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How do I feel?
Like—I need a shower.
Well, alright. I assume that means I'm doing better then...

I held this conversation in my head. It was my fifth day of recovery—and it was nice to feel like I was actually recovering. The joint aches and muscle pain were still very much there—but my veins no longer itched, my nausea and overall stomach problems subsided, and for the first time, in a very long time, I could sit still without much trouble.
I was still under a cloud of malaise—and headaches still frequented. My desire to get up and actually do something productive still wasn't there entirely, but I did want to get better, and I could finally see a light at the end of all this.
Once I stopped aching, the first thing on my agenda—was to play that guitar. I hadn't even looked at it yet, and the case it sat in goaded me on. I refused to open it until I was actually well enough to play it.
Both Averil and I got a full night of rest for the first time in a while last night—and that alone had our spirits lifted. Today, I also decided would also be the first time I'd eat a proper meal.
I had forced myself out of bed, and was rummaging haphazardly through the kitchen cupboards for something appealing when Averil ventured in from upstairs to see what the racket was.

“Tu, what—are you looking for?”
My ears perked up at the sound of her voice and I withdrew my head from the cupboard to look at her, “Something quick to eat?” I offered a sheepish grin.
The concerned expression on her face melted into a relieved smile, “You're—really? Let me make you something then. What do you feel like? Sandwiches? Soup?”
I bit my lip with a smirk, “Both?”
“Both—you sure?” She hesitated, “I think it'd be better to start of with something small and light—don't over do it.”
“I can handle it,” I replied, “I haven't had a decent meal for days.”
Averil began collecting the ingredients, “That's what I'm worried about,” grabbing a plate for the sandwich, she looked back at me with apprehension, “alright, get back in bed—you might feel better, but I still want you to take it easy. I'll bring this to you.”
Without thought or argument, I gave her a grateful kiss on the forehead before obediently returning back to the comfort of my bed.

Averil brought my meal to me in no time.
“I'll never be able to make up to you for all this,” I grabbed half of the sandwich, “seriously—” I took a bite—an that was more than enough to wake my stomach up. Suddenly, it felt like I hadn't eaten for days—and I began to scarf the meal down without any reservations.
“Just get better and never touch the drug again—we'll call it even,” Averil replied, “and for god's sake, slow down. You'll get sick!”
Despite Av's precautions, I definitely didn't take my time devouring the food. It just felt so good to actually eat something and enjoy it. I was content with the accomplishment.
My accomplishment, however, wasn't content with me.
Fifteen minutes later, I was keeled over the bathroom's toilet—as my stomach violently rejected everything I had just put into it.
Averil stood in the doorway with her palm on her forehead, fingers rubbing her scalp to channel her stress, “too much too soon, hey?”
I turned to look at her with a fool's grin, “I—regret nothing.”
Her brow pressed together in mild concern, “I think it's time to cut you off the methadone.”
“I think it's time for dinner,” I retorted.
“Oh for—I'll make you tea and give you vitamins. How about that for dinner?” She shot back.
“But—”
“No,” Av turned to leave, “I'm making tea.” she glanced back at me with a smirk, “It is nice to see you doing well enough to be charmingly stupid again, though,” and left on that note.
Stupid? I frowned and muttered entirely to myself, “well, fine. I'm going back to sleep then—I hurt.”
And as I settled back under the blankets, I smirked thoughtfully.
...Charmingly so.

I bounded down the hallway, and into the living room where Averil was watching television.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I chimed.
She offered me a lopsided smile, “Nice to see you doing so well this morning.”
“I took a shower and even brushed my hair—just for you.”
I flaunted myself and Av hummed a giggle, “well, good!”
“Do I look good?” I wanted to hear her say it.
“'Course! You look great,” She replied favorably.

Three weeks had gone by. Physical pain had left me—and now all that remained were the psychological wounds that we both knew would take much longer to heal. Some days were much better than others for me, and so far, today was one of the good days.
It was still too easy for me to fall into a negative train of thought—and they were strong enough to put me out for an entire day or two. However, Averil made it a lot more difficult to fall into a negative mindset. Somehow, she understood the situation inside my head—and she worked her best to make it better.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet so that I could give her a solid hug, “we should do something today.”
Av favored me with a coy hum, “why? Restless? Too nice to stay inside?”
“Bit of both,” I replied honestly, “lets go for a walk or something—I think I'm getting stir-crazy.”
She pulled away from me and headed upstairs, “Alright if you want a walk then, we better do it soon. Rain is on it's way.”
She grabbed her things from her bedroom before we whisked ourselves out the door.

