position. Besides the fact that her lips moved as she spoke, only her eyes betrayed her nervousness. She was in complete panic.

"You can't see them because they're very good at hiding! They follow me every step of the way, watching my every move. They're plotting something, I don't know what they're up to, they want to kill me. I don't need to see them, I can feel their presence. They're watching me constantly. When I walk down the street, at school, even at home. I have to be careful, I have to be vigilant, I have to...!" "Ula," she whispered, as if suddenly realizing she'd said far more than she'd intended.

I stood paralyzed over her. I couldn't say a word, or even move. Her choked, frantic voice, the one she'd used to deliver that awful monologue, was still ringing in my ears. She was shaking; I could tell she wanted to scream it all out, but all she could manage was a whisper. Who is she afraid of? I couldn't understand anything anymore. I knelt down beside her.

"Ula," I whispered, looking into her terrified eyes. "Tell me, who are you talking about? There's really no one here. "

She looked at me.

"They're here, watching me, following me, observing me..." Constantly.

I knew there was no point in continuing the conversation. I wouldn't find out who she was talking about, and I wouldn't convince her there was no one here. Now I had to take her home, calm her down. That's the most important thing. I began to speak to her patiently and calmly, as if to a child.

"Ulka, listen, you're completely safe. There's no one here but you and me." I waited a moment; she seemed a little calmer. "It'll be dark and cold soon, so we'll go home together now; nothing will happen to us. You're with me."

She sat, looking at me and not saying a word.

"Surely you'll be safer at home," I added. "Come on, we'll go so quietly that no one will even notice us, hmm?"

I held out my hand to her. I saw her hesitate.

"They see me everywhere, wherever I am. I'm afraid of them," she said, but she took my hand and we walked home at a brisk pace. I could barely keep up with her; we were practically running. Ula kept glancing back suspiciously, and her hand, which I held, was trembling.

Even then, on the way home, I knew that what had happened today would be impossible to ignore. Something strange was happening to my sister, something I didn't understand and couldn't explain. She talked about people who didn't exist and did things that made no sense. That was all I knew at the time. I was terrified like never before.

After returning home, Ula was still in bed. Even when her mother returned, she couldn't change anything. My mother and I came to the conclusion that we couldn't help Ula, that we couldn't do it alone. And then Ula spoke with a psychiatrist for the first time. It wasn't easy to convince her to come see her. It only took a lot of persuasion. The doctor was patient and calm, but he learned almost nothing from Ula. Mom, dad, and I also talked to him. He said he thought the situation was serious; Ula was isolated from everyone and difficult to reach. He said she lived in her own inner world, and even though it was hell, she couldn't break free. She felt like someone was tormenting her, watching her, and trying to hurt her. She was certain of this; she truly felt like someone was watching her and hearing her voice. She can't distinguish reality from what's created in her mind. It's beyond her control. She feels tormented by people, by entities; she can't identify who's persecuting her, but for her, it's completely authentic. She truly believes it, she's afraid, exhausted, and hopeless that anyone will help her.

"She can't handle this on her own," the doctor added. "You must decide on treatment. I don't want to deceive anyone; I'll be honest. I seriously suspect that the hallucinations and delusions, the existence of which is beyond doubt, are the beginning of the illness."

The next few days were increasingly worse. Ula lay in bed, not speaking to anyone, staring off into the distance. The medication prescribed by the doctor brought no visible improvement, but he claimed it might still be too early to see any results. Ula suffered increasingly more. The day came when she couldn't bear it any longer. She tried to commit suicide.

Every day, her mother gave her medication, morning and evening. It never occurred to her that my sister had stopped taking it. Perhaps that's why the symptoms intensified. It turned out that Ula had been collecting pills for several weeks. However, this wasn't revealed until later. I'll never forget the impression this event made on me. I returned home that evening, completely unaware of what was happening. I found my mother in tears. She told me what had happened. I wanted to go to the hospital to see Ula immediately, but my mother said she'd already been there and there was no point, because Ula was still in a coma. My sister didn't regain consciousness until the next day.

