"What the hell... What time is it?" I glance quickly at the vibrating phone, and anger immediately begins to boil inside me.


    Without warning, I grab the phone in one swift motion, my fingers barely responding. The loud ringtone tears through my groggy mind.


    "Three in the morning. When will this end?" I mutter aloud, not realizing I’m speaking, but forcing myself to calm down and answer the call.


    "Natalie, what’s wrong? Are you okay?" I ask, trying to shout over the blaring music in the background that stuns me for a moment but quickly pulls me into full alertness. Rubbing my temples, I prop myself up on one elbow, glancing out the window at the still-sleeping city.


    "Adeeelle! Woooohooo! It’s so much fun here! Come join us, everyone’s here!" Natalie’s drunken shouting blasts into my ear, making me hold the phone farther away to catch my breath and muster the last drops of patience. Drunk again, at the club again, and, of course, another late-night call.


    "Where are you? Are you okay?" I shout into the phone, trying to grab her attention. Sitting up in bed, I rub my eyes.


    "Two more tequila shots!" she yells, likely addressing the bartender and completely ignoring my question.


    "Are you kidding me?" My attempts to contain my anger fail, and I start to boil over. My question gets lost again in the hum of club music, and it seems Natalie has no intention of paying attention to me. "I’m hanging up right now!"


    "Oh, come on, don’t be such a buzzkill! Come over here, it’s so much fun, have a drink with me!" she yells into the phone again.


    "I’m so tired of your antics! How much longer can this go on? You’re destroying yourself, and dragging me down with you! Do you think you’re the only one struggling? I’m barely holding it together, but you don’t even let yourself try!" The words spill from my mouth faster than I can stop them. Exhaling, I try to suppress the flow of emotional, thoughtless words I know I’ll regret later.


    "Maybe this is how I’m coping," she shouts back after a moment, and I hear a sob in her voice. Taking a deep breath, I realize I have no right to judge her. I should have stayed silent.


    "Where are you now?" I ask, much calmer this time.


    "Spirit," she replies just as calmly.


    "I’ll be there in half an hour. Please, try not to get into any trouble before I arrive," I say, pulling on my jeans and ending the call. When will things return to normal? Although, come to think of it, is that even possible? Things will never be the same again.


    The cold wind brushes against my face, seeping under my collar. I shiver, feeling the chill seep into my bones. I can’t even understand why I keep doing this. Spotting two taxis on the main street, I feel momentary relief, as if they are a refuge from the biting cold of the night.


    "Good evening. To the Spirit club, please," I say tiredly as I get into the back seat. My voice sounds lifeless, as if all my strength has been drained just getting here.


    “Isn’t it a bit late for this?” the taxi driver asks with misplaced audacity. What business is it of his? Of course, it’s late. Far too late for all of this.


    “Mm,” I reply curtly. I have neither the energy nor the desire to argue. Let him think what he wants.


    The streets are completely empty, the city bathed in the soft, cold glow of streetlights. You’d think such quiet moments might be calming, but they only underscore just how exhausted I am by this endless nighttime circus. Cold air seeps into the car through a slightly open window, making me shiver again. Maybe I should’ve stayed home? But no. If I don’t do this, who will? We have no one else to rely on anymore.


    “We’re here,” the driver announces abruptly, slamming on the brakes 15 minutes later in front of the club. Bright lights blind me, music pounds so loud that the vibrations echo in my chest, and the entire scene makes me feel nauseous. I don’t want to be here, but I have to. Again. It’s just another meaningless routine. Tossing the driver some cash, I quickly make my way to the entrance.


    “You’re not getting in dressed like that!” A bald, hulking figure in a black blazer suddenly blocks my path, his arm barring the way. Why are guys like him always so cocky? He smirks, clearly reveling in his perceived authority.


    “I’m not here to party. I’m here to get my sister,” I say firmly, trying to ignore the sheer size of the bouncer. But inside, fear coils tightly in my chest. My hands betray me, trembling slightly.


