CHAPTER 298

Louis Bianchi had been proud, once.

A man who, like him or hate him, a year ago, had been capable of capturing a room's attention. The way he'd carried himself, back straight and chin high, the fancy clothing, each article more expensive than a month's rent, the well-groomed hair, golden like the sun, and the boisterous voice that had a magnetic property about it. The way pride coiled around his very being until he had embodied the concept to the point of becoming blind to all of his faults and what people truly thought about him.

Once.

Once, he had been that.

It was easy to forget, with how gently Louis behaved himself, these days, but he had learned to be prepared to deal with high-stakes situations after he had frozen multiple times in the face of danger in Eterna Forest. That land of death had sharpened him, taught him to keep his wits about him no matter what the situation may be. It had begun with Cecilia's escape into Mount Coronet. The girl he loved, desperate to die a glorious death of joyous battle in the midst of the most dangerous place in the region. Fresh off learning that their entire relationship had been a lie, he had put his head down and spearheaded the organization of her rescue. Cracks had, however, already formed, and would widen as the months passed. A silent killer of his character, turning him more and more subdued. Still, in Solaceon, despite the way his hands had trembled, the way he had pictured the thousands of way the situation might go wrong, he had joined us to investigate and used his money to get us the information we needed to crack that case, a mere two weeks after his father had been imprisoned for a lifetime.

And it was there, that Justin was taken by Shiftry's darkness.

How many times could a man be beaten, for him to rise again and again? I did not have the answer, but the mere thought of it had me choked up as I stepped into Louis' room. Old enemy, he was. A rival in love, back when we'd both been children in the figurative sense and when there had only been that to worry about.

That was who Louis was. A person beaten within an inch of death who could no longer get up. His hair was disheveled, messy and with very visible knots dotting its entire surface as he stared out the window. I could only see the scar on his cheek he'd gotten in Mount Coronet, his skin so pale he gave Justin a run for his money. Ninetales sat by his side, and while she did not look at me directly, I felt warmth slither from my ankles and up my skin like bugs crawling all over me, and I knew I had her attention. Her tails went from lying across to floor— two of them gently rubbing Louis' back— to rising, undulating as one in an almost hypnotic motion. Behind me, Denzel closed the door, knowing that I'd wanted to be alone just for the reunion, at least, with Justin behind him.

"Louis?"

Pride was now fully stamped out, having been replaced by misery. He turned my way, but slowly, as if his bones were old and weary. His fingers gripped the windowsill and the wind blew the thick, white curtains towards the room. With eyes like death, Louis looked at me, bags under them so deep they gave his skin a blue-dark tint even though he spent much of his days sleeping. His chin and cheeks were covered in unkept blond stubble. Louis gave me a smile, forced and sad, the kind of smile you gave to people before delivering bad news. Not knowing what to do, I returned it and briskly paced across the room until I gripped his wrist and knelt by his side of the bed.

"I'm sorry," I said. "For everything."

He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again as he brushed a bang out of his eyes' way. "I did not ask for any of it," he said, bitterness in his tone. He'd been prepared for a speech, I realize. A spiel where he'd rebuke me and the others for giving him all of this weight. "What's done is… done. It's good to see you, Grace. I hope you've been doing better. Oh, and here's Ninetales." He pointed at her, but she rebuked me, not even looking my way. "I don't think she'll be talking to you. Or any of the others, for that matter, but especially not Emilia," Louis finished with a wry smile.

One did not have to be an empath to see that he despised her for this. For what she had thrown onto his lap with no care or plan. I respected that, just as I respected Louis as a whole.

"That's alright," I nodded. "Have you eaten this morning?"

"Denzel made sure of that, as did Ninetales. She was practically force-feeding me and shoving the food in my mouth with Extrasensory," he said. The tone was— the tone was calm, but there was no missing the constant bounce of his leg and the way his eyes darted everywhere in the room, like he was expecting an attack to come. "I didn't puke it all up this time."

"Well, that's… uh, yeah, that's great."

My friend turned back toward the city. His room did not face the Gym, and since he was on the fourth floor, he had a decent view of the city. They were mostly family homes— huh, I'd nearly forgotten that Lauren came from here. Looking at all the houses covering the horizon had me think back about her, for whatever reason. Louis and I stayed silent for a few moments, and I ignored Ninetales staring daggers at me. Strange, that. From what I knew about their relationship, the fire type had been one to push Louis forward and out of his newfound… mellowness. Maybe even she had limits to what her trainer was subjected to.

