I watch his retreating back, growing increasingly distant, while the echoes of mocking laughter persistently grow stronger. I feel utterly pathetic, consumed by a profound sense of sorrow, standing there as if awaiting salvation, knowing deep down that it will never come. Perhaps what crushes me the most is the realization that, after all this, I am solely reliant on myself.

That I have nothing to count on.

I shake myself off, though not entirely, as I still foolishly gaze at the small, moving dot that was recently a boy for whom I was willing to bend all the rules, and who, in one gesture, shattered the peace I had barely managed to build.

And it was really good. Calm. Safe. Pleasant.

It was so wonderful that, at times, I doubted if it was truly reality.

And rightfully so.

Because, as it turned out that day, the entire idyll was merely an illusion, behind which lurked the most genuine nightmare.

***

I am simultaneously so sleepy and tired that I can't tell if the screams coming from behind the wall are real or if those voices are only screaming in my head, although they might as well be the result of pressure, and the voice — a dull squeak. Bottles of beer scattered on the floor do not make things any easier; I stumble over them every few steps and walk unsteadily, unstably. My face burns, and my throat feels like it's on fire. Thirst constantly begs for a sip of a cold drink, though my body would gladly accept water, including my sweaty and most likely smelly clothes. And I was supposed to lie down just for a moment!

On the windowsill, I spot my phone. Hidden notifications flash at me from a distance, so I pick up the device and quickly unlock the screen to see a few missed calls from my mom and a message urging me to contact her as soon as possible. I furrow my brows, wondering what it could be about, and go to the contact list. But before I can call back, the cellphone starts vibrating. I pull the call icon to the side and bring the device to my ear.

A sigh of relief is the first thing I hear.

"I was afraid I would have to call all your friends," she says. There's no anger or annoyance in her voice, but rather weariness and quite noticeable tension. "I know you were supposed to stay overnight at Clay's, and I'm sorry for probably waking you up, but... something urgent came up. Can you gather yourself? I can even pick you up."

I panic, looking around. A few soaked individuals lie on the couch. Some girl, whom I don't recognize at all, scratches her buttocks in her sleep, and right after that, she knocks over a beer can with her hand, which then falls to the floor with a crash, rolling around. I almost choke at that sight.

"That's not necessary," I respond, waving my hand as if my mom could see it. "I'm close by, so I'll be there soon."

"Alright. That's good. It's truly important, so... hurry, alright? We need to talk."

I start nodding, then move the phone away from my ear and end the call. I wouldn't be surprised if mom gets terrified by my wretched appearance, but it seems important. I haven't had a drink, so the only problem is these crumpled rags that until recently resembled clothes. Eventually, I'll blame it all on a brisk walk; after all, my condition is not the best. Mom wouldn't sit by the phone waiting for my response for God knows how long if there wasn't something significant at stake.

Suddenly, it's as if I gained sobriety, and with slightly better control over my legs, I cut through the entire corridor. I carelessly put on a thin jacket, not even bothering to tie my shoes; I simply tuck the laces into the sides, fully aware that they'll slip out soon, and I leave. Out of curiosity, I glance at the display. It's 4 a.m. The sky is still covered in a deep, dark navy blue, pure and flawless; the stars are not visible, mainly due to the multitude of neighborhood lamps. I pull the hood over my head and immediately pick up the pace.

***

The suitcase standing in the hallway is not the most expected sight. Nevertheless, I close the door behind me and make my way into the living room. I can hear noises coming from the kitchen, so I glance in that direction. Mom is pacing around the kitchenette, frantically searching through the cabinets. At first, she didn't notice my presence. I approach her, sending a questioning look, and only then do I receive a reaction — she grimaces upon seeing me but ultimately doesn't comment on my disheveled appearance.

"I have no idea where I put my passport." She sighs, and I raise my eyebrows. "Damn it, first the letter, now this..."

"I don't understand. Wasn't your flight scheduled for Tuesday?"