    “I don’t care! You’re not coming in dressed like that,” he says, raising an eyebrow and stepping forward, effectively sealing off the door. Predictable. And yet, that predictability doesn’t make it any less infuriating when it gets in the way.


    “Fine! Then bring her out here!” I snap, not even sure what I’m hoping for. Unsurprisingly, he scoffs and shakes his head. “How am I supposed to get her out? I’ve been here before, and they always let me in,” I mutter, already realizing how pointless this is.


    “I don’t care,” he repeats, lifting his chin and averting his gaze as if I’ve ceased to exist. To him, I’m nothing more than background noise he can ignore.


    “Seriously, what’s wrong with you? I just need five minutes to grab my drunken sister, and then I’ll leave,” I step closer, trying to sound resolute, though I can hear the weakness in my own voice. It’s like one of those endless dreams where you scream but no one hears you.


    “You deaf or just pretending to be? I said it already—you’re not getting in dressed like that! Not my rule!” he barks, stepping aside momentarily to let a couple pass before waving me off dismissively.


    “For God’s sake!” I growl under my breath, veering off toward the club’s parking lot. Rage simmers beneath my skin, and as I struggle to steady my trembling hands, I pull out my phone and call Natalie. Predictably, she doesn’t answer. Why am I even surprised? It feels like the whole world is against me tonight.


    “Why the hell am I even here?!” I exclaim, letting my frustration spill out into the cold darkness of the parking lot.


    “Is everything okay?” a man’s voice suddenly calls out from behind me, and I flinch. A dark figure slowly approaches, his movements deliberate. Panic grips me, and I glance around, quickly calculating possible escape routes.


    “I’m fine,” I say sharply, stepping back instinctively as my heart pounds in my chest. Holding my breath, I try to mask my unease, as though that will somehow help.


    “Who were you yelling at?” he asks, his tone calm, almost curious. He tilts his head slightly, taking a drag from his cigarette. The smoke trails lazily into the air before he exhales through his nose without flinching. Why does he care? What difference does it make to him?


    “At myself,” I reply, squinting against the harsh light behind him, trying to make out his face.


    “Don’t you think that’s a little strange?” he asks, a corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile, as though he knows something I don’t.


    “And you don’t?” I retort, turning to walk in the opposite direction, making it clear I don’t want to continue this conversation.


    “Not at all!” he says after a brief pause, clearly deciding to prolong the interaction. “What happened? Maybe I can help.”


    “Oh, please. What do you want?” I snap, spinning around to face him. This time, I don’t bother hiding my distrust.


    “I told you, to help,” he replies, unfazed, taking another drag from his cigarette. His calm demeanor only irritates me further.


    “Why?” I ask, baffled by his nonchalance.


    “Because I can,” he says with a shrug, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.


    “For God’s sake, how ridiculous,” I mutter with a heavy sigh, trying to compose myself. But the truth is, I have no other options. I can’t just leave Natalie inside and walk away. “Fine. I need to get inside and fetch my drunk sister, but that thick-headed bouncer won’t let me in because I’m dressed like this,” I explain, gesturing at my outfit with more frustration than necessary. I know my irritation is less about the bouncer and more about the fact that my life has become one big disappointment.


    “That, I can definitely help with,” he says confidently, raising an eyebrow slightly.


    “How?” I ask, staring at him in disbelief.


    “My brother owns this club,” he smirks mischievously, pointing at the building behind him. Then, flicking his half-smoked cigarette to the ground, he extends a hand toward me. “Come on, I’ll get you in.”


    Before I fully realize what I’m doing, I take his hand and follow him without resistance.


    “Donley, this girl is with me. Remember her face, and next time, even if she’s wearing a trash bag, let her through, understood?” His voice is confident, and I can see the guard’s expression change. The brute eyes me intently, raising an eyebrow, then nods and steps aside, allowing us through.


    “Got it, sir,” the bald fool replies, sounding like a little puppy.


    The entrance door lights up the guy’s face. His lips spread into a smile as he turns to me, but his eyes… there’s so much in them: sadness, despair, alcohol, and something else I can’t quite identify. After we walk through the corridor, he lets go of my hand.


