Zavere

Heidi’s face twisted in agony, wincing, as she sat up on the bed.

She screamed, her legs bent and arms stretched in front of her. The painful sensation pulsing beneath her skin was unbearable, her palms and knees burning as if greeted by fire.

And the more she screamed, the more each pulse sent sharp stings up her limbs with an intensity that threatened to tear her limbs inside and out. Even breathing felt like torture.

Zavere, hearing the screams, barged into the room and sat beside her on the bed. His hand gently wrapped her wrist while the other rested softly on her leg—a touch meant to snap her out of her turmoil.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” he murmured in a low and soothing voice. Then he leaned closer and locked his eyes onto her teary ones. But the girl—screaming, freaking out, her vision blurred with tears—stared ahead of her without registering Zavere’s presence.

In a swift motion, the man tenderly held her chin and turned her face toward him. “Hey, look into my eyes,” he urged;