"That's why I called you. They canceled my reservation. Unforeseen circumstances, you know." She shakes her head, resigned. "They compensated me with a significant discount on the ticket price, but... my new departure is tomorrow. And it's right after eight, and until then, I still need to get in touch with Bonnie..."

"With Aunt Bonnie?" I grimace, not because of an immediate mental image of the woman but simply because I don't like her and the sound of her name doesn't sit well with me. "Why?"

"Peter and Eve are out of state; they won't make it in time."

Damn.

"What a mess."

Mom scolds me with a glance.

"I'm sorry." I bit my lip. "But you understand why I reacted like that." I fall silent, feeling that there's nothing more I can do.

"Don't worry about it. I'll talk to Bonnie."

"Do you really think it will make any difference?"

"I don't see any other option, sunshine." She doesn't give up.

Aunt Bonnie is the type of person who is extremely stubborn, and I just can't seem to get along with her. She always throws annoying remarks my way, most of which I ignore because, during a single encounter, you can overlook certain jabs. But what will I do when we both get stuck under the same roof for a longer period of time? Mom wasn't around for two whole weeks before because of the drawn-out court case.

"We're going to drive each other crazy."

"You'll work it out," she corrects me with such genuine conviction that I almost start to believe her. At the same time, I feel the urge to snort, but I ultimately restrain myself.

I look ahead with resignation, mentally jumping between available options for a temporary stay.

"What if... I stayed with Newton? You know his parents. They're decent people. You can trust them without hesitation." I don't sound desperate at all. Not in the slightest.

"But I don't want to impose on them." She grabs her temples, closing her eyes. "I'll talk to Bonnie and ask her to restrain herself, but the same goes for you," she says, looking at me warningly. "Don't provoke her into an argument."

"I'm not the problem here," I scoff.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about." She crosses her arms. "You need to start controlling yourself."

I fall silent. I haven't seen Aunt Bonnie in a good year, so I can't predict what our meeting will bring. If mom talks to her, maybe she will actually ease up. Unfortunately, there's also a chance that she will completely disregard her words and start babbling nonsense, as usual, and then we won't be able to reach an understanding.

"You know it's going to be difficult."

"Who said you have to spend all your time together? You're in your final year, so you can focus on exam reviews. Bonnie won't bother you."

"I hope you are right."

Mom knows me well enough that she packed my suitcase even before I returned; she only included the basic stuff. She'll leave the apartment keys with Aunt Bonnie once we get there, so I can come back later to take some other clothes. I grab my MacBook, headphones, and the charger I share between my computer and phone from the desk and stuff everything into my bag. I put the guitar in its case. If I'm really going to deal with things properly there, I need to have everything that helps me gather my thoughts.

I take a quick shower and change into fresh clothes. After brushing my teeth, I step out of the bathroom. In the meantime, mom must have found the passport because she's now sliding the folder with previously scattered documents on the counter into a spacious travel bag. I must pass the test of looking presentable because, after glancing at me, mom smiles genuinely, as if she has been waiting for this sight since the moment I crossed the threshold of our apartment.

She exits the hallway first. I grab most of the belongings, including the suitcase and the guitar, and slowly make my way downstairs. The car is parked right by the entrance, so I toss the luggage inside and take a seat in the passenger's seat.

Soon after, the monotonous roar of the engine reaches me, prompting me to close my eyes and indulge in a nap, which I desperately need, especially since I didn't sleep well last night, mainly due to the nightmares haunting me recently.

***

Aunt Bonnie's house is located on the outskirts of the city, and the drive takes us about an hour. Miraculously, I managed to sleep through the entire journey. I wake up with a slightly dissatisfied expression on my face, which thankfully goes unnoticed by mom as she pulls into the backyard. She parks next to an old but well-maintained Jeep. Visually, at least, since I haven't peeked under the hood.