    “Do you believe me now? I told you I could help,” he smiles again, but his eyes remain melancholic. Why does that smile seem so fake? But that shouldn’t concern me.


    “Thank you. What do I owe you for your help?” I ask too quietly, still staring into his eyes.


    “Nothing! I know how troublesome siblings can be. Good luck with your search!” He salutes me and suddenly turns away, walking off.


    The music blasts so loudly that my eardrums pulse as soon as I step onto the dance floor. At the bar, a crowd is gathered, shouting and elbowing each other. Her long white hair, tied in a tight ponytail, immediately helps me spot Natalie. She’s at the bar, talking to some drunk guy who’s definitely taking liberties.


    “Natalie!” I pull her sharply away from the bar and turn her toward me.


    “Ohhh, Adele!” She immediately throws herself at me and hugs me, and I feel all the tension drain away, the worry for her disappearing. “You finally made it! Let’s have a drink?” She screams in my ear, and I immediately catch the sharp scent of alcohol mixed with cigarette smoke.


    “No! I need to be at the office tomorrow. Well, today, actually,” I push her away to breathe in whatever fresh air there is in this place.


    “How boring, ugh!” Natalie looks at me with clear disdain. It’s the first time I’ve seen her look at me like that.


    “Let’s go!” I pull her by the hand, scanning the crowd for an exit. Why does everything always turn into a struggle when I try to save her? It’s like she’s deliberately trying to harm herself, and I’m forced to fight back, even when she’s asking for help.


    “Noo,” Natalie whines like a child, “I want to keep dancing. Just look at all these handsome guys.”


    “Are you doing this on purpose? Always pushing me to the edge? Let me remind you, you’ve got Patrick,” I say tiredly through clenched teeth.


    “So what? He won’t find out.” Natalie yanks herself out of my grip, spins around, and, trying to walk away, crashes into a guy standing behind her. Seriously? Barely managing to stay on her feet, she grabs him and hangs on. The guy wastes no time, dropping his hands onto her behind and pulling her closer.


    “Hey! Are you out of your mind?” I shout, trying to pry his hands off of Natalie. He gives me a haughty look, but ignoring him, I continue tugging Natalie toward me. “I said, get your hands off!” In an instant, he lets go of Natalie and pulls me to him instead.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    His hands slide over my waist, grossly, and immediately drop down to my backside, gripping me as deeply as possible, moving dangerously close to my crotch.


    “Get your hands off me, you idiot!” I scream, struggling to break free from his strong hold. In response, he smirks, and the sharp stench of alcohol, with a bitter aftertaste, hits my nose. My heart tightens with fear—his gaze is clouded, tense, and it’s clear he’s not just drunk. I glance around, hoping for help, but Natalie is just standing aside, giggling. What’s going on? Why is she acting so strangely?


    “You like this? Huh? You’re feisty! I’m all for it, love girls like you!” His hand squeezes my behind, the other sliding over my chest, loosening and tightening around it. “Let’s have some fun, I’m already hard!”


    “I said, get your hands off me, jerk!” I yell, kicking harder.


    Confusion and anxiety start building inside me, and I realize that my body is stiffening, unable to resist anymore. I need to do something, urgently. In a panic, I jerk forward and bite down on his ear, clenching my jaw so hard that a metallic taste fills my mouth. Surprised, he pulls his hands away and starts yelling.


    “You! Bitch! You bit my ear!”


    “Go to hell!” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and glance around for Natalie, hoping to escape this nightmare.


    Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the psycho taking a few swift steps toward me.


    “You’re dead! You’ll regret this, bitch!” He swings his fist. I barely manage to dodge, moving sideways. The second blow follows immediately. That’s when someone grabs his arm.


    The idiot spins around to see who dared to stop him. A fight breaks out—blows fly one after another. I stand frozen, as if my legs are glued to the floor. Fear paralyzes me, squeezing my chest in a cold grip. Everything happening around me feels like it’s in slow motion: flashes of fury on faces, tense bodies, dull thuds. Where’s the security? Two strong guys in black T-shirts jump out of the crowd, clearly bouncers. But as soon as they spot who’s turning the bar into a wreck, it’s like they lose all their energy. Their resolve evaporates before my eyes. Why aren’t they stepping in? What the hell is going on here?!