Averil was right. There was definitely rain in the air. It was humid and you could smell it. Dark blue clouds loomed at a visible distance, but the sun still shone brightly.
“Weird you've only been here for a month.” Averil sighed, “a very, very long month.”
“Feels a lot longer, doesn't it,” I replied.
With little hesitation, she took my hand, “well, at least that was the worst of it.”
“We hope.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, “don't even say that.”
I put an arm around her and rubbed her shoulder reassuringly, “Alright, your right—it couldn't get much worse, that's for sure. Situation's headed up now.”
We shared a few steps in silence before Averil mentioned, “Cougen wants to visit tomorrow—and I said that was fine. He'll probably stop by for lunch.”
“Sounds good. Speaking of visiting, I've gotta stop by and say hi to Davey and Tobey too.” I frowned, “I'm so bad at socializing.”
Averil chuckled, “I'm sure nobody minds.”
It was weird—the way I felt then. It was an odd emotion I couldn't quite put my finger on—and it was occurring more and more often. It was an odd mixture of bliss, tension, excitement, and frustration. It was contradictory—comfortable, yet uncomfortable. I felt like I needed to do something, but knew I couldn't.
And it was always that way when I was around her.

“Oh, also,” Averil began—snapping me out of my thought, “Jose's coming back in a few days too.”
“Jose?” My mind skipped at the mention of the name.
Jose—her fiance?
I was hit with an unsettling possessive pang—and had a hard time swallowing it down.
Averil smiled, “It'll be so nice to have him back. I miss him way too much when he's gone, you know? And he's always gone, it seems.”
That's when it finally sank it. This was the most inconvenient time for the realization to hit me—and I felt absolutely stupid that I hadn't recognized it sooner.
I was in love with her.
No—infatuated. It was an infatuation. Not love. You can't fall in love with someone who's engaged. Honestly, who wouldn't feel like they were in love with her? She was so kind, patient, gorgeous—it would be impossible not to feel some kind of affection for her.
An infatuation—not an emotional commitment... Just something that brushed the surface of it.
“I bet you're looking forward to having him home,” I replied as coolly as I could, “I bet he's looking forward to being home—with you.”
“It'll be good.” Averil held her breath, “I need to convince him to stay home.”
Out of genuine curiosity, I asked, “what keeps him away?”
Averil frowned, “he's a journalist—he writes about and documents the various situations in other cities, states, countries... And he's never home because of it. They always send him off to live in far away places for periods of time,” she sighed, “He loves his job more than anything—and rightfully so! I've never met anyone else who's been to as many places as him. It's done amazing things for his character. But I miss him.”
I frowned with her—but more from my own sudden internal turmoil. I wanted to sympathize with her, but my thoughts wouldn't leave the personal conflict that had manifested itself so immediately.
Why else would I have been so compelled to be with her, to seize her and keep her close—to go through all hell just to have her company? It was becoming increasingly clear to me—that I indeed wanted what I could not have. Be it infatuation—or love, it made brutal sense, now.
I just love making things difficult for myself, don't I.

The rest of the day was spent trying to keep myself occupied so that I didn't dwell further on the thought of Averil as my apple in the garden of Eden. A lot of the time, I just played the gorgeous guitar Cougen had gave me. I had named the instrument Madison—since Averil had managed to convince me instruments played better when they had a name. I still needed to pay for it—and during lunch of the following day, I was finally able to.

Averil had laid out a large tray of meats, cheeses, and crackers—of which we all pecked at happily. It was nice to be in Cougen's company again. His smile and cheerful moods were always contagious, and he seemed to bring laughter with him, where ever he went. It was definitely welcome in the cozy living room of Av's home.

“And so this guy—he was hulking huge, man,” Coug told his stories with enthusiastic hand gestures and appropriate, almost theatrical facial expressions, “he walks into the store, and I swear to god—this guy must have been like a professional wrestler or something—he comes in and stares at me over the counter for a moment before asking, 'got any pan flutes?' Pan flutes!? Seriously? This guy looks like he takes down bears for fun, and he wants a pan flute. What's he going to do with it? Can you maim someone with a pan flute? I was almost afraid to ask.” Averil and I both shared a humored laugh with him before he calmed down slightly to mention, “You're looking a lot better, already Turu. How have you been feeling?”
“Better,” I confirmed, “not a hundred percent, but definitely better. I don't feel like I'm dying.” I offered him a light grin and he returned it.
“Good to hear, bro,” he replied and pointed a stern finger at me, “no relapsing.”
Averil rolled her eyes and gave him a nudge, “No hassling.”
I waved it off with a smile. It was a valid concern, really. It would have been ignorant of me to deny the possibility—I wasn't nearly out of the woods yet. I wondered if I'd ever be, entirely.

