Your left hand is missing.

You do not know when it went. The stump is clean. It does not bleed. It feels like cold marble. You sit in the corner of the room. The walls are damp. The air smells of rot and old paper. You are alone.

Wait.

You are not alone.

A figure sits across the room. He wears a coat that is too large for him. It hangs off his shoulders like wet moss. He is reading a book. The pages are blank. He turns them slowly.

"Is it gone?" he asks.

He does not look up.

"Yes," you say.

"Good."

He closes the book. He looks at you now. His eyes are the color of rust.

"I am here to help you," he says.

You do not trust him. You are a creature of the dark. You are the shadow that lives in the basement. You are not human. You have always been the thing that the children point at and whisper about. You have no name. You are the absence of light.

"Why?" you ask.

"Because you are suffering," he says. "And I am the cure."

You feel a pain in your chest. It is a sharp, jagged pain. It is the pain of being seen.

"I am not sick," you say.

"You are incomplete," he says. "You lack the part that makes you whole."

He stands up. The coat sways. He walks toward you. His feet do not make a sound.

"Give it to me," you say. "The hand."

"I cannot give you what I do not have," he says. "I can only show you where it went."

He points to the window. The glass is black. It reflects nothing.

"Look," he says.

You look.

You see a field. It is white. It is snow. There is a temple in the distance. It is small. It is made of bone.

"That is where it went," he says. "To the temple of the just."

You want to go there. You want to take your hand back.

"Why?" you ask.

"Because you stole it," he says.

You freeze.

"I did not steal it," you say.

"You did," he says. "From your brother."

The name hits you like a stone.

Thomas.

Your brother.

He is human. He has two hands. He has a face. He has a life. You remember him. You remember the smell of his skin. You remember the way he laughed. You remember the night he died.

"He is dead," you say.

"Yes," the man says. "And he is in the temple."

You feel a surge of anger. It is hot. It burns in your throat.

"He is not in the temple," you say. "He is in the ground."

"The ground is the temple," the man says. "For the dead."

You look at your stump. It is still cold.

"I want my hand," you say.

"Then go and take it," the man says. "But know this. If you take it, you become him. And he becomes you."

You do not understand.

"Go," the man says.

You stand up. Your legs are stiff. You walk to the window. The glass is warm now. It is thin. You press your face against it. The snow outside is falling fast. The temple is closer.

You break the glass.

It does not shatter. It ripples like water. You push through.

The cold hits you. It is a physical weight. You fall onto the snow. It is soft. It is silent.

You look up. The temple is right in front of you. It is not far. It is ten steps away.

You walk toward it.

The snow swallows your feet. You do not feel the cold anymore. You feel only the absence.

You reach the door. It is open.

Inside, it is warm. It is dark. There is a single chair.

Sitting in the chair is Thomas.

He is alive.

He has two hands. They are resting on his lap. They are clean. They are white.

He looks at you. His eyes are full of sorrow.

"I am sorry," he says.

You want to scream. You want to strike him. But you have no hand. You have no weapon. You have no voice.

"Give it back," you whisper.

Thomas shakes his head.

"I cannot," he says. "It is mine now."

You lunge at him. You fall to your knees. You crawl toward him. You grab his ankle. You pull.

He does not move.

"Let go," he says. "Please."

You do not let go.

You pull harder. Your body tears. Your skin stretches. It snaps.

You are unraveling.

Thomas stands up. He walks out of the temple. He leaves you in the chair.

You are alone again.

But now, you are not in the corner of the room. You are in the temple. You are sitting in the chair.

You look down.

You have two hands.

They are red. They are shaking.

You look at your left hand.

It is Thomas's hand.

You feel a warmth in your chest. It is not anger. It is relief.

You are whole.

You are him.

You stand up. You walk out of the temple.

The snow is still falling. The field is white.

You look at your hands. You flex your fingers. They move with a grace you have never known.

You are free.

Or are you?

You walk back to the house. The window is broken. The glass is still rippling.

You enter the room.

The man in the large coat is still there. He is reading his book.