"I've had these nightmares," Louis said with a quivering voice. "Calling them nightmares is odd, all things considered. They feel much more real than that."

My hand squeezed his, though not hard enough to hurt myself. "You can tell me."

"You can't see Mount Coronet from here, but I see it in my dreams," he whispered, as if he was scared to utter the words. "I start at the foot of the mountain, always at the foot, and I'm alone with no Pokemon or friends by my side. My legs feel like lead and I can't move a muscle, and eventually, something shatters at the summit." His throat tightened at the words, and he coughed into a fist. "It breaks open, and then the world," he snapped his fingers, "disappears. There's nothing, not even me, and I wake up falling in the dark until I wake up screaming."

"Arceus…"

"You have no idea how hard it is," he spoke through clenched teeth. "to hear the world shatter like glass."

I wanted to tell him it was only a dream, and that we had no idea how it would end, exactly, if it did. If it would be a rip, a shattering, or silent. Yet something told me those words would be useless, at the moment.

"Still, I sleep. It makes the day bearable, at the very least."

"Louis, listen, I— we were thinking of going out today, the four of us." I felt his arm tug away from me, and I let it go. "I know this might not be any help, but I think some fresh air could do you some good. And hey, the way I go about it is this: yes, the world's in danger, but we've got the best of the best on the case, right?"

There was simply no putting the Meowth back in the bag, so this was the next best way I had of dealing with this. The thought of Louis spending the rest of the time we had left depressed in his room sickened me.

"Mira said there were futures where they won," Louis said.

"There are."

"Then how—" he stopped, taking a deep breath. "I've had this thought on my mind, ever since I learned about these powers." Knowing where this was going, I instantly grimaced, but Louis didn't stop. "Could you take some of it away? The crippling anxiety?" He gripped his shirt around his chest. "You could make it easier to bear."

"Louis, I can't—"

He did not scream, but he did raise his tone. "I'm not asking you to take all of it. Just to smooth things over. Please. I can't go on like this." I was silent. This was the last thing I'd expected, and— "You offered the same thing to Justin. He told me earlier this morning. Is it so different if I ask?"

"Justin's case is different," I forced out. "He's been turned into a different person."

Pain flickered in his eyes, raw and piercing. "Does it matter? Don't you need practice with it, regardless? What I'm asking of you is so much smaller than that, and it can give you the experience you need. I want you to help him, Grace, I want that more than anything, but with this, you help everyone."

I gulped. "Can I think about it?"

Ninetales huffed, her head still held high while Louis rose from his bed with a tired groan, the morning sun shining down his half-closed eyes. "I'll come with you three, but please. Just… do this thing for me."

It was different now that the option of practicing with these was now in front of me. I'd done so much to stem the use of these powers that the fact that they could go on to be used on someone other than Justin or someone who was trying to kill me hardly crossed my mind, these days. What if I messed up and didn't know how to put him back together? It was a rather simple operation that I believed I'd be capable of, but fear of failure was known to give trembling fingers, and they needed to be steady to do what he asked of me.

What he asked of me…

There was also the fear of something else.

My body felt like it had gone through a workout when we left his room, having been sapped of all its energy. Denzel beamed when he saw I'd finally gotten him out of there, and even Justin cracked a weary smile, patting his best friend on the shoulder. They spoke some during the walk downstairs, though the conversation was mostly carried by Denzel. Louis and Justin were both quiet unless directly addressed. It was strange to see the former go out without a care for his messy appearance, but at least he was out. The plan was to spend the morning in the Canalave Library now that all of our therapy was done and it was past nine in the morning, though Justin had no therapist and Louis just apparently stayed quiet most of his session. I did not miss the stares bearing through the back of my head he offered me. I was his ray of hope, his lifeline, I alone held the cards to get him better unless he was content with Mira erasing his memory, which would… obviously be worse than what he'd asked me.

Denzel walked with Sylvi at his side, his ribbons brushing against his trainer's legs, and his Roserade whose glare could poison you if she stared for too long. A few people stopped him for an autograph, something he always denied. Louis had his Ninetales, who no doubt whispered constant reassurances into his mind while Justin was Pokemonless. I, meanwhile, had Claydol hovering by me along with Mimi, as always. Canalave was a little easier to handle for the ground type, which would do wonders for our training later today at one of the arenas I'd spotted near the Pokemon Center. The city was more spread out than Jubilife was. Less dense. Still, people looked up at them and Ninetales in awe.