Mom hands me the keys, and without a word, she heads towards the front of the house, probably wanting to have a private conversation. The beginning will likely be the toughest, so I can understand that. I leisurely retrieve my suitcase, guitar, and laptop bag and close the trunk. I lock the car doors with the remote. Taking slow steps, I follow in mom's footsteps.

It's very quiet inside. I don't hear any raised voices, which brings an immediate sense of relief. Some murmurs can be heard coming from the living room, so I head in that direction. However, before I cross the threshold, I overhear mom's calm voice.

"That's why I'm asking you, Bonnie, to let it go. He's my son."

A chill runs down my spine. I'm not the kind of person who reacts emotionally to everything they hear, but this time I can't control my sudden reaction. I grip the handle of my suitcase a bit too tightly. My body abruptly responds with an unexpected twitch, and the suitcase hits the doorframe. I have the urge to facepalm, but I settle for a simple sigh and enter the living room.

Mom and Aunt Bonnie stand in the middle of a small but well-organized room. They both turn their attention to me at once. Mom's face immediately lights up with a slight, but comforting smile, while Bonnie gazes at me with distance and scrutiny. I used to be terribly afraid of her when I was a child. She reminded me of a stern teacher, a caregiver who allowed nothing and only warned of the consequences of not following the rules. But now, I think that seriousness suits her well. Despite everything I think about her, I can't deny that she's a captivating woman. I'm particularly fascinated by the dense freckles covering not only her face but also her neck, arms, and décolletage. Newt has a similar feature.

I lower my gaze and place the suitcase on the floor. I approach mom to hand her the keys, but she shakes her head. As it appears, the car will stay here.

"I'll go to the airport with Bonnie. It might take us a while, so I don't know; maybe try to get some sleep? After all, I dragged you away from your friend's place." Instant guilt tugs at me. "We had to drive a bit... You must be exhausted."

"Sure." I shrug, cutting off the friend thing. "But where to?" I haven't been here in years, and I'd rather not stumble upon anything Bonnie might be hiding from the rest of the world. Showing a little decency shouldn't hurt.

Aunt Bonnie immediately grabs my attention. She doesn't need to say a word, and I already know she wants me to follow her. So I do. We make our way upstairs, where the hallway is quite narrow and visually diminished by dark brown slatted walls. Nevertheless, the whole house still feels cozy.

Bonnie comes to a halt, so I lean against a low cabinet with a sturdy white pot containing a snake plant. Instinctively, I brush my finger against the tip of a thick, elongated leaf. It's not even dusty.

"The bathroom is on the right, but there's no shower." She points towards the room. I mechanically glance in the right direction; the door is just a few steps away. "To wash up, you'll have to go to the one downstairs. At the very end," she nods her head to the other end of the hallway, "there's a utility room. And your room is here." She gracefully reaches for the doorknob.

We step inside. A modest ceiling lamp illuminates the pale blue, bare walls, which could use an extra stroke of paint to even out the color in some places. Folded bedding, likely recently taken out of the closet, lies on the narrow bed. The floor is clean, and I don't see a speck of dust on the windowsill. I would never have expected any room in Bonnie's house to give the impression that it was prepared specifically for me.

"Thanks," I say. I don't know what else to add.

She doesn't react. Instead, she exits, leaving the door open.

I look around the room once again. It is indeed small, but it satisfies me completely. I don't even have anything to compare it to because whenever mom goes on her trips, I always stay at home with Peter and Eve. Bonnie obviously didn't go for that arrangement, so it was me who had to move.

I sit on the single bed; the mattress doesn't creak or squeak. It's not too firm either, so I assume I'll fall asleep effortlessly. I always have that problem on trips. I don't remember ever coming across a comfortable sleeping spot.

I hear footsteps, so I raise my head and lock eyes with mom.

"And how's the first conversation? I didn't hear any shouting." She smiles lightly, perhaps trying to encourage me.

"Quite bearable."

"Bonnie?"

