#brain tried to give me a scary dream but the delusions took over sorry

[meownotgood]

dreamt that aki protected me........ hhh

[watercolourferns]

AsraxMCFanfic for those who suffer from intrusive thoughts and paranoid delusions.

I’m turbo paranoid right now, I’m also on the verge of tears and my intrusive thoughts are out of control. This happens when I get extra stressed out, which I’ve been almost everyday for the last week... So I thought maybe I could write some fluff of an Mc going through the same things. This Mc’s name is Malakie, and he’s Asra’s LI in his route. Malakie’s name sounds kinda badass but he’s really just a tiny ball of anxiety, suffers from BPD, OCD, PTSD, and EDNOS, and his thoughts can get pretty intrusive. He’s my mental illnesses and the struggle I have to go through because of them. I still haven’t drawn him, but I will soon, I promise. He’s nonbinary, going by he/him, he’s 20, Portia-short, and strong-willed but not stubborn, he just doesn’t stop fighting.  So here it is, the fanfic. You can exchange Malakies’ name for your Mc’s if you want. Intruders in the mind. AsraxMalakie(Mc)|hurtcomfort|trigger warnings: descriptions of paranoid delusions, intrusive thoughts, eating disorders, and OCD.

Malakie woke up with a small start and sat up violently on the bed, hugging the bed sheet to his chest. His breathing was ridiculously fast and it was making him dizzy, but he couldn’t stop; he was cold sweating and his limbs felt tingly, as if they were going numb, which only made him panic more. Suddenly he got the urge to get up and check every window and door, see if they were locked tight against the deep night reigning outside. He was well aware nobody would dare enter the shop unannounced, except maybe Jules, but it had been months since his last visit... probably because of Zayn and his strict rule of being home at 11 tops... Malakie’s lips broke into a small smile, giving him a bit of a breather amidst the panic that was overriding his brain. But then the fear flooded him again and he sighed, sliding his feet down from the mattress, yet before he could touch the cold tile floor an arm wrapped around his waist and gently pulled him back to bed, making him lay down again. This time he did shout, but then an airy voice whispered in the dark: “It’s ok, Mal, it’s ok. It’s just me...” Malakie gasped and shook his head, horrified. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up! I-I just...” he started in a squeaky voice, feeling overwhelmingly guilty.  “-were having a nightmare... I said it’s ok, Mal,” Asra whispered, gently pushing a few strands of purple hair from Malakie’s yellow eyes and behind his ears. “I don’t mind if you wake me up, I promise, love. Here, let’s hug and go back to sleep, ok?” The young man looked at Asra, at his violet eyes, and his fluffy white hair and his heart leaped, wanting nothing but to melt into his arms, feeling safe again. But he couldn’t. He didn’t like being touched when he was feeling like this, he would shy away from Asra whenever the paranoia hit. He felt like a monster for it, but he just couldn’t bare being touched. Shaking his head sheepishly he sat up again and scooted away from the white haired magician. Then he swung his feet down and placed them cautiously on the tiled floor... what if something grabbed him from under the bed?? The purple haired youngster shuddered and almost pulled his feet back up, but then he tried to take control back and forced himself to stand up fully. It was awful, all these thoughts swirling through his head, intermingled with memories and ideas... He just couldn’t stop for a second, could he? How stupi- No! He took his head in his hands and shook it violently, gritting his teeth. Alright, everything will be alright. Now walk to the window behind the bed and check it... One... two... three... four... Ok, the lock is secure... Now walk to the door and check if it’s locked, as you left it- wait, what was that?! Malakie froze midway to the door, seeing something move out of the corner of his eye, but when ventured a look he saw it was only Faust, slithering on the bed towards him, looking worried. “Sad?” she said. Malakie smiled and caressed her sweetly, shaking his head. “Scared...” he whispered. Then motioned for her to stay there and walked to the door. As these things were happening Asra had sat up on the bed and was looking at the youngster move about as if he was alone in the room, a sad frown on his full lips. It hurt him see his beloved like this, and not able to do much due to Malakie’s rejection of his touch or nearness. He had tried to find a potion, a spell, even spoke to Julian about it, but there was simply nothing more that he could save for all else he already did. He asked Julian for strong relaxing tinctures and made some of his own, he found the best Jasmine and Passionflower teas with which to sooth Mal’s mind and body at least for a bit; he would wake up a soon as Mal did and was always paying him attention, trying to curve an anxiety or panic attack before it went full blown... Sometimes it was hard on him and his own nerves, but he would always think about how much worse it was for Malakie, both because his mind betrayed him whenever it could but also because he knew the youngster felt guilty because he thought he was a burden... He wanted nothing more than to reach into his brain and somehow extract all those mean and scary thoughts from his head. But since that was impossible, he resolved to just be there for him and support him as much as he could. As Malakie finished with the room’s door, opened it, and cautiously walked out, Asra stood up from the bed and followed with the lamp, reassuring Faust that everything was fine and that she should go back to sleep. He caught up to Malakie and offered the lamp. “I can accompany you, so you’re not alone. I know you want to check every lock and it’s alright. Just... let me be with you,” Asra