We all helped Averil clean up after lunch, and shared some more casual chit chat. None of us had any further plans for the day—so Cougen wasn't in a hurry to leave and we weren't in a hurry to get rid of him. It was nice—almost comforting—to be in the company of another mut. Cougen was the only one I really knew.

“It's kind of crazy how much things can change over a couple of years,” I began casually, “I mean—technically, it wasn't that long ago—I didn't even have the privilege of sight.”
“And then, you managed to get into all sorts of trouble once you got it,” Cougen shot back, “you're learning though. Averil's doing a good job of getting you on your feet for the first time in your life.”
I gave a small nod, “Lucky.”
“Bah, luck,” Cougen scoffed, “don't believe in luck, believe in yourself—and in your friends.”
The corners of my mouth twitched into a small smirk, “I'll believe in myself, my friends, and luck. A little superstition never hurts.”
We shared a moment of bemused silence before I asked, “do you have any other friends who are muts?”
Cougen furrowed his brow quizzically, “why?”
“You're the only mut I know. It's just weird to me—that I wouldn't know more. I've never really met any mut other than you.”
“Do you need to? I'm pretty much like—a ten in one kind of deal,” he snorted a laugh.
I grinned with him, “I don't doubt that. I guess I'm just a bit curious.”
Coug crossed his arms pensively, “Well, there is this place I used to volunteer for...” he pursed his lips in uncertainty, “I don't know, though. It might not be the best place to start.”
My face lit up at the mention of it, “what place?”
Cougen rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, “yeah, it's a little bleak... I mean—it's a shelter. The more I think about it, the more I think it's not really a good idea.”
I gave him a goading frown and he strummed his fingers on his chin hesitantly, “alright, not now, dude. You just got off drugs—and what you'd see there might have you strongly reconsidering them.”
I threw my arms up in protest, “oh, come on. It can't be that bad.”
“Alright, fine,” Cougen caved, “Later, before I leave—I'll take you over.”



Averil invited him to stay for dinner as well—and he was happy to oblige. It wasn't until six that evening when Cougen finally agreed that it was time to head out to the shelter. It was only a bus ride and a bit of a walk before we found ourselves at the entrance of the rather bland looking building. It roughly resembled the look of an elementary school—brick walls, with concrete foundation, and red painted steel doors with windows you can peer into.
I followed Cougen up the cement steps and he turned to me before opening the door, “If you've never been around a group of unblinded muts before, brace yourself. It's a bit of a shock at first and things might get a little weird if you're not ready for it.”
I simply shrugged, “Alright, then.”
He gave a humorless laughed and shook his head, “I can't believe I'm doing this to you—good experience, I guess.”

He pulled the doors open, and I followed him in. There was a moment of dquiet—but as soon as my eyes fell upon the population inside the building, I was suddenly hit by a wall of noise. It sounded like radio static, blasted at full volume. It was an intrusive, unpleasant noise and I flattened my ears down as far as I could to block it out—but to no avail.
Cougen continued walking ahead of me—and I tried my best to keep up with him, but the noise interfered with my vision and it was difficult to keep my mind on what I was supposed to be doing. One thing I was able to tell, was that no one, not a single person, was talking. No one was even stirring--just staring at me.
“What is this!?” I tried to ask—but I wasn't certain if I had actually said it out loud.
I stopped to hold down my ears and shake my head in hopes to get rid of the loud sound that buzzed incessantly. It didn't work. I found myself wishing to leave, but I lost sense of direction completely, and couldn't remember which way was out. Rather, I couldn't focus enough to figure it out.
I was ready to drop to my knees and bury my head into my arms—I didn't know what was happening, or why. So suddenly, I had become very, very lost.

And then—silence. It was so sudden, my ears rang under the impact. There was nothing, not even a breath. I looked down to see a lady roughly my age, crouching on the ground with a hand on the leg of my pants. She was looking up at me with wide, curious eyes. Her skin was chocolate colored with a pale, almost cream colored spot around her right eye—and a patch beneath her collarbone that continued down under her shirt.
She was trying to tell me something, but her mouth didn't move.
I knelt down to meet her eye level. I needed to hear her out, and I was pulled in closer to her.
I know you. It was my own thoughts—not something she said. Yet for some reason, I could have sworn it came from her. I know you—but what–doing—a place—this? Lost.
It didn't quite make sense. I needed to get closer, to hear her. I needed to hear her.
I'm lost too. Stay with me.

