His messenger buzzed in his pocket. Avery didn’t care to check.

  “… Corja! Corja, go home, go; we are closing, go, just—”

  He opened his eyes.

  Shit.

  His vision was blurry; he couldn’t balance himself. He felt dizzy.

  “Unusual,” he mumbled to himself.

  Someone helped him reach the doors, then Avery was pushed outside.

  It was cold—he was hit in the face by the fresh, very icy air.

  He took a breath. Closed his eyes again. He slowly started to walk and had to cling to the walls and fences. He knew the route.

  With his eyes closed, listening only to what was around, he felt safer.

  There was no one around; it was late. The day was a normal working one; people were at home. Not many were at bars, drunk, as he was now.

  Shit.

  Avery had to stop. Nausea struck him. He had to breathe for a long time to manage his body.

  His eyes were still closed.

  He was at a place ten minutes’ walk from his apartment. Seven. Four… Avery was at his door. He struggled for a moment. He fell to the floor and had to pull himself up while holding the handle.

  Nausea again. Dizziness.

  Avery had to sit on the floor, doors still locked. He listened to the surroundings. In his building, it was quite calm. Were all the people asleep?

  After a few minutes, he felt slightly better and tried again.

  The doors opened, and he went inside. No lights.

  He opened his eyes, but still, he couldn’t see everything clearly.

  It didn’t matter; his place was very empty. Barely any furniture, nothing to stumble upon.

  He managed to reach the bathroom and vomit. Then, he undressed very slowly; his motions were unrealistic. His muscles, as if overtrained, ached.

  Avery had to clean himself, and after he decided to immerse himself in the water for some time, as it always calmed him… as the water poured, the sounds were already quieting his spinning thoughts. His brain was running in circles, showing pictures Avery didn’t want to recollect or think about.

  Yet, he couldn’t escape.

  Xavier.

  Ten years ago, this animal had been panting all these disgusting words; Xavier was so excited, saliva dripped from his mouth, straight into Avery’s ear.

  Xavier.

  Avery shook his head, causing immense pain. Just not a migraine…

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  He focused, turned on his energy.

  He had stopped Crystal healing for how many days? He didn’t know.

  Xavier was an animal, not a human. Avery didn’t look; he closed his eyes then. He didn’t want to see—but Xavier forced them open.

  All those years, Avery couldn’t forgive himself for being so stupidly overpowered. Xavier wasn’t much older or stronger.

  And yet.

  Avery was unable to unsee what he saw, unhear what he heard, or stop remembering what Xavier was doing to him then.

  Disgusting.

  Memories fell into his head.

  Ten years of struggle. He couldn’t get rid of these thoughts with peaceful meditation, so he decided that this time he would look for a solution elsewhere.

  Avery was maxed out, intoxicated. Since when? Two days? Three days?

  … He fell asleep in the bathtub.

  It was the sounds that woke him up.

  Someone was saying… but what? Was it another language? Another language, how was it possible? There was no other… Avery understood that his brain was dreaming and relaxed.

  The water was cold, but it didn’t bother him. His eyes were still closed.

  Then something touched him—a hand.

  Shit?

  Avery opened his eyes and tried to see what was going on, but his vision was blurry. He blinked a few times, and it was better. After even more blinks, he saw it—there was someone who was pulling him out of the bathtub; this someone was gentle, but strong.

  Shit!

  Avery struck. He would not let anyone touch him; he tried to push that person away. His vision came back; he wanted to see who or what—then he felt energy.

  This someone was healing him. Avery felt a fresh, calming stream.

  How? What?

  He looked to the side—there was a face beside him. This person was looking at him and healing him—his hangover, his pain.

  But. Who?

  A face—was it a woman? Pretty. No! It was a man. He looked like—in his house? What happened? He went out alone; he came back alone. A man in his house? Never!

  Avery’s brain started shouting, and his mouth screamed what his brain was providing.

  “Don’t touch me, you shit! Go out! Disgusting, out!”

  Then Avery recognized the face.

  “It’s politics; I saw you, shit, you are connected to the leader; I saw you two, pretending! Who are you? Are you spying on Luna? You were there—”

  Avery was angry; he tried to go out and punch the man.

  He had seen him at the wedding. It had to be something political, Avery could recall. But what did they want? He stumbled out of the bathtub, looked at himself, and gasped with rage.

  He was undressed.

  “Go out, go out, out!”

  His head aching, he felt enormous contempt.

  He was furious.

  The man tried to touch him again. Avery struck blindly; his instincts were good, and he was certain he could harm him.

  This man, he dodged the second time too. He was trained!

  It was politics, shit.

  Avery tried to kick him again, but then he got hit in the nose. He heard some words, which the person said in a language he could now understand—a note? A song?

  Shit, what was that?

  … And what had he been given? Was it a towel?

  Then Avery felt the touch again.

  “Don’t touch me! I despise you, shitlov—” He didn’t finish.

  … Avery woke up.

  Where was he?

  He lay in his bed, covered with blankets.

  What he recalled was that he was hit with energy; he was falling to the ground, and then he was caught. He still felt the touch.

  Then nothing.

  He was alone; he couldn’t hear any other breaths nearby.

  Avery opened his eyes.

  Nothing was strange. His place was not robbed.

  It had to be political. But. He was not imprisoned. He was in his own bed. Healed properly, he could feel.

  He looked to the right at the small table he had there. There was water in a glass. And a bottle of what? Honey.

  His messenger was next to it.

  Avery reached it and checked. Many messages, some from work, more from Luna.

  The last one from her explained it all.

  …

  R: [172-12-13 11.44 p.m. PF, ‘Avery, my friend said you were at home, sick; he said he healed you and tried to help you; he said he apologizes if he bothered you too much, Avery? Let me know?’]

  …

  Something was not right.

  This man was suspicious. Luna called him her friend. She never mentioned she had one before. Strange.

  Avery decided to ask when they met face-to-face. Better to be careful. If this man was spying on Luna, if he was pretending to be her friend, then it was better to remain calm about it and act wisely.

  …

  R: [172-12-14 02.21 p.m. PF, ‘Thank you, Luna, I am fine’]