said softly, reaching to caress the purple tresses again, but stopping mid motion and just letting his arm fall back gently to his side. “Hm? Oh... a-alright...” said Malakie, his eyes darting a bit, looking like a deer’s scared eyes when it spots a hunter. “Thank you...” he added sheepishly, taking the lamp and offering a weird smile, half here, half somewhere else in the realm his thoughts went to. Asra knew that smile very well: the poor kid was dissociated, and no wonder... It always happened when he had a nightmare. Asra smiled reassuringly back and motioned so he could lead the way. Malakie started to walk to the window of the landing, checked it four times again. But the wood looked old... what if-? The purpled haired apprentice shook his head, rubbed his yellow eyes with one hand and continued walking. Twenty minutes later most of the locks were checked, and by then Malakie was exhausted, but his mind was pushing him to do more, to check again, to go to the front door, open, close it, open, close it, check the lock, open, close it, check the lock... He reached the bottom floor and Asra grabbed a small bundle of dried leaves and flowers from a small drawer in the cabinet.  “I’ll go to the kitchen, alright? I’m just there, shout if you need me, I promise to come right away,” he said, smiling again. “S-Sure...” Malakie answered absent mindedly, trying to to focus his gaze on a shadow, trying to figure out what it was, turning out it was the pestle he had left on the counter earlier.  Asra padded barefooted towards the kitchen when he heard a crash and someone sobbing. He flew back towards the front of the shop and found Malakie has fallen over a misplaced stool in his haste to go to the front door and had landed on the stone floor, the lamp out and shattered in front of him. He had knelt next to the fragments and started to cry into his hand, obviously trying to muffle it. “No! Don’t touch me!! I’m covered in oil!” he sobbed, terrified, trying to scoot away from Asra as well, going almost into the glass shards. Asra quickly took him in his arms, ignoring the protests, to prevent him from getting more hurt. Taking Malakie to the back of the store, he sat the kid on a stool and checked him over, finding a small scrape on his knee and on his palm, but thankfully nothing more. “Stay here,” he said sternly and went for a rag and water. Malakie nodded, still sobbing, but not really feeling himself sob. He was out of it, feeling as if walking through foggy cotton, unable to see clearly. When Asra came back and knelt in front of him, he finally extended his hand and grabbed his hair gently. The white-haired young man stood still, but smiled up  at Malakie, nodding. “Yes, I’m real... and so are you...” he said, placing the wet rag gently on his knee. The yellow eyes whinced and the pale lips let out a soft hiss of pain. “See? You’re real, you’re here, we’re at the shop. Can you see it?” Asra asked, cleaning the kid up and bandaging him with fresh, clean bandages. As he was done with his hand the young man looked at Malakie and placed a soft kiss on the palm the of his. The youngster didn’t flinch or pull the hand back, a good sign! He helped Malakie up on his feet, careful with his knee, and pulled him slowly towards him.  The youngster didn’t put up any resistence, walking as if in automatic towards the welcoming arms of his former master. Slowly the fog gave way to the beautiful violet eyes he adored so much, then the whole face, with the teasing full lips, right now streched in a soft, warm smile, then the fluffy hair again, then the strong arms and then gentle hands... Malakie tripped with his own feet and landed on Asra’s arms, feeling like in a perpetual dream. Thoughts of him being a burden, of him bothering Asra, of him being useless were circling his head, and he couldn’t do anything else but cry again. He didn’t want to let Asra touch him, but he needed a hug so much... He just felt... intrusive in the magician’s personal space. This... thing... he was, this weird monster that couldn’t control his mind... Abruptly he wanted to pace the room, check stuff again, he wanted to tell Asra to nail boards on the door so nobody could get in, that someone was looking for him, ready to hurt him... But the kid was just too exhausted, it had been a rough week, he had had very little sleep, he had been restricting his diet again... And this the culmination of all his demons coming together. Crying loudly, sobbing into Asra’s chest, Malakie finally hugged his beloved magician, scratching him unintentionally in his haste of not letting go. He sobbed apologies, he sobbed petitions of “please never leave me, please!!! I promise I’ll be good!! Please!!”, he held fast onto Asra, trying not to bother him, but at the same time trying not to let go.  Asra heard him, kissed his head and patted his back gently, rocking from side to side and caressing his arms to try and sooth him. Slowly he guided the crying mess of a youngster towards the kitchen, reassuring him that he won’t leave, ever. “Let’s come in here, love, there you go. That’s a good boy. Now sit down here, on this stool, yes, you’re doing great Mal! Alright, now, let me grab the teapot from this shelf. See? I’m still here, you just need to breath in with your nose and out with your mouth. There you go, see? You’re doing very good... This is Jasmine tea, the flowering kind, would you like it? I’ll use your favourite mug if you want me to,” he was saying, pulling a teapot, filling it with water and giving Malakie his favourite purle and gold tea mug with the white interior, plopping the tea bundle inside. He was used to speaking to him in that way, as if he was a small child. Not because he thought the youngster beneath him, but first because he had to reteach him everything from speaking to walking to eating, but also because it seemed to put Malakie at ease: simple orders were easier to follow for him, and the praise made him feel better, or so Asra hoped.  “Put it carefully on the table, good! How, peer in, watch what happens,” he added, smiling reassuringly as he poured the now boiling water into the mug. Malakie peered inside and saw how the bundle started to bloom into a small white flower, an equally small smile breaking into his lips. Asra smiled too and carefully took the mug and then Malakie by the hand. “C’mon, let’s go back to the room, alright? Faust is waiting and I bet she will love the smell of the tea, Mal...” The youngster let Asra guide him back, clinging strongly to his hand as he walked in a daze behind him. It was awful, forgetting what was real, and what wasn’t, those voices in his head telling him awful things not shutting up... but the same time it was alright, because Asra was there. Twice or thrice the had stopped dead in his tracks, banging his head with his free hand, but Asra’s voice brought him back to his senses and he’d stopped, following the magician again. Finally they made their way up the stairs, into the bedroom, where Faust was curled up in between the pillows. Asra let go of Malakies’ hand and let him lock the door one, two... just to two times. Alright, things were getting better. Malakie walked up to the bed and plopped on it, sighing tiredly. Faust woke up after hearing him and slithered towards him, coiling lovingly around his arm and resting her head on his hand.  “Thank you, Faust...” he whispered, caressing her gently, after which she went back to her pillows to sleep.  “I’m putting this here,” Asra said, putting the mug on the night stand and then climbing into bed next to the youngster, resting his back on the pillows, careful about Faust. “Want to come cuddle with me...?” he asked cautiously, reading his face intently. Malakie looked at Asra for a moment and then slowly climbed next to him, curling up on his chest, holding fast to him again. “I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean to shun you... I just-” “Shhhh... it’s alright, Mal, it’s perfectly alright. I understand, believe me, and you’re not mean, nor evil, nor a burden... Least of a monster!! You are Malakie, the kid who loves to eat pumpkin break while gossiping with Selasi, the young man who helps Portia with her groceries, the elegant youngster who learned to eat properly at a formal table when Nadia offered to teach... You’re the rascal who offered Jules to act as an alarm every two hours just so he will get home to Zayn on time, you’re the dutiful young one who gives Faust her food and water every day even if I can do it, just so I don’t have to... You’re the accomplished magician that has taught me new tricks yet doesn’t accept my compliments... You’re MY Malakie, the one who’s always there for me when I’m feeling down, no matter if you’re feeling down yourself. The one who puts others before himself no matter if that means more stress... You’re that Malakie. This crisis, these thoughts, they don’t define you, my love, they are just there. And it’s unfair you have to have them, but they don’t make up WHO you are... You are so much more than this, my beautiful one... And I love you just the way you are, crisis or no crisis, paranoia or no paranoia... I LOVE you, Malakie. I wish you could physically feel the love I have for your, everything you mean to me... How important your existence is to me... Please, never feel you’re a burden, you’re not, you’re my partner in life... And I’m never going to leave your side, Malakie, never... Everywhere I go I’ll take you with me, and I hope that everywhere you go you’ll me with you... That’s just how much I love, Mal...” Asra whispered. all the while caressing Mal’s hair, back, arms, hugging him tightly, kissing his head, temples and forehead, and finally making him look him straight in the eyes. “I love you, Malakie...” he whispered again, saying it more firmly, smiling reassuringly and caressing his face with his hands. The purple haired youngster smiled a watery smile, pressing his cheeks into Asra’s palms, feeling his love, his protection, his everything. He looked up at the white haired young man and in an impulsive move pushed himself up and kissed him softly on the dark, full lips. Asra opened his eyes in surprise, but smiled and hugging him close, kissed the youngster back, wiping away remaining tears from his cheeks. He broke the long yet soft kiss and brushed hair off his face. “Go on drink your tea, loved one, I bet it’s at the right temperature now... Then we’ll go to sleep, alright?” Malakie nodded, and drank his tea ceremoniously, licking his lips, enjoying the taste. Slowly sleep began to grab a hold of him and he left the mug on the table, sinking back into the bed, Asra in tow. The magician pulled the youngster close and enveloped him into his arms, hugging him protectively. Malakie smiled sleepily and snuggled again Asra, feeling his warm skin against his slightly colder one.  “Let’s take a day off tomorrow, yes?” Asra said, slyly, knowing that Mal had no way of saying no as he always did, being so sleepy and all. The kid nodded as Asra knew he would and snuggled against him too, smiling. “Good... We’ll go for a walk and have a picnic... Now, sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up, love...” Malakie smiled, too, feeling safe once again, protected. The voices in his head were still there, but Asra’s reassurances and love acted as a shield against them. They might never go away, they might never leave him in peace, he might have to live the rest of his life with panic attacks, weird obsessions, compulsions to match, paranoid thoughts... But he knew that Asra would give him the strength to fight back, to never stop fighting back, to never surrender. His love would be his armour, and in time hopefully he would create one of his own as well... In the meantime... it was nice to feel this loved and this protected... Nothing compared to this, and he was happy about it.