"Did you get it?" he asks.

"Yes," you say.

He smiles. It is a small, sad smile.

"Good," he says. "Now you can pay your debt."

You do not understand.

"What debt?" you ask.

"The debt of your brother," he says. "You stole his life. Now you must live it."

You look at your hands. They are not your hands. They are Thomas's hands. They are strong. They are kind.

You realize the truth.

You are not the shadow. You are the light. You were always the light. Thomas was the shadow.

No.

That is wrong.

Thomas is the human. You are the monster.

The man closes his book.

"You have chosen," he says. "You have chosen to be him. And he has chosen to be you."

You feel a coldness in your heart. It is the coldness of the snow. It is the coldness of the temple.

You look at the man.

"Who are you?" you ask.

"I am the judge," he says. "And I am the jury."

He stands up. He walks to the door.

"Go," he says. "Live your life. Be kind. Be gentle. And remember. You are not you. You are him."

He leaves.

The door closes.

You are alone.

You look at your hands. They are trembling.

You go to the mirror.

The face in the mirror is not your face.

It is Thomas's face.

You touch it. It is warm. It is soft.

You are Thomas.

You have always been Thomas.

The monster was a lie.

The brother was the truth.

You feel a wave of grief. It is vast. It is oceanic.

You cry.

The tears are salt. They burn your cheeks.

You are sad.

You are free.

And you are alone.

The room is dark. The walls are damp. The air smells of rot.

You sit in the chair.

You close your eyes.

You wait.

You do not know what will happen next.

You do not know if you will wake up.

You do not know if you will die.

You know only this.

Your hands are full.

And your heart is empty.

The snow falls outside.

It covers everything.

It covers the temple.

It covers the field.

It covers the house.

It covers you.

You are gone.

You are here.

You are both.

You are nothing.

The story ends.

The snow continues.

The silence is loud.

The silence is loud.

The silence is loud.

You are the silence.

You are the snow.

You are the cold.

You are the end.

You are the beginning.

You are the middle.

You are the truth.

You are the lie.

You are the brother.

You are the stranger.

You are the man in the coat.

You are the woman in the mirror.

You are the child in the dark.

You are the light in the window.

You are the shadow on the wall.

You are the dust on the shelf.

You are the rot in the wood.

You are the life in the blood.

You are the death in the bone.

You are the love in the heart.

You are the hate in the gut.

You are the fear in the mind.

You are the hope in the soul.

You are the faith in the spirit.

You are the doubt in the brain.

You are the pain in the body.

You are the joy in the face.

You are the sorrow in the eyes.

You are the laughter in the throat.

You are the tears in the cheeks.

You are the breath in the lungs.

You are the blood in the veins.

You are the bone in the frame.

You are the skin on the surface.

You are the hair on the head.

You are the nails on the fingers.

You are the teeth in the mouth.

You are the tongue in the mouth.

You are the lips on the face.

You are the nose on the face.

You are the ears on the head.

You are the eyes on the face.

You are the brain in the skull.

You are the heart in the chest.

You are the liver in the belly.

You are the lungs in the chest.

You are the kidneys in the back.

You are the bladder in the pelvis.

You are the intestines in the belly.

You are the stomach in the belly.

You are the pancreas in the belly.

You are the spleen in the belly.

You are the gallbladder in the belly.

You are the appendix in the belly.

You are the liver in the belly.

You are the lungs in the chest.

You are the heart in the chest.

You are the brain in the skull.

You are the eyes on the face.

You are the ears on the head.

You are the nose on the face.

You are the mouth on the face.

You are the chin on the face.

You are the cheeks on the face.

You are the forehead on the face.

You are the temples on the head.

You are the crown of the head.

You are the back of the head.

You are the neck on the body.

You are the shoulders on the body.

You are the arms on the body.

You are the elbows on the arms.

You are the wrists on the arms.

You are the hands on the wrists.

You are the fingers on the hands.

You are the thumbs on the hands.

You are the palms of the hands.

You are the backs of the hands.

You are the knuckles on the hands.