    Amid the chaos, I hear shouting, and it dawns on me that the guy who brought me here and his brother are involved in the fight. The bastard who groped me—that’s the club owner?! I watch as the creep lands blow after blow, aiming for the face of my new acquaintance. He doesn’t hold back, but it looks like his strikes are a bit gentler, as though he’s not trying to seriously hurt him. The punches keep coming, both men taking hits to their faces, unable to dodge. Their faces are already covered in blood, but neither one shows signs of stopping. Not knowing what’s driving me, I grab a glass from the bar and, with a swing, smash it right over the jerk’s head. The impact causes him to lose his balance, and he slumps to the floor, clutching his head as if trying to muffle the pain.


    In silence, all eyes in the room, from the bartender to the onlookers, shift toward me. Even my new acquaintance, who was just in the thick of it, pauses for a moment, turning toward me. He raises his eyebrows in surprise, but there’s no anger in his eyes.


    “Take him to the VIP room!” the brunette commands, pointing to his brother for the guards. His voice is cold, sharp, like the edge of a knife, cutting through the silence that has fallen. “And tell Steve to treat his wounds.”


    The bouncers nod quickly and obey calmly, as though this situation is so routine for them that it doesn’t even raise the slightest surprise. Inside me, everything tightens from fear and exhaustion, but I try to keep myself together. I mustn’t let them see how badly I’m trembling.


    “You’ll pay for this, bitch! You’re gonna die!” The jerk yells, barely coming back to his senses. His words are like poison, sinking under my skin and making my heart beat faster.


    “Shut up, Alec. You won’t lay a finger on her!” My savior says it with such quiet confidence that I can’t help but believe every word. This is the second time tonight that he’s standing up for me. I feel like I owe him now.


    “What’s everyone staring at? The show’s over, you’re all free to go!” He waves his hand at the crowd, and the music starts up again, as if nothing happened.


    “Are you okay?” His voice pulls me back to reality. He looks at me with concern, trying to stop the blood that’s running down from my brow and into my right eye.


    “Yeah,” I nod more than speak, the words getting caught in my throat, as if I’m afraid that if I say too much, I’ll start crying. “And you?” I gesture at his split eyebrow and lip. He looks like pain is a constant companion for him. That look… it makes me feel weak.


    “I’m fine. I’m used to it,” he frowns, as if this is something not worth talking about.


    “Can I help? At least clean your wounds…” I almost beg, feeling an overwhelming need to do something for him, like it’s my way of regaining some control in this chaos. I step closer, trying to catch his gaze, but he looks somewhere else, tense and almost frozen.


    For a moment, it seems like he’ll refuse, but then, with a barely noticeable nod, he agrees. In that moment, I see his armor crack slightly, revealing something fragile and vulnerable beneath.


    I quickly scan the room and spot Natalie. As if nothing happened, she’s sitting at the bar, flirting with another guy. Her laughter echoes in my soul like a painful reminder. This person no longer resembles my sister. We used to be so close, but now I see a stranger in front of me. How did it come to this? I sigh heavily and look away from her.


    “Where’s the bathroom?” I ask, trying to make my voice sound firm, despite the tremor in my hands. I need to do something to shake off this helpless feeling, to regain a sense of control, if only for a moment.


    “Over there!” he says, pointing to a dark corridor with neon lighting. I follow him, trying not to get too close but also not fall behind.


    In the bathroom, I find some tissues and dampen them with water. The guy, looking drained, slowly slides his back down the wall and sits down on the floor. I gently touch his eyebrow with my finger to find the wound and notice how his face tenses. I can see him holding back the pain, but it still seeps through every movement, every glance.


    “Now, I’m going to clean the wound, it will hurt,” I say, bringing the damp tissue closer to his face. He just nods in response and shuts his eyes. I try to be as gentle as possible, but every time I touch his skin, he flinches. I can feel his tension, and it only makes me more nervous.