[supportforindieauthors]

Into the Pines by P D Dawson

Mr Harper rested his index finger to his temple as he listened to his client talking about his daily routine. Sebastian had been coming to therapy for three weeks, but Harper knew he hadn't yet got to the heart of his client's problem.

'Listen, these sessions are not cheap,' Harper said while straightening himself in his chair, 'and I like to make sure I give my clients good value for money, but so far all you've told me is how you live your life. What I want to get to is the reason you can't live it the way you want to.'

'I know I've been skirting the issue, haven't I?' Sebastian replied, crouching slightly to a fetal position and gently rocking. 'I don't know what I was thinking really, as I know my story can't be told.'

'All stories can be told, Sebastian, though I grant you, not all can be believed. You have to remember, I'm not here to judge you, I'm here to guide you, and unless you open up, I can't help you.'

Harper's study was cosy with a fake fireplace; giving the impression, they were sitting in a log cabin in the woods when in reality they were in the basement of a building in Baton Rouge. 'No judgement, you say?'

'None at all, Sebastian.'

'Well, I guess that was my hope all along, to tell someone about the unspeakable madness that has plagued me since my early life. I've been stalling because I didn't want you to think of me as mad, but I suppose that's silly really.'

'That's not silly at all. Everyone worries about opening up, but just tell me what it is that brought you here in the first place?'

'Well, there's something that happened to me when I was younger. My parents were both arguing, as usual, on our way home from a holiday. It was dark, and we were travelling down a country road in Louisiana, not too far from home. Holidays were particularly bad with my parents, as they were in each other’s' space more than they liked. I told them I had to pee and that I couldn't wait until we got home. They stopped arguing long enough to listen. My father brought the car to a halt, and then they resumed their argument while I got out. I was an only child, and so carried the weight of my parent's unhappiness alone. The weight felt so heavy that night that it pushed me deep into the woods, and I wondered how long it would be before they'd noticed I had gone for an exorbitantly long whizz.'

