The first light of dawn, coming through the window, awakens Azeneth.

  ―Finally you've woken up. You must help me clean up this mess before Victor opens the office ―she hears Carlota speaking.

  Azeneth blinks, barely regaining consciousness. The help with the alleged prisoner had lasted until very late at night. She doesn't even remember when she fell asleep.

  Still drowsy, her eyes, getting used to the light and the illuminated room, distinguish Carlota, who comes and goes. She reproaches without thinking:

  ―If the doctor has four arms, why doesn't he clean himself?

  Her own words make her react, she stands up suddenly and almost slips with the blood on the floor. Carlota has stopped and is looking at her, more incredulous than indignant.

  ―Because he's not here. And because he has more important things to use his hands on. And because that's why he has an assistant, but since you've been very accommodating since yesterday ―a certain poison escapes between her words― now it's going to be your turn to clean up.

  ―I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I said it without thinking ―she replies embarrassedly, looking sideways for what to do.

  ―All that's missing is the floor. Hurry up ―the other replies, handing her the mop.

  ―Yes, I'm sorry ―Carlota rolls her eyes. Azeneth reminds herself not to apologize too much and keeps quiet.

  She feels Carlota is particularly harsh with her, and it seems strange, because she thought that after what happened at Eugenio's house she had softened a little with her, but the kindness didn’t last long.

  The stretcher is empty.

  ―Does he... ―Azeneth leaves the question in the air.

  ―He's still alive... If he hadn't been lucky enough to bump into Victor on his way, he could be dead. But who knows if he will survive. We just can't have it here in the office, he's in your room now. And you'll stay with me.

  ―Ah... It's not necessary, I can sleep in the living room.

  ―Don't be silly ―she is waiting with her arms crossed, Azeneth is feeling tense from the gaze she still directs her and just continues cleaning.

  She is about to leave the office for a tub of clean water when Carlota tells her:

  ―Victor already told me that you're going to stay with that crazy woman inside you.

  ―Oh, yes. I decided yesterday that-

  ―Do you know what you're getting into? ―she interrupts her. She sounds annoyed.

  ―I know.

  ―No, you don't know.

  ―I know that woman hurt you, but-

  ―That's not the problem... the best thing for you would be to get rid of it and go home once and for all and have a normal life again.

  ―... I-I... I've never had a normal life.

  ―You know what I'm talking about.

  ―If you don't want me here-

  ―That’s not the problem either! What do you want to keep her for? What? Are you going to listen to Victor and use her as your pet? Jesus. You don't have to do what he says, Victor always expects too much from people.

  Ah, that's it, she doesn't think you can handle her.

  ―I'm going to... I'm going to do my best... to control her.

  Carlota doesn't answer, she just turns around annoyed.

  ―Don't say I didn't warn you. Better for me, so soon my obligation to carry you everywhere to protect you is over.

  Azeneth is deeply uncomfortable with Carlota's attitude, and the days they've spent together have given her the confidence to respond as she responds when she's uncomfortable:

  ―As if your protection were of any use ―she instantly regrets saying it but, instead of apologizing, she runs away, she doesn't even look at the result of her comment, but can guess it.

  She can't run away. Just at that moment Victor enters.

  He had gone to check Eugenio's house.

  ―Victor! ―Carlota approaches, waiting for him to speak.

  But he, taciturn as always, doesn’t give much explanation.

  ―I’ve called the police... they will find the bodies and take care of them...

  His niece slumps her shoulders, disappointed, as if she still has hope that one of them was alive.

  ―Don't get in the middle of a deal again ―Victor tells her.

  ―You’ve done it ―she reproaches him.

  ―And I analyze the situation well before doing it. Don't disturb a deal again, because you don't have the experience to face someone like that Toutas.

  This time Carlota doesn’t argue, she only nods.

  ―Did Atálaro behave well with you? ―he asks, addressing both.

  ―Yes. Kind of...

  ―Don’t consider yourselves indebted to him... Here ―he gives Carlota the bag she had left in the living room of that house.

  ―Ah! Thank you! ―without wasting time, she pulls out her phone―. Oh, Gloria has been calling me, we were to see each other yesterday. Well, it doesn't matter.

  Victor speaks to Azeneth.

  ―Follow me. Let's talk about that woman.

  He walks to the backyard and sits in a rocking chair inviting Azeneth, with a wave of his hand, to sit down as well.