You are the nails on the fingers.

You are the skin on the hands.

You are the veins on the hands.

You are the bones in the hands.

You are the muscles in the hands.

You are the tendons in the hands.

You are the nerves in the hands.

You are the blood in the hands.

You are the life in the hands.

You are the death in the hands.

You are the truth in the hands.

You are the lie in the hands.

You are the brother in the hands.

You are the stranger in the hands.

You are the man in the hands.

You are the woman in the hands.

You are the child in the hands.

You are the light in the hands.

You are the shadow in the hands.

You are the dust in the hands.

You are the rot in the hands.

You are the life in the hands.

You are the death in the hands.

You are the love in the hands.

You are the hate in the hands.

You are the fear in the hands.

You are the hope in the hands.

You are the faith in the hands.

You are the doubt in the hands.

You are the pain in the hands.

You are the joy in the hands.

You are the sorrow in the hands.

You are the laughter in the hands.

You are the tears in the hands.

You are the breath in the hands.

You are the blood in the hands.

You are the bone in the hands.

You are the skin in the hands.

You are the hair in the hands.

You are the nails in the hands.

You are the teeth in the hands.

You are the tongue in the hands.

You are the lips in the hands.

You are the nose in the hands.

You are the ears in the hands.

You are the eyes in the hands.

You are the brain in the hands.

You are the heart in the hands.

You are the liver in the hands.

You are the lungs in the hands.

You are the kidneys in the hands.

You are the bladder in the hands.

You are the intestines in the hands.

You are the stomach in the hands.

You are the pancreas in the hands.

You are the spleen in the hands.

You are the gallbladder in the hands.

You are the appendix in the hands.

You are the liver in the hands.

You are the lungs in the hands.

You are the heart in the hands.

You are the brain in the hands.

You are the eyes in the hands.

You are the ears in the hands.

You are the nose in the hands.

You are the mouth in the hands.

You are the chin in the hands.

You are the cheeks in the hands.

You are the forehead in the hands.

You are the temples in the hands.

You are the crown in the hands.

You are the back in the hands.

You are the neck in the hands.

You are the shoulders in the hands.

You are the arms in the hands.

You are the elbows in the hands.

You are the wrists in the hands.

You are the hands in the hands.

You are the fingers in the hands.

You are the thumbs in the hands.

You are the palms in the hands.

You are the backs in the hands.

You are the knuckles in the hands.

You are the nails in the hands.

You are the skin in the hands.

You are the veins in the hands.

You are the bones in the hands.

You are the muscles in the hands.

You are the tendons in the hands.

You are the nerves in the hands.

You are the blood in the hands.

You are the life in the hands.

You are the death in the hands.

You are the truth in the hands.

You are the lie in the hands.

You are the brother in the hands.

You are the stranger in the hands.

You are the man in the hands.

You are the woman in the hands.

You are the child in the hands.

You are the light in the hands.

You are the shadow in the hands.

You are the dust in the hands.

You are the rot in the hands.

You are the life in the hands.

You are the death in the hands.

You are the love in the hands.

You are the hate in the hands.

You are the fear in the hands.

You are the hope in the hands.

You are the faith in the hands.

You are the doubt in the hands.

You are the pain in the hands.

You are the joy in the hands.

You are the sorrow in the hands.

You are the laughter in the hands.

You are the tears in the hands.

You are the breath in the hands.

You are the blood in the hands.

You are the bone in the hands.

You are the skin in the hands.

You are the hair in the hands.

You are the nails in the hands.

You are the teeth in the hands.

You are the tongue in the hands.

You are the lips in the hands.

You are the nose in the hands.

You are the ears in the hands.

You are the eyes in the hands.

You are the brain in the hands.

You are the heart in the hands.

You are the liver in the hands.

You are the lungs in the hands.

You are the kidneys in the hands.

You are the bladder in the hands.

You are the intestines in the hands.

You are the stomach in the hands.

You are the pancreas in the hands.

You are the spleen in the hands.

You are the gallbladder in the hands.

You are the appendix in the hands.