Thank you so much to YourLocalAsexualLoser, LightCVII, Katsumi Star, PhantomLordHelix, and Psy-Kick for your lovely reviews. It rerally helped me so much to feel motivated to keep writing, and keep delivering this story to all of you.

I'm unreasonably excited for this one

Enjoy! ?

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Damian closed the door of Professor Henderson's office behind him with a tired sigh.

"How'd it go?"

"GAH!" Damian jolted, and immediately wheezed from the strain on his voice. His hand flew to his throat, once again struck by just how painful it was, from seemingly no effort at all.

Ewen and Emile stared at Damian, and his gut sank to see the worried looks on their faces. Not that he had any idea how to reassure them. He had no idea they were even waiting for him.

This clearly wasn't their first time seeing Damian after the incident - but it was Damian's first time seeing them. That he could remember. He watched them both carefully, looking for any clues in how to act with them, wondering just how much he should expect them to hate him, or be afraid of him.

"Well?" Ewen prompted, while Emile looked on expectantly, with his arms crossed.

Damian tensed, unintentionally crumpling the paper in his hand with a small crackle, which immediately drew Ewen and Emile's attention, and Ewen snatched the paper from Damian's hand. He didn't even bother to fight Ewen for it, mute as he was, knowing that he probably would have had to tell them both eventually.

Emile leaned in, poring over the letter along with Ewen, and both of their eyebrows raised significantly.

"Only one Tonitrus Bolt!" Ewen fist pumped. "Nice!"

"And… oh…" Emile tried to school his eyebrows into submission. "Well, two weeks isn't that bad."

Damian held himself back from groaning, but he did roll his eyes, the only thing he could do to express how he felt about that particular punishment.

He could understand the Bolt, and like his friends, he was supremely surprised to have only received one. Reportedly, that was for damage to school property, and he was also expected to foot the bill for the repairs, which Damian thought was fair. Still, his first Tonitrus Bolt was bound to leave a bitter taste in his mouth, along with the weight of disappointment on his shoulders. He could just picture how disappointed his father would be if he found out. (Or, more likely, when he found out). It only reminded Damian that no matter how many times he tried to ignore it, especially given that he wasn't even on speaking terms with his father, the old habit of caring what his father thought always managed to worm its way back in.

As for the two-week suspension… Damian had a sneaking suspicion that was Henderson's way of trying to help.

"You will be suspended from class for the next two weeks, and temporarily relieved of your Imperial Scholar status and duties for this duration," Henderson had read from the paper in his hands, before he lifted his eyes to Damian's, and the light reflected from his monocle in a temporary flash. "Which should give you enough time to prepare for your press conference," he finished with an imperceptible smile.

Damian was speechless, both literally, and figuratively.

At least Ewen and Emile's reactions were still somewhere on the spectrum of 'normal'. It almost helped him to relax around them.

Then Ewen and Emile scanned further down the letter, and both of their eyes widened.

"Huh," said Ewen delicately. "I guess I should have expected that."

Damian briefly hoped somebody would bury him.

"No, no, it's a good thing!" Ewen tried to reassure his friend hastily. "Those kinds of people are… well they're supposed to be able to help, right?"

"Yeah," Emile quickly agreed. "Yeah, this is good news, isn't it? That's hardly a punishment at all."

That's the problem, he wanted to say, but Damian inherently knew that Ewen and Emile wouldn't understand. They didn't understand how it felt to be the cause of so much pain, and to be unable to take any of it back. He deserved so much worse than the punishments he was given - and he didn't deserve his friends at all.

Damian snatched the paper back with a grunt. He already knew what the words said. Henderson had explained it to him very nicely:

"Dr Hahn also recommended a referral to a psychologist," he said carefully, eyes watching Damian for his reaction. "Which is also in line with our school policy."

Damian tucked his chin towards his chest, not quite meeting Henderson's eyes. Out of the three punishments, that was the one he felt the most ashamed about.

I don't need a psychologist. He wanted to sulk. I don't need to talk about things. Everything is already over. So there's no point.

And now, Ewen and Emile knew everything. The Bolt, the suspension, and the psychologist. Great. Just great. Fantastic, even.

Ewen and Emile seemed to sense Damian's mood had soured, and they gave each other a tense look which made Damian stiffen in anxiety.

"Well, we need to head to the next class, but we'll see you at lunch, yeah?"

Damian nodded, since that was expected of him. It seemed like the right thing to do in any case, since both Ewen and Emile looked visibly relieved.