  ―Did she bother you tonight while you were sleeping? ―he asks, bluntly.

  ―No, but... well... I didn’t sleep well...

  Victor leans back in the rocking chair and puts his fingers together, formulating his speech.

  ―... It’s a great responsibility, if I offer you this opportunity it’s because I believe you can handle it.

  ―Me?

  ―Yes.

  ―Well... I guess I think I can, too...

  ―What we’ll do next will hardly be reversed, so you must be sure.

  Azeneth takes a breath, while thinking. And she says:

  ―Yes, I am sure.

  ―Fine. I’ll put a seal on you, so she can live freely within you, without hurting you, without hurting anyone out here. Your challenge will be to be able to control her inside and be able to force her to lend you her powers. Carlota will help you. It's not something you'll achieve overnight. In fact, summer vacations will not be enough for you. Once back in your city I will put you in touch with a couple of people who can continue to advise you, and you can call and come back whenever you need to.

  ―I understand.

  ―She, from what I see, can enter people's minds. It will be up to you what you decide to do with it. But if I'm helping you, it's because I hope you'll decide to do something good, something useful.

  ―Yes, that's right. I don’t intend to use it for evil. I've done bad enough with taking someone's life.

  Victor pauses.

  ―Actually, to be exact, she's not dead. When you went to the door, did Azael explain to you what the essence of life is?

  ―Oh, well, he didn't call it by that name, but he told me about that thing that united soul and body.

  ―Exactly. That woman is united to your life essence. Formally she isn’t dead, but she isn’t alive either. She will live through you, she is now a helpless being, don't be cruel to her, she is a human being, not a tool. But don't forget the evil that is in her, don't let her manipulate you, or mix your existence with her, because you could well end up doing her will, believing you are acting on your own. She will live through you, as I said, and you will share your life with her. That means you'll never be alone. This can be both an advantage and a disadvantage, you must learn to live with it.

  ―I will.

  ―Good. That's all. I'll seal her tonight.

  ―Tonight?

  ―Yes. Don't worry about it. It will be something very simple, very fast.

  ―Oh, ok.

  ―You'll be fine, I assure you.

  ―Thank you.

  ―Now go and help Carlota to finish cleaning.

  ―Yes.

  Azeneth gets up but doesn't move.

  ―Doctor...

  The doctor looks at her, waiting for her to speak.

  ―Carlota tried hard yesterday... in se?or Eugenio's house. I know she couldn't stop what happened, but she tried with all her might. Atálaro had to drag her out of there, literally.

  ―I know ―Victor tells her.

  ―Eeh... she... I think she thinks you're disappointed.

  ―She’s wrong.

  Victor averts his gaze slightly, as if thinking, but Azeneth can't decipher his face.

  ―I understand. I'll leave then, thank you for everything.

  *

  Years before, Didier was hidden behind a gate, bleeding. A bullet had pierced his shoulder. It was the first time he had been shot, and he didn't feel well at all. But there was no time for pain, because he had to guard the entrance of a huge building where they were doing an order.

  For a couple of months, he, along with Salvador and René, had been dedicating their days off to doing work on their own. Didier was the one who made the deals, and Salvador and René oversaw almost everything, so during their "orders" he only had to watch their backs. It seemed like a simple thing, but that didn't make it any less a responsibility.

  They had decided to start with small orders, not far from the town next to the Mountain where they spent their breaks. Didier was sure that with those two, it would be easy and quick to make a good reputation. He estimated that, in a year or two, they would be able to leave the ranch and go wherever they wanted.

  And indeed, everything had gone as planned, until that day. They knew that at some point they would be lied to about the level of risk, and this had been their first experience in such a situation.

  Things hadn't gone very well. Although everything seemed under control, René and Salvador, who had gone up to the upper floors to look for their target, had already taken too long. Down there where Didier was, enemies had not stopped appearing and although he had gotten rid of them all, one of them had hit that bullet in his shoulder.

  His ear, already well trained, heard noises above. He was sure things were more complicated there. He thought about going upstairs to help them. The plan said he shouldn't get involved, but the plan wasn't working very well.

  René was very good at getting rid of enemies with those wings he carried, but they only needed an accurate bullet to get rid of him, and Salvador would be an ace at shooting, but he was not the best at confrontations. Simply put, the two of them were good at killing stealthily, from a distance, but in a situation like this, where their presence was already known, they were just as much in danger as he was.