When the hospital called, my parents were at work, so I was the first in the family to talk to Ula. I took her beloved stuffed animal, a teddy bear my dad had given her long ago. Even now, she adored that teddy bear, and lately, she'd been cuddling her face so often against its soft fur. I think it gave her a sense of security.

A nurse led me into the room. There was only one bed, and my sister was lying in it. Hooked up to a complicated machine, an IV drip in her veins, her heartbeat and breathing monitored on a nearby screen, and some tubes to help her breathe. She was lying on her back with her arms at her sides, her eyes closed, her face terribly pale, and her lips blue. I stood there, staring at her motionless. I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know if she was fully conscious or asleep. I noticed a chair by the bed and sat down. Then Ula stirred. She opened her eyes and looked at me. Her gaze was blurry, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

I wondered what to say, but Ula spoke first.

"Did they tell you everything...?" she asked. Her words were labored, her mouth dry.

Then I took her teddy bear out of my backpack and placed it on the bed.

"Just tell me why..." I managed one sentence.

Then she started speaking, something inside her snapped. She spoke quickly, as if afraid someone would interrupt her, that she wouldn't make it in time, or that an impenetrable wall would surround her again.

"I had no strength, do you understand, Agata? I had had enough of this constant torment. I didn't even have a moment's rest; they were with me everywhere, literally constantly! Not a moment's peace, I had to be constantly on guard; they were just waiting for my careless move. My life became one giant mess. I was constantly afraid, I felt something bad was about to happen. First, I was afraid to leave the house, then my room, and even my bed. Every person on the street looked at me meaningfully, as if trying to tell me something, to warn me of impending danger. It was too terrifying, so I preferred not to go out at all. But even then, they wouldn't leave me alone. They were still standing in front of the house, and sometimes when I looked out the window, I saw figures hiding in the bushes. They stood there even at night, as if to tell me I wouldn't be free of them. I stopped going near the window, but they still had control over me. I saw them in people's eyes, even yours, my mom's and dad's, so I was afraid to look anyone in the eye. I saw them in the mirrors. I don't know what they looked like exactly because I immediately looked away. They even chased me once, but I managed to lose them in the crowd. It was exhausting! I have no strength left, I can't stand it any longer...!

She stopped. She couldn't speak anymore. She was crying. I sat quietly beside her; I knew my presence was enough. She told me what had been bothering her for a long time. Before, she couldn't say it, maybe "they" had forbidden her. Now she blurted it out; it had been so long since she'd truly cried, now she felt no embarrassment.

"Ulka," I said. "Finally, hug that teddy bear. I've missed you, poor thing. "

And then, for the first time in a long time, she looked into my eyes. I smiled at her and handed her the teddy bear.

"I really understand everything," I added.

"You have no idea how glad I am that at least you believe me," she said. "Listen, I feel safe here, they're not here, they can't see me, but what will happen next?" "She lowered her gaze. "When I leave the hospital, everything will return. Agata, are they waiting for me there?"

I became worried. What should I answer her? I've managed to re-establish some connection with her, but if I tell her now that what she's saying is untrue, she'll lose all trust in me and consider me an enemy again. I can't ruin this; she's barely opened the door to her world a crack, and at any moment she could slam it shut again. But I can't confirm the existence of some mysterious people watching her.

" "Ula, that's not important now," I said. "The most important thing now is for you to rest; don't think about what will happen later."

She closed her eyes for a moment, but then opened them again.

"But tell me just one more thing. I don't have to go back there yet? I mean, at least not yet. Will I be here for a while longer?" She looked at me hopefully, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Of course," I said. "There's no question of you leaving the hospital yet. You need an IV, and you're still very weak."

She sighed, seeming a little calmer now.