"We'll meet you by the big tree in the courtyard," Ewen waved to Damian as they parted ways, and then it was just him, standing alone in the corridor, with his disciplinary letter folded up in his hand.

It was so quiet. At least now Damian knew that it was the morning, although the exact time was still a mystery to him.

Now that he was at least somewhat aware of his surroundings, Damian had no idea what to do with himself. If he was suspended, and he couldn't go to class, then what could he do? He couldn't exactly leave the school grounds with the paparazzi still on the loose, but he also didn't want to go and wait in his room, either. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see the state it was in.

It made sense to Damian to just go to the courtyard ahead of time, and wait there for Ewen and Emile to finish their classes.

With the students of Eden College in their respective classrooms, the courtyard was so quiet. Damian carefully crossed the grass, wary of other students that might emerge suddenly, but when no-one showed, he found a bench, sat down, and tried to breathe.

The air was starting to warm up, he noticed. A flash of yellow in the corner of his vision, and he looked down to see the daffodils blooming, bright spots of colour that he hadn't noticed before. The bare branches of the trees had started to bud, and Damian focused his eyes on the tiny spots of green that sprouted from their tips.

With every breath, he inhaled the warm air. Winter had taken so long to recede, and he barely noticed that spring had started. It was almost mocking him, really, because how dare the world move on when he felt so stuck, when his internal world was so cold?

Deep breath.

The warmth wasn't overwhelming, but it wasn't cold either. It made barely any difference to his body. Sitting there.

Damian closed his eyes, and tilted his face towards the sky, letting the breeze touch his face. It was so different from anything he had felt for a while. He was so used to it being winter, he had forgotten it could ever be springtime. He had forgotten that the world could move on. That as much as he felt broken and weary, the world still kept moving. All around him, it was moving on, regardless of Damian's own internal world.

It distantly occurred to him that he was remarkably calm for having just received his first Tonitrus Bolt. Maybe he had already accepted it. Maybe he couldn't feel anything at all. Maybe feeling sad and disappointed about it would push him over the edge again, and it was easier to focus on other things.

He leaned back, listening. Listening to the quiet around him, broken by footsteps in the corridors as classes ended and then started again. Broken by the rustling of the grass and the daffodils, the parting wind as it spiralled around the branches.

He wondered how long it would be until lunchtime. How long he would wait here before Ewen and Emile came to get him. He wondered about everything, letting his mind drift to the different aspects of his life, and what he needed to do. With his eyes closed, things seemed to pass him by very easily. Everything moved so slowly, and so fast at the same time.

Seven months. In the past seven months, his life had changed beyond recognition, and even though nothing was clear anymore, he didn't have the energy to fight against it.

He didn't expect to 'wake up' in a room with Professor Henderson, reading out the events of his year, and then being given a list of his punishments. He didn't expect to see his friends waiting for him, clearly so worried about him, when Damian was sure that they wouldn't want to be speaking to him at all.

He had hurt them. And yet, there they were, just trying to help. Why weren't they more angry? Why didn't they hate him like he hated himself?

Something hot rolled down Damian's cheek, and he wiped it away with the heel of his palm.

It was stupid, wasn't it? He wanted them to hate him, because then he could hate himself without feeling guilty, but they had been friends for so long, he couldn't remember a life without them. Maybe he should have known that they wouldn't walk away so easily.

If the tables were turned, and they were the ones that hurt him, would he do the same for them? Would he feel too betrayed to help them? Would he want to forget about them altogether?

Damian's breath caught in his chest, and he tried to dislodge the lump in his throat before his mind wandered him down a path that he wasn't ready to go down.

By the time Damian opened his eyes, the bell had rung several times over the course of several hours, and throngs of students had moved through the corridors in a cyclical rhythm of activity, rest, activity, rest. Like pulses of energy. It reminded him of jellyfish aimlessly swimming in water, pulsating movements that propelled it onwards.

With his eyes open, Damian let his gaze roam over everything in front of him once again. It was hushed, and strange. He wasn't used to this kind of quiet, and it put him on edge. Surely it would only be a matter of time before the next bad thing foisted itself on him, and he would be spinning through the void all over again.

Something twisted inside him, and he became very much aware of the steadily increasing pounding of his heart. Damian swallowed, trying to push down the bad feeling that had started to take root inside of him, but it ballooned back.

It was then that Damian noticed the urgent footsteps echoing in the courtyard, and Damian turned his head to see a cloaked figure sprinting past in the corridor behind him.