Sebastian froze up as if something, in particular, about his story had disturbed him. 'Go on, Sebastian, remember, there's no judgement here.' Harper was intrigued to know more. Most of his patients' stories were trivial to everyone but themselves, but Sebastian seemed to hold a tale of some reverence.

'I thought it was my rebellion and the hatred I felt towards my parents that pushed me into the pines, but now I'm not so sure. I just kept walking and walking, occasionally looking up at the trees and seeing the stars shimmering above. I don't know whether it was the contrast between the darkness at the tops of the trees, but the stars looked particularly lucid and bright that night. I almost felt naked to them, as if I could have reached up and touched them somehow or that they could have touched me. The woods at night is a scary place for anyone, especially for an eleven-year-old kid, but I just kept walking. I felt a kind of satisfaction in knowing that my parents would have something else to think about other than their hatred for each other. Soon I was sure I'd hear them calling out for me, with anxious tremors in their voice, but they never did. What happened, was very different, and very much the source of all the fears I still carry to this day.'

'You can tell me,' Harper begged, feeling Sebastian was losing his nerve again, 'was there some man in the woods, someone that did something bad to you?'

'No, God, nothing like that! What happened was nothing as earthly as all that.'

'I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions; please do continue.'

'Well, even though my parents didn't come after me that night, for reasons I would find out later, I wasn't exactly alone. As I walked through the trees, feeling the soggy earthiness beneath my feet, I could also feel a static charge building up on everything around me. I wondered if there was a storm on the way, but it was the clearest night I can ever remember. I did see flashes shooting across the sky in the darkness, but I assumed it was just shooting stars. What was real was when I reached out and put my hand around the trunk of one of the pine trees. I saw an electrical spark fire into my hands, and it is around this time that my memory becomes a little hazy as to what happened. But what I do remember is a figure standing in the darkness. There was a clearing among the trees, and I could see a swamp and this figure was standing next to it as if it was waiting for me.'

'So, there was a man?'

'No, it wasn't the figure of a man. This figure was very tall, with long limbs and it appeared to have a halo around its outline as if it wasn't of this earth, or not grounded in our reality. My first instinct was to run back to my parents, but my feet had become stuck. All I could do was tremble as this dark figure walked towards me and took my hand. It then proceeded to drag me towards the swamp, which by this time was aglow and seemed to vibrate with ultraviolet light. When I got a chance to look at the figure, I noticed its face was a featureless hollow void of darkness, and as it entered the swamp with me, it morphed into something else, something alien to me, but I can't remember what exactly. All I remember is breathing in the swamp as if it were a thick goo, and thinking to myself, so this is how it all ends. The next thing I remember is waking up in the woods with a sore head and seeing the sun high in the sky beating down on me. My parents had called for the sheriff's help in finding me, but apparently, I had been missing for two days without a trace. To me, it had felt like only seconds had passed between entering the swamp and waking up.'

'I cast no judgement, Sebastian, but I need you to confront reality if you are to get better. What you are explaining to me here is a manifestation of your fears. You were a young boy who feared his parents were going to break up, and so yes; I'm sure you entered the woods in rebellion, but then to deal with that challenging time you have since concocted a fantastical story to supersede your real feelings. Perhaps you fell and hit your head, that would explain your time loss as well as your visions.'

'No,' Sebastian shouted, standing up. 'They took me from the woods that night. They pulled me into the swamp. I remember the coldness seeping into me, and then I felt like I was falling backwards and my body became light. They took me against my will, they poked needles into me, AND THAT'S WHAT HAPPENED TO ME. I SWEAR.'

'Sebastian, think about what you're saying. I can help you find the real truth of that night, I can, but I can't let you continue with this false memory. It's this memory that is keeping you from moving on with your life.'

Sebastian sat down again and then pulled back his sleeve. He leant over and showed his arm to Harper. Harper wrapped his hand around Sebastian's arm and rubbed his thumb over a mark on his skin that looked like a barcode. 'Is this a tattoo?' He asked.

'No, it's not a tattoo. I've had this ever since that night. A few days ago, I booked in to have it removed, hoping that this would help rid me of my fear.'

'So, what happened, did you bottle it?'

'No, I had it removed, but when I woke up the next day it was back. Even the scars from its removal have gone, see?'

'Impossible!'

'No, it's true, though I can understand your hesitance in believing me.'