I felt a strong grasp grip the back of my shirt and and I was yanked up suddenly. The feeling was akin to being jolted awake from a bucket of cold water to the face. Mild panic and anger washed over me for a fleeting moment and the loud noise of static returned to assault me.
“Alright, Romeo, I gotta get you out of here. You're really not dealing very well.” The voice was Cougen's.
In a daze, I couldn't respond to him, and he had to pull me by the arm to drag me out of the building. My eyes stayed locked mindlessly on the dark skinned mut until my view of her was blocked abruptly by the steel doors.

I stared there for a moment longer before turning to Cougen with confusion, “What—just happened?”
Cougen had already left the concrete steps and shrugged as I caught up with him, “I kinda lost you there, I think.” He looked at me with a wide grin, trying to fight off laughter, “What in the world—had you locking lips with that woman?”
What ever composure I had left--fell, “What!?”
“You were pretty into it, dude. I didn't know you were the kind of person to mack on strangers like that.” He jousted.
I wasn't certain if he was serious, or just joking around with me, “I'm not—I wasn't!”
“You were,” he replied in all seriousness, “So why? What was that all about?”
“I—I don't know, Seriously?” I blanched.
“Well, explain what you think happened then,” he replied coolly.
I scratched my jaw nervously, “Well, there was all this loud static—and then she made it really, really quiet. She was trying to say something, and I was just trying to get closer so that I could hear it.”
Listening to my own explanation made me realize how...ridiculous it was.
“You were confused,” Coug confirmed.
I shot him a cynical look, “No, really? What was all the noise?”
Cougen drew in a long breath, “well, muts—we all kind of have a sound. You know? Kinda like how people all have a distinct smell.” He looked at me, “You, for example—you sound like light rain. And I—apparently sound like some kind of a chime.”
“I didn't notice that,” I cut in, “You sound like a chime?”
He shrugged, “You've never heard the sound of a chime around me?”
“Only when in your shop.” I replied.
He smirked, “well, my shop has no chime. So there you go.”
I frowned, “Huh.”
“Anyways,” Cougen continued, “Those muts—are all there because most of them escaped some kind of abusive lifestyle—and need a safe haven to stay until they get their stuff together enough to go out on their own. They're all pretty traumatized—they all feel out of control to some degree. I guess, their 'sound' sort of reflects that—and when you have that many distressed muts in such a small area, you get that 'static' you were talking about. If you're not expecting it, it's pretty hard to shut it out. It's not a real sound—normal human beings can't hear it. It's in your head—so it probably messes with your mind pretty well when it's that intrusive. And that accounts for all the confusion you had back there.”
“Weird.” I replied flatly, “But what about the sudden silence and that lady?”
Cougen shrugged, “maybe silence is her sound. So when you focused on her, that's all you heard.”
“Well, there was a ringing, too,” I recalled.
“There you go.” Cougen replied curtly, “I keep thinking it was a bad idea to bring you there—but maybe not. It's a good experience for you.”
I wasn't entirely on the same page as him with this situation, “This wasn't my first time with a large group of muts,” I argued, “I spent the majority of my life with a group of them—and I've never experienced anything like that.”
“You were all blindfolded, weren't you?” Cougen asked.
I nodded and he replied, “then that's why. Turns out, if you can see each other, you can't 'hear' each other. It's one of those weird things—people are looking into with hopes to get more information. Did you finish reading that book I gave you?”
“Oh—” I shook my head, “Not yet, no.”
Cougen smirked, “Bernard explains it as some kind of low level telepathy. I think I told you about it before.”
I snorted, “Right.”
“You didn't believe me,” he nudged.
I tilted my head side to side skeptically, “Still not sure I do.”
“Stubborn ass,” Coug shot back with a smirk, “oh well, make up your own reasons for it then.”

It was an almost nightmarish experience—but I had already decided that I would return again... Be it curiosity, or foolishness, I felt like I needed to go back and figure out why things played out the way they did.
It was just—bizarre.

The events of the shelter occupied my mind for the rest of the day, and well into the next. It was good to have something unusual even mysterious to think about, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out what had really happened. For some reason, Cougen's explanation of 'telepathy' seemed ridiculous to me. But I was beginning to wonder if we had different ideas of what that meant.