The movement of his head must have caught their attention, because then the figure had changed direction, and was sprinting towards him.

"Damian!" she called. "Thank goodness you're here!"

Becky skidded to a halt in front of him, hands on her knees panting for breath.

Damian blinked, disoriented. His mind had been adrift for so long that seeing Becky in front of him took him completely by surprise, and it was a conscious effort to try to be Damian and not just part of the furniture.

What's going on? He wanted to ask, seeing her apparent distress, but luckily for him, Becky didn't wait to be asked.

"I was trying to find Henderson but - if you're here - maybe you could - please, it's an emergency!"

The fear had gripped him already, before Becky even said her name, and suddenly he knew.

"It's -"

Damian bolted to his feet, rushing past her, and all the while his mind screamed at his body to stop, go back, don't go, don't do it, because why should he? Why should he go to her after what she had done? And yet, he was on autopilot, running and running through the corridors, pushing his feet against the floorboards to get him there faster, while Becky ran in step behind him.

Something tugged on his heart, pulling him along, leading the way when he barely noticed the path of the corridors his body led him through. All he knew was that he had to go, he had to get there now, or else -

(Or else, what? He didn't know, and he didn't want to find out.)

When the ache in his heart strengthened to a torturous degree, Damian's feet slowed, and he paused to take in the sight in front of him.

Students stood in the corridor, milled around a figure on the staircase - a figure that Damian could recognise in his sleep.

As soon as he saw her, his breath vanished from his lungs, and an image surfaced in his mind of Anya's tear-stained face, distraught and disbelieving as he slapped her hand away.

The memory was a punch to the gut, reminding him of the pain that started it all.

That was the last time he saw her. A cruel part of him wanted to turn on his heels and leave her on her knees, in the middle of the stairwell, one arm raised to grip the bannister above her, but it was clear that she could barely pull herself up on it. Her head was bowed, pink hair forming a curtain over her face.

Why hasn't anyone helped her up? He thought with anger, but as Damian scanned the faces of the other students, something sank in his gut.

He couldn't describe the level of wrongness that twisted at him, warning him. It wasn't that the students had purposefully left Anya crying on the stairs, that they chose not to help her - it wasn't that at all.

It was because they couldn't. They were paralysed. Eyes wide open or clenched shut, teeth gritted or slack-jawed, on their feet or on their knees or curled into a ball, but all of them had one thing in common: they had their hands clamped tightly over their ears, as if to shut out a loud noise, but that was impossible, because Damian couldn't hear anything…

And then he heard the words they whimpered, and his blood went cold.

What's happening to me?

Somebody, help!

Make it stop… please…

Becky's footsteps caught up to him.

"I couldn't - " she gasped, her voice desperate and thick. "I couldn't get close to her - "

Becky tried to meet his eyes, tried to communicate some kind of meaningful message through facial expression alone, but Damian didn't see it as his feet carried him ever forward.

One step, then another, and another -

- and suddenly his vision tilted, inverted, and Damian's breath escaped from his lungs, forced out by a crushing weight on him, as though he had walked into a completely different atmosphere, like he had walked through a portal into another world, where gravity was different, and storm clouds permeated the air with static and electricity.

What's going on? He panicked, wobbling on his feet, before the overwhelming pressure forced him to his knees.

Pressure… and fear.

It was all-encompassing. Inescapable. The only thing that existed was the storm and the fear, twisting at Damian's insides, stealing every breath that he dared to gasp, until Damian was sure that he had been hollowed out from the inside, left to be a husk of himself.

Damian!

Something hauled him upwards, out of the storm clouds, and Damian gasped, wheezing in oxygen by the handful as the air rushed back into him.

"I tried to warn you!" Becky hissed at him, her voice low, and Damian stumbled back into her. "Her powers are going haywire! You must have seen this before, right? There's got to be some way to stop this!"

Damian was too shocked to respond.

His body had frozen, but Damian's mind ticked over, putting aside his pain and betrayal, instead gathering the clues of the puzzle in front of him.

He cast a glance over the students once again, noting their pained expressions, the tension in their bodies, the terror in their eyes. And then he looked at Anya: deathly still and slumped on the staircase, her hold on the bannister shaking and unsteady. Her quiet sobs reached him through the otherwise haunting silence.

The conclusion seemed obvious to Damian - even though he didn't know how Becky knew about Anya's powers, but that would have to be a conversation for another time - that Anya's powers were indeed going haywire in a new and terrifying way.