'I'm sure you can, but if you don't let me help you, then I suggest we end our session right here. I shall refund you for half of this session, and then I want you to see a psychiatrist as your delusions suggest you need more than just therapy.'

'No, that won't be necessary.'

'Why not? You need help!'

'The aliens got all they needed from me years ago, but when the barcode on my arm came back, I knew they wouldn't leave me alone until I had fulfilled a promise I had made to them on that night in the woods. I have dreamt of nothing else but that promise, every single night for years. They gave me back because they needed me to bring them someone else. Not everyone is influenced to go walking into the woods at night on their own, so they need a little help from their previous subjects.'

'I don't follow you; what are you saying? I do think you need that psychiatrist, and soon. I think you need to be subscribed some medication, for my therapy is limited for those who accept their reality, but need help in understanding it. Your problem is that you cannot seem to separate your dreams from your reality.'

'No, you see, in my first two sessions with you, I was genuinely hoping you could make me better, perhaps even without telling you the truth of that night. But that's impossible. I realise that now. There's only one way you can help me. I've struggled with my conscience, but I'm sure you're the right man for the job. Your ability to debunk the fantastical stories that people tell you will put you in good stead to handle this.'

Harper tried to get to his feet, but Sebastian pushed him back into his chair before pushing a needle into his arm. Harper struggled as the contents of the syringe was emptied into his veins, and the warm light of the room fell to darkness.

Harper awoke, feeling like he was coming out of a heavy night of drinking. His brain felt like it was pushing against his skull, and his sight was blurry. Sensing a presence beside him, he spoke. 'Where am I?'

'All you need to know is that you're in a Louisiana wood, but soon you'll be someplace else.'

Harper instantly recognised Sebastian's voice, and he reached for the car door handle, but he couldn't reach as his wrists were tied together with old rope that was cutting into his sore skin. 'Please let me go. I can get you some help. I promise I can.'

'The only way you can help me is if I let them have you, I know that now.' Sebastian replied. 

He had run down the window and was blowing smoke out into the darkness of the Louisiana night. 'It's about twenty years too late, but that won't matter, after all, time doesn't mean the same to them.'

Sebastian almost smoked his cigarette down to the filter, but before it lost its burn, he pushed the tip into the back of Harper's hand. 'Shit, why did you do that?' Harper screamed out in pain.

'I need you lucid for them. You have to be awake when you go through.'

'Go through what?'

'You'll see.'

Sebastian dragged Harper along through the woods. He had dreamt this already, his dreams portending to this very night and the promise forced upon him. The earth was bouncy, the air was cold, and the trees were dense until they came to a clearing. There in the clearing was a swamp. They both saw the thick fog that hung over it like a cloud, but something else was happening too. There was an unexplainable light shining up from its surface, and as Harper recalled the accuracy of Sebastian's tall tales of abduction, it all made sense to him. 'If all that you said is true, then don't do this. I'll help you find someone else instead. We'll look for someone together, someone that deserves it more than me.'

'No, Mr Harper, you're here now, and I can't wait any longer, it has to be tonight, they told me so in a dream. The portal is only open at certain times according to some celestial imbalance that they rely on.'

With that said, a tall, dark figure appeared beside the swamp and Sebastian, knowing Harper could no longer move, let go of him and retreated a little way into the woods where he could watch from a safe vantage point. The alien figure approached Harper and grabbed him by the hand. 'Please no, I believe now, I believe, but don't take me.' Harper yelled. 'I'm a shitty person and an even shittier therapist. You don't want me! My bones are weak and brittle. I'm a poor human subject, you'll see.'

Sebastian turned around as he didn't want to witness Harper's pathetic begging. As he walked away he heard his therapist gurgling through the goo as he was taken down into its spacious confines, a gurgling sound, of which his own had played out like an echo throughout his life. An echo that confirmed the reality most people knew; was only a slither of what was really out there.

Back in his car, he took a cigarette, the last from his pack, and lit it. His hand was trembling at the thought of what he had just done, but he knew it was better they took Harper, better that than taking his wife or one of his children. As he drove away, down through the narrow muddy roads that led back to safety, he felt a tingling on his arm, and a light feeling came over his whole body. He pulled over for a second and turned on the interior light inside the car. The barcode had gone from his arm without a trace, telling him his hanging guilt would be worth it, for they had finally let go of his life, and he hoped, of his dreams too.

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