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Nowhere: thirty- -five

The humidity was uncomfortably thick. It was practically a relief when heavy droplets of rain began to descend upon the world. His head tipped back to gaze at the blotchy clouds. They seemed ugly to him, as he imagined they would look if an amateur artists had painted them. Something seemed so familiar about these particular clouds though. Something unsettling, as if they were associated in his mind with a negative time or place.

CAN YOU SO EASY FORGET? he chastised himself. It was a heady sensation hearing these words - it was as if they were imprinted onto his mind. A wave of disorientation hit him and the struggled to remain standing.

The sky darkened unnaturally. No, not darkening. Dissipating. It wasn't... There was... wasn't...

Brief snippets of pain.

The pulse of his heart in his ears, the feeling of white heat, and the steady depletion of his stamina...

No. He thought this over and over again. NO, I DON'T WANT TO SEE THIS.

The darkness turned to black.

It ate everything around him.

The kind of dread he felt was an unhealthy, unnatural type of dread. It was paired with the deepest feelings of terror and horror that he could possibly perceive.

He felt fear. The type of fear that made it pure agony to live. And it was the type of agony where your physical form wasn't what was threatened, but you were threatened. It was unbearable for him. He was all alone, just like the last time. Last time?

No. NO! he begged, he pleaded, he sobbed and prayed. It was as if all the answers were just out of his reach. If he could just-

Spopovitch and Yamu

Which
way
would
you
go
Kakarot?

Then
I'm
going

left.

He was enveloped in.

He was exhausted, but wide awake. Dear god, he couldn't think about sleep. What was this? This smear of sensation that eroded his speech and mutilated his perception?

It was a quiet afternoon and his room exhaled a musty warmth as he opened the door to enter. He moved stiffly towards his dresser and gently placed his towel on the top. He met his own face in the mirror, but only held the look for a moment before he opened the drawer. He paused for a moment, not certain why he had done so, except that he felt that an ultimatum was coming. Reaching for a fresh pair of boxers, he hesitated again before turning his attention elsewhere. Carefully, he extracted two items and set them on the polished wood.

The first was something he truly treasured. It was salvaged - as if by a miracle - and it was the only thing left of his father. His fingers gently ran across the stone inlay for a few minutes, until his attention finally was divested elsewhere.

He held a metal, rectangular object no larger in perimeter than a standard business or credit card. After much inner debate, he eventually opened the container and withdrew something he kept for reasons he could not define, even to himself.

It was a small piece of fabric, and nothing more.

At least, he tried to tell himself that.

Tried to ignore the striking color.

Tried to ignore the alien symbol.

Tried to ignore the memories of
DISBELIEF
PAIN
REGRET

He Made His Decision Then. He Would Train In Space. Away From This Planet. Away From Him.

What was this? This smear of sensation that eroded his speech and mutilated his perception?

It was.. happening... again...

Over..
and... over...
again..

no
no

stop

please

stop.