Damian had unwittingly stepped into the radius of Anya's psychic defence, and the effect was immediate, and all-consuming - despite the fact that he knew about the existence of her mind powers. The other students weren't so lucky, and they had no way of escaping from the telepathic trap cast over them, or understanding what was happening to them.

Something must have happened to trigger it. Something bad - but he didn't have time for guesses. He would have to find out later. Besides Becky (to some extent), Damian was certain that he was the only one at Eden who knew anything about Anya's powers. It had to stay that way.

It wasn't even just about Anya anymore. The more minutes that passed by, the closer it would get to the end of class - when the corridor would fill with students moving towards the lunch hall. How many of them would get ensnared in the trap? How many of them wouldn't be able to escape? And how many students would be on the sidelines, witnessing it all? How long would it take for the rumours to spread? What shape would the rumours even take?

They wouldn't be able to hide this easily. Anya's secret would be out on a large scale, completely out of everyone's control, and despite everything, Damian knew that he could not let that happen.

Step back. Think. Think think think.

Damian desperately wracked his brain trying to think of some way to break Anya's trance, but he came up empty. This was, quite frankly, nothing he had ever seen before. He didn't have a single frame of reference with which to tackle the problem. Distraction wasn't an option, if he couldn't even shout out to her, or get her attention.

But he had to do something.

He thought back to being inside it. There was… so much pressure. So much fear.

And it hit Damian then: that fear belonged to Anya.

Something bad had happened, and Anya had (hopefully unintentionally) cast a telepathic trap around her, affecting anyone and everyone who found themselves within the zone of her influence, restraining them with her fear, weighing them down to the point of total powerlessness. It was obviously some kind of self-protection - a psychic's last defence.

Damian inhaled a deep breath as something occurred to him.

Of course it was too much for the other students to cope with. They likely led easy lives, coddled by their parents and teachers alike, never having their worldviews or their values challenged. They lived in the confines of their day-to-day routines. Their problems were ordinary, and surpassable.

Put bluntly: they had never felt fear like this.

But Damian had. Many times.

Damian didn't know how to stop Anya's psychic storm - but he knew about fear, and how to confront it, even when it felt like he was going to die. Fear reigned over him, lived in him. It consumed him, crushed him, time and time again, and every time, Damian stood back up. Every time, he kept moving forward.

He braced himself with a deep breath, and stepped into the storm.

Static and electricity coated his tongue, wiring his jaw shut so that he couldn't even scream. He broke into a cold sweat, needles of ice that pierced him and made him want to curl up on himself in a hopeless effort to retain body heat.

A cruel laugh tore through the storm like lightning.

You know you're a freak, right? You're a witch! Noone is ever going to adopt you.

Panic bubbled inside of him, and Damian tried to keep it down, doing everything he could to breathe even though the pressure equally tried to force the breath from his lungs and bring him to his knees. He couldn't let it win. He had to resist, every step of the way.

One agonising step in front of the other…

Creepy little girl. I have to get rid of her. I don't want to ever see her back here.

Fear lashed at him, a dark and formless entity that clawed at him, trying to drag him under, and Damian felt his own body betray him in response: his own heart pounded in his ears, submerging him in the sound of his own terror, while his entire body trembled. It was an effort to remind himself that this didn't belong to him.

You'll never escape from me, Test Subject 007. Wherever you go, I will find you, and I will make you regret defying me.

It was Anya's fear, not his. It was all hers. Every voice he heard, every nightmare that tried to pull him under, every single one represented Anya's fears. As long as he could remember that, then he could keep moving forward, driven towards the single-minded purpose of putting a stop to it all.

I only need to keep up this mask until the end of my mission. It's not even a real family. I'll abandon her as soon as I'm done.

Damian's hand blindly found the bannister, and he gripped it with all his strength, nearly digging his nails into the wood just to distract himself from the nightmares threatening to take hold of him. He focused on his stinging fingertips, concentrating on bringing them onwards and upwards, to carry himself through the last leg of the storm.

He knows there's something wrong with me. He knows I'm a freak.

And there she was, finally, and he could have toppled just from the relief that swept over him, until he remembered that was only the beginning of his half-baked plan, and the real challenge had only just begun.

It really is all my fault. I ruined everything. He is never going to forgive me. He's going to leave me just like everyone else.