Really, I just wanted to spend more time with them and they'd be able to put up a quick barrier around all of us in a pinch. Since Claydol was no empath, we could not communicate in secret by just having them read what was going on in my head, and maybe it was because of both Louis' demand and my suggestion to Justin, but I had ideas swirling in my head of how to make better use of my gift in a pinch. Could I, for example, communicate silently by threading what I wanted into Claydol's head as a passing emotion, and not a lingering one? Back when I'd first entered Sandgem and been completely overwhelmed by these new senses, I'd felt emotions that weren't mine. Did that mean that while I could not change my emotions, I could overwhelm mine to make myself feel something else?

Questions. There were so many of them without an answer, and that void— that gap in my knowledge as we made it closer and closer to the Red Chain might come back to bite me. My head subconsciously turned to Louis, who avoided my eyes.

On one hand, he had given me his consent. There were no wrongs to this, morally, or at least I wanted to tell myself that. What he'd asked of me had been simple enough to do with a relative amount of focus. On the other, what if this was the start of an addiction? Of him asking me again and again, to help him deal with negative feelings? I had no idea what would happen next week, and maybe it'd get worse— no, going down that train of thought made my heartbeat hurt. Beating against my ribcage like drums, shaking it violently.

And when it was all over, that'd be that. The relief Louis would feel would be immense, so all he needed to do was bear with it for another week and a half— possibly more, but his current state of affairs was temporary. It had a tangible cause, and once that cause was removed, everything would go back to normal for him so long as…

Everyone would make it out in one piece. They had to, or—

Claydol chimed next to me. It seems you are undergoing distress. How may I be of service to alleviate your concerns?

Soothing. Their voice was soothing against my mind and acted like a cold splash of water at the same time.

"I'll tell you later, thank you, Claydol."

Acknowledged.

The Canalave library was more impressive from up close. While it was blocky, almost to a fault, rising five floors above ground with two wings sprouting from its side and wrapping around the courtyard, the designers had not let that stop them from making the building pretty. Tables and chairs were thoughtfully placed outside, creating a cozy space for people and Pokémon to enjoy books under the warmth of the sunlight or seek shade beneath parasols. Thick vines grew at the bottom of the turquoise bricks, neatly clinging to the structure. There were many windows adorning the side of the building, the same intricate glasswork that I knew sat on the roof. A simple staircase took us up a deck and toward the old, rustic doors. They were grand, with intricate carvings wrought onto the steel and wide enough to let in all of our Pokemon.

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Louis did not perk up at any of it.

"Welcome to the Canalave Library!" A man looking to be in his twenties said with a bright smile. A smile that fell when he saw how three out of four of us looked. He sat at a desk adjacent to the entrance and had a nametag on his chest spelling out 'Christopher'. "Um… are you in possession of a library card?"

"None of us are, no," Denzel answered.

"Ah. Is this your first time in the library?" the employee asked. "Cards are completely free and can help you get borrowing privileges, access to computers and the internet…"

This was administrative busywork, so I let Christopher's voice sink into the background and observed the library itself. The building smelled like aged paper and polished wood, and the extensive second floor stretched with towering wooden shelves stretching high toward the ceiling. Soft sunlight filtered through large windows, casting a warm glow on reading nooks and study tables strategically placed throughout the library. The air was permeated with the muffled rustle of turning pages and the occasional murmur of hushed conversations. I felt a little self-conscious that the librarian at the entrance and Denzel were speaking at a normal, albeit somewhat quiet volume. Honestly, thank God he was here to handle all of this.

We ended up registering for a library card by filling a form, save for Louis, who didn't even have the energy to write. He'd basically limped over here and was already exhausted, so hopefully sitting in a quiet space like this would do him some good. After verifying our identities with our trainer IDs, we got a card and were ushered into the building.

"Did you know that this place was built before Byron's time?" Justin whispered to Louis. "When Mikhal Rose was Gym leader?"

"Yes," he responded.

"Oh. Ordinarily, you would have started speaking about it, but I suppose you can't."