    “Thank you,” I unexpectedly say aloud, my voice softer than I expected.


    Suddenly, we’re interrupted by an annoyed voice from a woman standing in the doorway:


    “This is the ladies’ room!” She clings to the door, trying not to fall.


    “Close the door from the other side!” I say sharply, surprised by my own firmness. She snorts but, not wanting to argue, slams the door. I feel irritation rising inside me but quickly squash it.


    “Wow! You’re so bossy. Though, at this point, I’m not surprised by anything after everything that’s happened,” he smirks, looking down. “You don’t need to thank me. This shouldn’t have happened,” he adds after a brief pause. “I should be apologizing for my brother. Like I said, sometimes it’s really hard with siblings.”


    I just nod in response, feeling words stick in my throat.


    “Your eyes… They remind me of someone,” he says suddenly, with clear interest, as if trying to decipher something in my gaze.


    “Who?” I pull my hands away from his face, meeting his intense look. One of his eyes is bloodshot from the hit, and the sight fills me with an inexplicable sense of pity.


    “Someone I loved very much,” he says, smiling sadly. “And still love. I don’t understand why people say ‘loved’ in the past tense when talking about the deceased. Our love for them doesn’t disappear just because they’re gone,” a flicker of pain crosses his eyes, and he closes them, running a hand through his hair, slightly messing it up, trying to hide his emotions and put the familiar calm back on his face.


    “I agree,” I nod briefly. “Does it hurt?” He winces again as I start cleaning his lip.


    “Not as much as I’d like it to,” he says, touching his chest with his hand, before his fingers lightly brush my cheek, sending shivers down my spine. “Is this your blood?”


    “No.”


    He simply nods in response. After a brief silence, I decide to continue:


    “Time should help heal the wounds—both the external ones and the internal ones.” After thinking for a moment, I add, “I believe in that. Otherwise, we’d all drown in our grief.”


    I almost feel like I’m saying this to myself, trying to convince myself that hope still exists, that everything isn’t lost, and that time really can heal.


    “I’m not so sure about that anymore,” he says sadly, looking down at his hands. “Because I’ve gotten lost, in the most literal sense. The pain’s been here for too long. I think some wounds can’t be healed, especially the ones you inflict on yourself,” there’s a heaviness in his voice, as if he’s been carrying this burden for a long time.


    “One must learn to forgive oneself. Otherwise, life turns into an endless darkness that will consume everything, even the good things that could have been and still will be,” I try to encourage him, though I feel how empty my words sound, as if I doubt their truth myself.


    “You don’t know what I’ve done,” he suddenly looks up, letting out a hoarse laugh, but his dark blue eyes—like a stormy sky—are filled with pain.


    “Did you do it on purpose?” I ask, feeling a bit flustered by his intense gaze, stepping back.


    “Of course not!” Fury flares up in his eyes, replacing the confusion.


    “Then you should try to accept it and forgive yourself,” I say more quietly than I intended, realizing that these words were meant for me as well.


    “How did I end up having a therapy session, sitting on the cold tile in a ladies’ room after stepping out for a smoke?” he says with a smirk, but winces from the pain in his lip.


    “Maybe this meeting was meant for both of us,” I quietly reply, gazing at his face.


    The wounds are cleaned now, and I can leave, retrieve Natalie, and finally head home. Maybe I’ll even manage to take a quick nap.


    “It’s done. You should apply some ice, and I need to go. I hope you’ll handle all of this,” I say, rising to my feet, taking a step toward the door. But an inexplicable feeling makes me stop and turn around. There’s something about this guy that draws me in, even though I’m not ready to admit it to myself.


    “My father always told me that everyone has something in this world they are absolutely not proud of. And it’s very important to learn to love yourself, even knowing that you’re not perfect, just like everyone else in this world. Sometimes we’d do this… trick. I’d close my eyes and imagine walking into my childhood room, approaching my younger self, and saying everything I wished I’d heard from adults and parents back then. And also forgiving that little girl for all the mistakes she would still make. The most important thing is to understand that the adult we so desperately need, the one whose forgiveness we wait for, is actually ourselves. And you know, it always worked. I could forgive that little girl for everything and try to protect her from all the things she would have to go through, telling her how truly wonderful she was.”