Metallic notes tainted the air, and a wave of nausea hit him as the blood streamed from her nose and her ears, worse than he had ever seen before, coalescing with her tears on the wooden stairs. He waved experimentally in front of her eyes, trying to get her attention, but Anya continued to cry, unable to see him, and the sound wrenched his heart from his chest.

He gingerly lowered himself down, so that he was on his knees in front of her. He couldn't speak - but he didn't have to.

Anya.

He wished he knew what to say. He wished he knew how to do this.

Anya, listen to me.

For a crazy second, he thought he saw her react to his voice, thought he saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes. He hoped it would be enough to get her back.

It's all right. Everything's all right. You're safe. It's okay.

He wanted to cringe. Obviously things weren't actually okay - something was happening to Anya that he had never seen before, and he had never been more scared in his life. He didn't know exactly what was happening, or why, but he knew that people were in trouble. It wasn't just about Anya - Becky was relying on him to fix this, and the other students needed his help. He had to get this right. He had to keep trying.

It's going to be okay, he thought, a bit more honestly, hoping beyond hope that something he said would reach her.

Her eyes were open, and yet Anya looked barely conscious from the vacant look in her eyes. Damian understood that look all too well. It was probably how he had looked for the past few days, completely unaware of his surroundings or anything around him. Though she had stopped sobbing outwardly, the tears continued to pool and collect in the corners of her eyes, before falling continuously on their own.

Anya, he tried again, but this time he brought himself closer to her. He brought his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her towards him, letting her rest against his shoulder, while he hooked his other arm beneath hers, though her hold was strong on the bannister.

Damian's hand rested on her outstretched forearm. You can let go now.

She was so small, so obviously terrified, and somehow, she had heard him. Slowly, Anya's grip loosened on the bannister, and the pressure lifted from Damian, the static dissipating into the air, freeing his lungs, and Damian breathed with relief when he understood that whatever Anya had created had finally ceased.

Suddenly, students that surrounded them fell to the floor, all at once, and Damian jumped from the sound od bodies thumping on the ground.

"Oh my god," Becky gasped, raising a hand to cover her mouth.

Damian didn't have time to process what was going on around him, because then Anya slumped, and Damian remembered just in time to bring his other arm around her, to stop her from falling -

"Don't touch her!"

Damian jerked his head up to see Emile and Ewen rush into the area, both panting for breath.

"Don't -" Emile repeated, making meaningful eye contact with Damian. "Don't touch her. There's something…"

His gaze swept over the fallen students.

"Weird going on…"

"I'll say," Ewen gave a low whistle. "Damn. What happened?"

"Uh," Becky stiffened, her eyes darting between the boys, Damian, Anya, and the scattered students collapsed on the ground. There was a moment that the panic was visible in her eyes, before she threw her shoulders back in resolve.

"Damian, can you stand? Are you all right?"

Damian carefully held Anya while he gave her a thumbs up with his bandaged hand, but Becky narrowed her eyes.

"No, that won't do," she huffed, and then raised her voice to capture the boys' attention.

"Alright everyone, here's the plan. Ewen, you're going to go to Henderson and tell him that there's been a gas leak. Emile, take Anya to the nurse, and tell the infirmary to get the stretchers over here. We need to get everyone here to safety. I'm going to shut down the corridor to divert everyone going to lunch, and Damian," she gave him a look, "you're staying with me. I have an important job for you."

"What?" Emile paled. "Why do I have to take her?"

Bold of Emile to test Becky's patience when she didn't have any to begin with.

"Because! Ewen's got a shoulder injury, Damian can barely stand and has bandages on his arm, and how's he going to to tell the nurse about the other students when he can't fucking speak?"

"Well, why do you have to be in charge?" Emile was visibly panicked, but Becky had no patience to begin with.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Becky with barely-veiled sarcasm. "Do you see any other Imperial Scholars around? One who is conscious, that is."

Damian cringed, remembering his suspension, but he had to admit that she had a point.

He looked over to Emile, confused at his sudden animosity, silently wondering where Emile's resistance came from.

"A gas leak?" Ewen looked at her incredulously. "Could that really do… this?"

"Something similar happened at my Dad's company over the winter," Becky said effortlessly, not missing a beat. "Some of our workers reported hallucinations, some physical symptoms, but it's completely recoverable, don't worry."

Then Becky snapped her fingers impatiently.

"Now hurry up! We don't have any time to waste."

Ewen ran off immediately, but Emile was slower on the update, walking towards Damian and Anya on the stairs like he expected them to attack him at any moment. It sickened Damian to think that Emile had every reason to be cautious, and wary of approaching either of them.