"Let's let Louis breathe a little, okay Justin?" Denzel said. "Here, let's find someplace to sit—"

"Shhhh!"

"Shit, sorry—"

He'd been shushed by a pair of teenagers reading a book about… well, I only got a glance, but it looked to be about water type Pokemon biology. When I pictured the library, I hadn't really thought the inside would be so homely. Instead of uncomfortable wooden chairs, there were couches ready to accommodate us, even on the first floor. Not wanting to go too far due to Louis, Denzel let us sit and asked if there were any particular books we wanted, and he'd go get them. Using that as an excuse, I decided to go with him to stop Louis from staring at me with that desperate look that was twisting my heart with guilt. As soon as we were out of earshot and browsing the aisles for Justin's book on Canalavian architecture (I was pretty sure he'd only picked that for Louis), Denzel spoke up.

"Okay, so are you going to tell me what's going on? Louis has been staring at you all morning. I mean, I'm glad you got him out, but what did you tell him in there?" he murmured.

I groaned, understanding how annoying I must be every time I'd done the same thing to him. Perceiving things and then bringing them up. "Just a second."

Before answering, I released Jellicent, who I'd promised I would let in the library yesterday night when plans had been made to come here. For a moment, he was a kid again, or at least what I imagined kid Buddy might have been like. His eyes shone with endless wonder and his body wriggled in excitement. He'd just been about to rush and explore the entire place until Claydol warned him through telepathy that Pokemon were not allowed to be without their 'owners' in the establishment. He was right, but owner was a yucky word, ugh.

"Sorry you don't have Extrasensory yet, I promise I'll buy it for you by the end of the day, and we can come back at least once before the Gym Battle," I said, dipping my head slightly. "Deal?"

He grumbled, saying that at least he would have some practice in. Knowing him, he'd have the move down in twenty minutes if it was to do something he loved, like reading. He continued, asking me to grab him a publication on Canalavian and Iron Islander history.

A book about 'what love is' would be appreciated, my King.

"Coming right up," I whispered back, spinning to situate myself. We were in the history aisle right now, and that sounded like philosophy, which was on the… third floor. "Maybe it'll help you, but don't just regurgitate what the book says, okay?"

"Are you gonna keep ignoring me, or…?" Denzel asked, his arms crossed protectively over Justin's book.

"Louis wants me to take away parts of his anxiety," I sighed. To any other bystanders, the statement was innocent enough, but Denzel froze for a split-second. "Yes, like that. And I'm stumped. That's it."

"Shit…"

"You said it. There are pros and cons to this, but I don't know what decision to make and Louis is basically begging— ah." I found a book akin to what Buddy was looking for, though I wasn't sure it covered the period he wanted. This one was only about the two civilizations before the conquest of the Iron Islands. "I don't want him to get addicted to me."

"Can't you take just that away? Addiction?"

I shivered, but kept whispering, "Emotions aren't that simple, Denzel. I can't just take away addiction, I have to tamper and tinker with a ton of other stuff, or maybe reframe the problem entirely? Addiction's one of the more complicated ones." It was a good thing we were already walking, or I'd be pacing around. "Even what he's asking is tough. Simpler, but still tough."

"I… I mean, it's your call, but he asked, didn't he?"

"If someone asked you to punch them in the gut, would you do it?" I called out.

"No, but that's not at all the same—" he stopped, having raised his tone. Back in a whisper, now, Denzel continued, "It's not at all the same thing. You'd be helping him."

"...I know."

"Then why?"

I turned away, scuttling toward the elevators with Buddy and Claydol behind me.

"Look, if you don't want to talk about it, fine," Denzel sighed. "Can we stop by the second floor? The fashion section is there and I wanna stop by. See if I can get some inspiration for some new merch."

I relaxed, my body loosening slightly. "You just want to look at cute clothes."

"Well, that too," he shrugged. "It's real interesting, though, seeing what clothes make people tick and working to design them and stuff like that. Pauline's really into it too."

That was a given, with her family business.

"You excited for tomorrow?" I asked. The elevator dinged, and we squeezed into it, though I recalled my Pokemon and said I'd release them when the books were ready.

"Nervous."

"Eh, nervous is kind of adjacent to excited, when you look at the two."