"No chance," I snort, shaking my head. "She's okay. Maybe I overreacted a bit. You don't have to worry. I'll manage. You know that, right?"

"I know." She passes by the dresser next to the door and sits beside me. With a slow movement of her hand, she brushes my hair, tucking some strands behind my ear. "But if something starts happening and, God forbid, Bonnie doesn't treat you well, call me, and I'll try to figure something out."

"Alright."

"You know your worth, so I believe you won't feel bad because of a few stupid comments."

"No doubt. But that doesn't change the fact that I'll burst into laughter if I hear another comparison of pansexuality to necrophilia."

"Samuel." Mom grimaces in disapproval.

"It was idiotic, and don't even try to deny it!" I shake my head helplessly.

"Bonnie is Bonnie." A hint of disappointment appears in her eyes. "She already knows that such comments are out of line, and I hope she'll stop making them. And if something goes wrong, don't stoop to that level. Bonnie is Bonnie," she repeats, "but you are yourself. Let nothing change that."

Without hesitation, I smile. Mom really knows what to say to lift my spirits. She is both a parent and a friend. I tell her almost everything, and every time she proves to me what a wonderful person she is. She never had a problem with my openness to all kinds of differences, however you want to put it. She supported me when I was just discovering myself and my mind, making the whole process not so difficult. She supports me now too, although... She no longer has an idea about certain things.

Before getting into Bonnie's Jeep, she takes out her travel bag from the trunk of her Peugeot and hands me the keys again. She hugs me tightly in farewell, then waves through the window with a smile. The car quickly disappears from my sight, so I go back inside and take the luggage upstairs to unpack the rest of my things.

***

In the past few days, I haven't had the pleasure of arguing with Bonnie even once; my aunt keeps her distance and only talks to me when necessary. There's generally a communicative silence between us, and it doesn't bother me one bit. Although the commute to school is a bit troublesome, taking over an hour and requiring a transfer, other than that, everything is really okay, and I have almost nothing to complain about.

I sincerely hope that this tranquility will last until my mom returns.

"See? Didn't I tell you?" she asks during our FaceTime conversation.

"You couldn't wait to say that, could you?"

"Who doesn't like being right?"

"Since you put it that way, you should know that..." I quickly come up with more reasons just to have a chance to complain a little and stand my ground, even if there is no need to do that.

Bonnie requires me to inform her if I plan to stay out late or spend the night somewhere else. By somewhere else, I mean one of my friends' places, which isn't always true — I won't admit that I'm not coming home because I'm going on one of my dates.

I'm afraid to think about what will happen if I slip up and reveal too much, just like what happened with my best friend. It didn't bring anything good for either of us.

And certainly not for the mess that's currently going on in my head.

Through the points that Newt raised, trying to convey to me what a big mistake I'm making by dating guys who only care about 'one thing', as he put it, he accidentally tore down the wall I've been working on for a damn long time to get rid of thoughts and memories associated with someone I really wanted to forget.

And now, I'm reliving all of those things again.

To put it plainly — everything has gone to hell.

And as much as I'd like to blame Newton, I can't. It was my own carelessness that got me into this mess.

"Go to hell, Newt!"

"What now?" I hear his weary voice, so I shift in my seat and meet his puzzled gaze with my own.

A hint of amusement automatically appears on my face.

"Nothing. I'm just talking to myself."

He simply averts his gaze, not attempting to delve into the topic. That surprises me the most because that's Newt for you — reticent and focused, full of hidden thoughts and implications, yet when I come to the forefront, he undergoes a drastic change and seizes everything to have an influence on me.

Although we've known each other for quite some time, there are still aspects of our lives that remain unknown.

Sometimes I wish I could step into his mind and find out what he's thinking, but then I realize it would be boring. So, in silence and peace, I wait for the cards to reveal themselves, because that's what getting to know someone is all about.

And Newt is definitely someone I want to fully understand.

And... who knows? Maybe through that, he'll also uncover my hidden side?