Emile's eyes widened when he knelt down, and finally saw Anya's bloodied and tear-stained face, previously hidden by her air.

"Holy shit," he breathed. "I didn't know… It was this bad…"

Damian's arms instinctively tightened around her. Thankfully, the blood had stopped pouring from her ears and nose, but the marks stayed behind, staining Damian's vest and her shirt.

Never mind every other time - this was the worst he had ever seen her.

"Damian, let go of her," said Emile quietly. "You can trust me."

Damian blinked, embarassed that he held Anya so tightly, almost turning away from Emile. He couldn't understand why he found it inexplicably difficult to let go of her. Why it felt like Emile was removing a part of his own soul.

He prised his own hands from her body, and helped to carefully maneovre her into Emile's hold, and all the while his body ached with a mixture of both exhaustion, and the rush of several different emotions battling for dominance inside of him. Maybe he could think about things later, but at that moment in time, Damian was just far too tired.

Emile carried Anya away, and Damian took his time going down the stairs, using the bannister to support his weight. He was more tired than he thought.

As soon as his foot left the final stair, Becky enveloped him in a rib-crushing hug.

"I don't know how you did that," she said, in a slightly strangled voice. "I don't know how - how you got through to her. I couldn't do it, and I tried, I really did." She swallowed. "I tried."

Damian blinked, and remembered at the last second that people were generally expected to hug back. He lifted his hands and gave her an awkward pat on the back, realising that this was probably the first time Becky had ever tried to hug him.

She pulled back, wiping her eyes with her hands.

"God. Okay. Focus!" she patted her cheeks. "Your job is really very important, just, make sure you don't get caught. I know you got into trouble with the school, I know that you guys are fighting, but, please, I can't entrust this to anyone else."

She lowered her voice, and met Damian's eyes with utmost seriousness.

"I need you to make a gas leak."

"Yes, I'm serious," Becky said, after a moment in which Damian just stared at her blankly, probably trying to comprehend her heinous idea.

She didn't blame him. It was a heinous idea, but what other choice did they have?

"There has to be a reason that students started dropping like flies in the middle of the school day, and it can't be because Anya has psychic powers that were on the fritz and she made a mental storm that might have attacked other students," she implored him with her eyes. "Do you understand?"

He nodded slowly.

"Good," she breathed out, suddenly, not realising until Damian agreed with her just how tense she was. "There's a maintenance cupboard down the hall and to the left. I'm going to divert everyone away from here and away from you, but you still have to be quick. Who knows when Henderson and Ewen will get back, or how long you have until the school calls someone to investigate, but it's really important that they find something to blame for all this. Can you do it?"

Damian started to move in the direction she indicated, but after a few steps, he turned to look at her quizzically, clearly uncomfortable with leaving her.

"Go. I'll be fine," Becky smiled wanly.

She watched his back as he left, and let her smile fade.

Becky hadn't lied to Damian. She really did try. Five times, she tried to walk into the storm herself, but she would only make it a single step inside the perimeter before she was knocked back by the horrible sensations that took over her.

It was unbearable. She had never felt anything like it - the utter fear for her own life, the flashes of her own nightmares that tried to reach inside and take her sanity, amplified beyond anything she had ever imagined.

'I don't know how you did it', she had said to him, but Becky knew the answer. As she watched him brave the fear that no doubt affected him just as much as her, as she watched him shake and struggle with every step, and reach Anya without speaking a single word, she knew. It was obvious. Had always been obvious.

"Anya, you lucky, lucky girl," Becky shook her head, trying to hold her tears back. She had to pull herself together, she had to stay strong, at least until it was all over.

The drumming of her heart was loud in her ears, and Becky closed her eyes to count down the seconds until the bell finally rang, signalling the end of class, and Becky stood her ground, ready for the students to spill into the corridors.

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I'm so proud of our boy! And Becky! They both really did their best to pull through. Writing Damian is still difficult because he's like half-dissociated: starting to come back to his own awareness, but definitely not back to himself yet. The second devastation isn't quite fully resolved - Damian's still got a lot to think about, a lot to do, but now we can feel like healing is a little more possible than it was before.

I had fun writing this, but damn, all these emotions and dissociations are so draining. I'll take a small break from writing this weekend - I'm in London with my fiance, and we're going to go to restaurants and see musical theatre!ﾠ

Next chapter: Saturday 1st June 2024

We're going to reconvene with Emile and Anya and... some other things