They had more in common than the poison which ate at them. They had both been desperately lonely for as long as either of them could remember, and had felt keenly that they were cut off, not only from life, but from themselves. They found in each other someone with whom to share their experiences.
As well, Éha was to some extent able to draw Deborah out of herself. Part of this was because of the illness they both shared, but more so because Éha was able to teach Deborah how to control the images she saw, without being led astray by them. Deborah found that in many ways, this was true where her own feelings were concerned, too.
Her black melancholy, the feeling of being cut off, had extended itself into her relationships with Malina, Theuli, and the others. None of the others were alone, and this lack of alone-ness, of unending and hopeless personal isolation, to some extent blinded them to her plight, if not Éha’s. True, they sensed her difficulty, and were rankled by their inability to help, but they were helpless when it came to helping her battle her own personal demons.
The first night they spent together in the same room, Deborah was awakened by Éha as she rose from her bed, checked underneath it, looked in the closet, checked the door, went to the window and peered nervously outside . . .