It took a while to find all the books we needed, and I ended up settling on a textbook from Unova that I was pretty sure was one of the ones they used in civics class to explain how their government worked. I wasn't expecting to do much reading anyway, but it was just something to keep myself busy and not get there completely blind. The future was something I had to think about. From the future came hope, and hope was what I was running on, at the moment. I found Claydol's book, too, and ended up getting a picture book for Princess. Honey already had his comics he still hadn't finished due to his injury, so he was good on that front.

I placed myself back on the couch, and we all got reading.

Except for Louis. Justin read to him in that monotone voice of his, and I was reminded of Claydol for a moment. The ground type was simultaneously holding onto his book and levitating Buddy's, turning the page at each soft click.

It wasn't much, but it was a break, and we and our Pokemon found ourselves chatting together and even Louis joined in, by the end of it.

That was good for him, but not ideal for the decision I needed to make. He could get out of this without my help, and I knew it. He needed support, both from his therapist and from us.

It was possible.

It was.

So I was putting my foot down. I was.

"Let's get lunch," Denzel smiled. "Wanna go to that place you guys went at yesterday night?"

—

The state I left the arena in by the end of training had me feeling bad for the poor employees and their Pokemon who had to fix it afterward. It could barely be called an arena, anyway. I'd gone to one of those fancy ones where you could book a slot to use for a set amount of time and paid enough to have a few hours. I'd ended up releasing my entire team in the middle of that very nice-looking forest with a meandering river (except Honey, who was still recovering from his injury) and turned it to ash and mud. And that had only been the first one. The second, I'd gotten only for thirty minutes and experimented changing the terrain on, making sure my plan for Angel was sound.

It was. Now we just had to execute it while someone was trying to defeat us on the opposite side of the field.

It was evening, now. My mind was still racked by indecision. I'd changed it at least five times, during training, instead of being completely focused like I'd needed to when giving my team directions or watching Byron's videos. I was close to having memorized everything I needed to, so there was no risk of lagging behind. The day after tomorrow, I would sign up, and since this was the eighth, I'd probably be fighting Byron in another day or two. Not the full week Cece had told me to take so my team could be fully healed by the Red Chain, but six days was basically that and it was only a buffer anyway. I doubted any spines were going to be broken like it had against Volkner. It would be horribly irresponsible from Byron to do so.

But these were just idle thoughts. Thoughts to keep me distracted from the decision I'd come to make. One I hoped I wouldn't regret. My knuckles rasped against Louis' door so quietly I might as well have been a ghost. The door unlocked, and instead of Louis waiting at the door, it was Ninetales. She nudged me inside with her snout and closed it quickly. Louis was standing, now. Facing the window, as always, but standing. Staring in Mount Coronet's direction, even though the mountain was not visible. The cause of his haunting visions that he was growing obsessed with.

"I'll help you," I declared, teeth sinking into my tongue a moment later, but it was too late to stop myself from talking. No walking it back now.

There was a gasp, or maybe a sigh of surprise and relief as he turned my way. "Thank you. What do I— do I just sit down?"

"Doesn't matter, just let me concentrate, okay?" My throat was dry despite having finished a water bottle twenty minutes ago. Fingers trembling in anticipation, I turned the desk chair his way and sat facing him. "Are you sure? There's no going back on this. I'm not experienced enough for that."

"Yes."

"And to reiterate, I'm only taking parts of your problem away. You still need to deal with it on your own, I'm only giving you a little boost."

"I understand. It was what I believed would be right anyway," he nodded.

I paused, and the same question left my lips. "Are you sure?"

Again, he agreed without an ounce of doubt.

Okay.

Anxiety unfolded before me like a turbulent storm painted in shades of deep indigo and stormy grays. The air was heavy with the weight of uncertainty, and the colors swirled and danced, creating a disconcerting mix of unease. The indigo threads pulsated with the heartbeat of stress, while the stormy grays cast shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly across the room, roiling over the bed, desk, and out of the window. It was a tapestry woven with blotches of worry, fear, and apprehension, each hue a manifestation of the emotional turbulence within. They were closely mixed together, not easily separated with a bare needle, but it was what I had to work with, and I felt my lips creep upward. I pierced where the negative emotions met with a flicker of my fingers and got to work.