"Okay. But promise me you'll tell me before I have to go home. But you will tell me," she lowered her voice. "You're the only one telling me the truth."

I felt a little strange; I'd learned to speak quietly when she was worried.

"I'll definitely let you know. Don't worry about anything," I said soothingly.

She closed her eyes. Black, regular lines moved across the screen monitoring her breathing, and a monotonous sound could be heard. Uli the bear lay forgotten on the bed, looking at me with sparkling eyes. I felt terribly sad and ill. I thought, if I was so tired, how must Ula feel, experiencing all this every day?

Four months had passed since that day. My sister spent several weeks in the hospital. First, her physical condition prevented her from being discharged, and then she herself postponed that day. She kept insisting that only in the hospital was she safe, and that "they" were waiting for her outside and at home. Everyone explained to her that this wasn't true, that no one was there, that the medications she regularly took in the hospital were simply taking effect, and that was why she no longer felt like anyone was watching her. Her parents, doctors, psychiatrist, and psychologist talked to her. But she didn't trust them. What they said contradicted what she saw. She refused to believe she was sick, refused to accept that everything that had happened over the past few months was untrue. What she had seen, heard, and feared had cost her so much anxiety, had made it impossible for her to live a normal life. She couldn't believe it was all in her mind, just a figment of her imagination, or rather, a disease. She really did see people in the bushes. Someone was chasing her...

I think I was the only one who truly understood her; I knew what she'd been through best. I tried a different approach to convince her to return home. The doctors said they couldn't confirm the existence of what she was saying, but I knew Ula wouldn't be convinced that way. To understand her, you have to try to feel as she did. I didn't deny or confirm the existence of any mysterious people; I told her that even if they did exist, they were no longer at home, gone, and never coming back. At first, she didn't believe me. I persuaded her to return home as a trial. I promised her there was no one there, and if she wanted, she could return to the hospital at any time. I risked all the trust she had placed in me. However, I knew she wouldn't see anyone because the medication was working.

Ula believed me. We returned home. You could say it worked; she stayed home.

But I still can't seem to live a normal life...

Epilogue

My name is Ula. I'm seventeen years old. I don't know if I want to live anymore. Maybe I'm stupid, maybe I'm selfish, maybe I only think about myself, but I really don't have the strength anymore. I tried so hard, and I'm still trying. Every day is terribly exhausting, but I tell myself I'll endure for my mother and my sister. It's mainly for Agata that I'm still alive; if it weren't for her, life would be completely unbearable. Once, before my hospitalization, I was alone with everything. It all became too much for me, I couldn't cope anymore, and that's why I tried to kill myself. It was the most terrifying period of my life; I had no control over my fears. I regret not reaching out to my sister for help at the very beginning; then everything would have been different. But I locked myself in my own terrible world and couldn't break free. Now it's different. Agata is the closest person to me. I trust her. She's gradually teaching me to live a normal life. Thanks to her, I returned home, then she convinced me to go for a walk with her, and for the past few days, I've even been going to school. I no longer feel like I'm being followed, I don't see any suspicious people. However, I still feel like my surroundings are hostile. I'm often afraid of the most ordinary things and situations, but these are just moments, moments when everything comes flooding back. Bad memories and dark thoughts suddenly come to mind, and I feel overwhelmed by the enormity of life. I feel like even everyday things are overwhelming me. But then Agata comes; I tell her everything that worries me and what I'm afraid of. She teaches me a normal, sober approach to life. I don't know where she finds so much patience and gentleness. She calms me down, explains that nothing bad is happening, that I'm not in danger. I trust her and believe that with time, everything will somehow work out. Although it's not completely fine, it's much better. Besides, I probably will never be completely normal, like it used to be, before all this started. I can no longer be happy; life seems sad, meaningless, and joyless. But I have Agata, she's with me and always will be. Maybe someday she'll convince me that life isn't as terrible as I think. In time, everything will become more colorful, in time, everything will fall into place. I'm safe.