I was hesitant to leave the house on my own, for fear that Averil might worry about my...whereabouts. I made certain that I assured her I wasn't going far. If there was one very good thing about the location of her house, it was that Jame's place was far on the other end of the city—and it was a major hassle to get there from her place.
After lunch, I decided to head out. I wanted to talk—really talk—to that lady I had encountered the day before. Maybe she'd be able to explain to me what happened. Or at the very least, share my confusion. Twenty minutes of transit and walking had me back in front of the red painted steel doors of the familiar building. I knew what to expect this time and took a deep breath before pulling open the door and entering.
I kept my eyes to the ground this time. The place was dead silent—but I could feel their stares on me. Between the static, and the strange silence, I didn't know which was more uncomfortable. But it was hard to find someone—when I was so hesitant to even look up. Lucky, I didn't really have to.

A pair of dark shoes entered my field of sight.
“You,” the feminine voice was unfamiliar, but I looked up anyways.
I was somewhat relieved to see who I was looking for, “you too,” I replied.
She stared at me expectantly and I shifted my weight from side to side awkwardly, “Can we—talk? Outside?”
Her eyes narrowed in a slender smile, “Of course.”
I was as if she had been waiting for my return. Without another word, she headed for the exit, and I followed. Once outside, I opened my mouth to speak, but she beat me to it.
“How gentlemanly of you to come back,” her voice was calm, deep, and smooth as cream, “I wasn't expecting that from a man who kisses a woman before even knowing their name, followed by an abrupt leave. Without even saying goodbye, none the less.”
I tried to swallow my discomfort, “I—that was more confusing for me than anyone else, believe me. I was hoping you'd be able to explain what that was all about—but I guess not. I could have sworn you were trying to tell me something.”
She gave me a bemused grin, “I just arrived here yesterday, Turu. I was every bit as confused as you. Don't worry about it. Don't even think anything of it.”
I furrowed my brow, “how do you know my name?”
Her expression faltered for a moment, “Most people know your name. It's not easy to miss, you know.”
I frowned feeling somewhat foolish, “oh, right.” I squinted at her curiously, “Then what's your name?”
“Jesse,” she replied, “and I know you. I know what you can do—for all of us.”
“Yeah?” I knew what tangent she was going to go off on. I'd already heard it before.
She picked up on my dismissive tone, and frowned at me, “don't take it lightly. I would do a lot of things to be in your position right now. You're the first step to our liberation, that's not something to shrug off.”
“I'm not shrugging it off,” I replied, “If it's a step towards our 'liberation'--it's a very small step. I'm a musician, not a political public speaker.”
Her frown deepened, “really? Are you that skeptical? Clearly you don't understand the weight of the situation then.”
I felt a pang of annoyance, “No, I understand it.”
“Then you understand that people treat us like animals?” She scoffed at me as if she figured I'd never been there or done that.
“I understand it first hand, Jesse.” I replied curtly. I didn't even know this lady, and she was scolding me. I didn't know if that took a strong, or overbearing personality. Maybe a bit of both. Either way, I wasn't certain I appreciated it very much.
“Do you understand how backwards that is?” She paused to hear my answer—but I bit my tongue and allowed her to continue, “Do you understand that they are the animals, and not us? They consider us 'less human'--but oh, we are so much more than them. We are above them in every way—except numbers. They outnumber us, and that's why they get away with treating us the way they do.” There was a lot of hostility in her voice and that alone put me on edge. It was a pretentious, and loaded opinion.
I tried to argue with her, “they don't all treat us like that. There are people doing studies in our favor, people looking out for us, and people recognizing the situation for what it is—ridiculous. I wouldn't depreciate them and their efforts with that kind of generalization.”
“You really think people care, hey?” She snorted a laugh, “alright then, we'll see how long that last.” She recollected her self, “listen, I'll find a way to claw my up to your position—where everyone knows me, and I can be heard. I will make sure everyone knows—we're better.” she stared at me with humorless eyes, “and you, I know you'll work to do the same. I'll be your shadow.”
I couldn't find much to say about that, “good luck, then.”
Jesse extended her hand to me, “Lets work together on this.”
Hesitantly, I took it and we shared a short shake, “sure.”
With a small smile, she let go to retreat back into the shelter. Before she closed the door behind her, she mentioned, “You sound like rain. It's kind of nice, actually.”
“You don't sound like—anything,” I replied.
She let out an indignant snort before letting the door close.

I wasn't certain I had even gained anything out of this.