    I quickly blink, trying to push away the image of my father that has appeared right in front of my eyes. The guy silently watches me, as though he can’t believe what he’s hearing.


    “Now you seem even more unreal!” he says, eyeing me from head to toe. “And your dad seems like an amazing guy, judging by what you just said.”


    “Yes, my dad is…” I stop, tilting my head back, trying to suppress the tears that are welling up. Everything inside me tightens, and I force myself not to give in to this feeling. “I have to go. But still, thank you, and take care of yourself.”


    “You too,” he waves his hand, giving me another salute, then turns his gaze thoughtfully toward the wall, clearly lost in his thoughts.


    I head back to the bar, and immediately spot Natalie sitting next to Patrick.


    I walk quickly toward them, feeling the tension building inside me. To my surprise, Patrick, glancing at me over Natalie’s shoulder, meets my gaze with a wide smile. This unexpected gesture makes me pause for a moment. Usually, his gaze is cold, full of undisguised hatred, as if my very existence inconveniences him.


    I’ve never understood what I did to deserve this treatment. Patrick has always treated me with sarcastic disdain, as though I’m not worth his time or attention.


    Then again, I never found the time or desire to dwell on it. His opinion of me mattered less than anything else, just background noise that you get used to and stop noticing. Whatever he thought of me was his problem, not mine.


    “Adele, I’m so glad to see you!” Patrick spreads his arms in a welcoming gesture. I ignore him and walk straight toward Natalie.


    “Are you coming or staying here?”


    “You’re leaving? I thought you were having fun!” Natalie’s gaze becomes more focused, but she looks nervous.


    “Having fun? I was just groped by a drunken jerk while trying to protect you! And you didn’t lift a finger to help me!” The words spill out in fury.


    “Whoa, girls, what’s going on here without me?” Patrick interjects.


    “Get lost!” I snap at him. “So, are you coming or not? I’m not staying here any longer!” I look directly at Natalie.


    “Drink some water, I got you one. You’ve got blood on your lips,” instead of answering, Natalie hands me a glass of soda. I’m so angry I could explode, but my throat is dry, and the taste of blood on my tongue won’t leave.


    “Do what you want, I’m leaving,” I say, downing the glass in one go. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and turn sharply toward the exit, not wanting to stay there for another second.


    Suddenly, Patrick grabs me and hugs me, leaving me confused by his unexpected gesture.


    “What the hell are you doing?” I push him away.


    “I’m just thankful that you’re helping Natalie while I’m not around,” he smirks. His words sound insincere, and I don’t believe a word of it.


    “Mhm,” I turn and start walking toward the exit again. But suddenly, my legs turn to jelly, and the walls of the bar, like everything around me, start spinning, as if in slow motion. “What’s happening to me?” The words come out quietly, barely audible, my lips barely moving.


    Patrick and Natalie rush to me immediately. I feel their hands steadying me, not letting me fall, but my legs won’t obey. All I can do is let them practically carry me, my steps turning into unsteady, dragging movements.


    “Put her here,” Patrick yells, ripping open a door.


    “Help me, she’s heavy,” I can barely make out Natalie’s voice, as if it’s coming from far away.


    “Hurry up, before anyone notices. Undress her!” His voice is muffled, but clear enough to make my heart clench. I try to move my arms, but it’s hopeless. Panic rises inside me, but my body doesn’t respond. Darkness starts closing in. “Pull her pants down! Faster! What kind of idiot are you? Here, hold the phone, I’ll do it myself,” I feel hands pulling my clothes off roughly. I try to resist with all my might, but my consciousness sinks into total darkness.


    Moments later, I start to become aware of what’s happening. I feel some foul breath on my skin.


    “Here you are. I’ve been looking for you!” A man’s voice cuts sharply through the darkness. I don’t understand anything, my attempts to fight back are useless, and I fall into utter blackness once again.