The first stage was untangling this mess and putting it into neat little boxes of color, but I couldn't be too liberal with the cuts, or Louis would break. It was fine work, though I noticed him squirm a little, a motion that excited me some when it shouldn't have. Operating on him was creating even more anxiety and fear I needed to contain, but that was okay. I was good at this, and I made sure to not get second-hand anxiety through Louis' own. The indigo was deep enough for a grown man to sink in, but it was the other colors that gave me issues. The stormy grays resisted, entangled in a complex weave that reflected the intricacies of his fears. I cut, cut, cut, snipping until indigo and grays had been neatly divided and isolated from the rest of Louis' mind scape. How fun, to tinker with someone like this. How liberating. Mesprit shared my giggling as I reached the next step. Cutting when your only implement was a mental needle was tough, but there was something fulfilling about the droning motion of my fingers.

To kill an emotion, one had to either smother it with something else or put it in someone else. What I'd done with Mathilda had been redirecting her love for her old trainer towards me, but it had been too shallow and I'd made it akin to a crush. Redirecting anxiety, while a fun experiment, would not fix the issue. Seeing as I said I would only be helping, I needed to go with option one. Smother it, but not enough to completely kill it, because that was important. Remembering the limits of what I'd set out to do. Unsatisfying, ungratifying, disheartening, frustrating. I wanted to play with him, but no. The consequences would be disastrous.

Calm. It was a crude way of going about things, but I needed calm and joy, and Louis had very little to work with and no potential to draw out more. Damn it! Ugh, unless I was willing to steal some from other people, then I was going to need to cut again. That was fine, cutting was fun even if doing it with a needle took time, but recovery would be less smooth. It wouldn't be seamless from Louis' perspective, at least, and he'd be high off operation for a while, but maybe that was fine. Still, I sent the needle deep within Louis psyche, finding warmer colors. The potential for it was there, I only needed to push and prod until it stopped hiding from me. The indigo softened into hues of cerulean, and the stormy grays yielded to gentle wisps of silver. Not enough. Not enough. Never enough. There was a rip, and I realized I'd cut more of it than I wanted. Oops! Well, better cut the same amount for the indigo, or there would be an imbalance and that'd be awful and possibly make things even worse than they were at the beginning.

Well, we were almost done now. I stitched the indigo and grays back together into anxiety. It was neat, almost too neat. Things might be a little bit more entertaining broken, but that was okay. Not now, maybe, but later, on someone else… gah, that'd go against the stupid rules. Whatever, better enjoy this while it lasted. Stitch, stitch, stitch, I weaved my needle and carefully mixed the two together before inserting it all back into Louis with a flick of my finger, who groaned like he was dying and doubled over. It was easy, now. Lighter, far lighter, both in weight and tone. It was over—

I gasped, sweat boring down my forehead and heavy breaths wracking my lungs. My hands clasped around the chair, keeping myself still. Louis was pale, but he was grinning. The sky was dark outside and the moon was out, somehow. I grabbed my phone with trembling hands, trying not to linger on the way I'd been thinking to myself during the entire process and realized I'd still been smiling.

An hour and a half had passed in what had felt like five minutes for me.

"I feel so much better than I thought I would," Louis gasped. He'd talked while I'd worked on him, but I hadn't paid attention. "I mean, in a way I feel worse because the feeling of my chest being crushed is back, but it's so much lighter I can actually breathe." He rose from his chair, running up to me before he clasped my shoulders. "I can actually function. Thank you, Grace."

"I think I cut more than what was planned—"

"You're fine," he reassured me. "Everything is fine. I'm still— I'm still terrified," there was a nervous laugh. "But I'm better. I can deal with it on my own. I can keep going."

I could only muster a nod. What else to say, to the way he was smiling so brightly? The way he moved being so full of life and vigor? The will to live and try, returned to his face? Could I tell him that this was wrong? That I regretted this now, and that I'd rather he still be depressed?

Things were better off this way. They were.

But the reason I hadn't answered Denzel in the library about why? Why not do it, when he'd asked me to? It was because I knew I'd like it. Enjoy it in a sickening way that I would only make sense of after leaving my daze. The thoughts I'd had about him? He was my friend, for Arceus' sake! And even for an enemy, my head shouldn't function like this.

I didn't think I would ever do this again save for Justin. One did not give a cigarette to an addict, and I already knew that was what it was, and having discovered the wonders of empathy terrified me. Aliyah could not come soon enough tomorrow.

There was an itch waiting to be scratched. The deep desire to alter and twist in my image.

Justin could be next. The last.

I contained a smile.