  Come on, asshole, you must go up and help them.

  Determined, Didier took a couple of steps and then fell to the ground on his face, without strength. He leaned on one hand to get up and only managed to sit up a little. He looked back and saw the pool of blood on the ground where he had been standing. He felt bad, very bad.

  But it's just a shot, in the shoulder. It can't be that serious.

  He tried to get up again and cursed loudly when he didn't succeed.

  He heard noises outside. A vehicle.

  Shit, this can’t be happening.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  He played dead for a long time. He didn't hear them enter, but it was logical, since they would do so stealthily. Would they be many?

  This was the first time Didier feared for his life. Besides, although he refused to accept it, he feared for the lives of the other two. He didn't want René to die, because he considered him the key to his future success, and he didn't want Salvador to die because he was the glue that bound the relationship between the three of them, and also, although he refused to accept it, he had come to have a lot of esteem for him, whom he already considered a good friend.

  A dull explosion jolts him out of his thoughts, and the sound of something slimy falling to the ground instantly relieves him. He recognized that noise, it was the noise he heard every time René blew someone's head off.

  Felt confident to get up a little. To his right, just a few meters from him, two bodies lie on the ground, one of them barely touching the floor, and after scrutinizing a little he finally sees him, hidden near the stairs.

  Didier felt a force lift him up and a chill ran down his spine. He was able to have contact, for the first time, with René's invisible hand, which lifted him up and dragged him to a hidden corner. The hand was larger than an average hand, he could feel his huge thumb under his armpit. And, after releasing him, he could swear that a touch of feathers stirred the air near him, moving slowly, as if in slow motion, as if they had lengthened time. Inexplicably, that gave him peace, made him feel safe.

  A couple of minutes passed until René had the confidence to get closer.

  ―I knew it was you; I just heard that plop I always hear when you do your thing and I said: it's René.

  René, without answering, squats in front of him and touches his wound, checking him roughly. Didier holds back a scream.

  ―I don't know what the hell is going on, it's just a bullet, it didn't hit me in any organ, but I can't move.

  ―It went through some important artery, perhaps. Miraculously, you're not dead yet.

  ―Ah ―he didn't understand what he meant. It sounded bad.

  René then extended the entire palm of his hand over Didier’s shoulder, and he felt a sudden relief, as if he had been injected with a drug.

  ―What are you doing? ―he asked, astonished.

  ―I'm healing you a little. I hope to at least stop the bleeding.

  He held his hand there for a while longer, then moved it and sat down next to him, both hiding in that corner.

  Didier was still unwell but, in fact, the bleeding had stopped, and he was able to lean on his arms to sit on the wall, next to René.

  ―I didn't know... that you could do that too.

  René didn't answer, he hadn't even looked at him since he arrived. Thinking about it, Didier realized they had never been alone and it was the first time they had exchanged more than two words without Salvador's mediation. Sometimes he even felt that there was a certain antipathy between them.

  Oh, Salvador.

  ―And Salvador?

  ―He's upstairs, everything is already under control over there. He said he would manage it and told me to come and see if you were okay.

  ―Oh, damn it, I was the one supposed to protect your back. All this went very bad. For the misery they’re going to pay us for this.

  ―I'm going to kill that asshole who hired us.

  Didier laughed, because he thought he didn't mean it. René never laughed, so he didn't know if he was joking or not.

  Time passed, and he became more and more nervous that Salvador wouldn’t come down, even though René had told him that everything was under control and was very calm sitting there waiting in silence, standing up from time to time, looking at nothing.

  It occurred to Didier that trying to talk would help him to distract, he didn’t expect cooperation from the other, but he told him:

  ―What else you can do? Turning water into wine? No?

  As expected, René didn’t answer, so he continued talking.

  ―The things I would do if I had received a miracle like that... because- Can I ask you a question? Don't get angry, but honestly... you just saved my life... Haven't you thought about doing something else? I mean... you could be helping people instead of shooting with us and swimming in all this shit... Why are you and Salvador here?... Could... you could be a doctor, I think, and to cure people...

  He paused because he didn’t have his ideas in order, and while he was arranging them, René surprisingly replied:

  ―I go where the stream takes me. The stream brought me here. If you go with the flow, you always get to the darkest places. And I don't intend to swim against it, it's not worth the effort.

  Didier was left thinking. For the second time, René's voice surprised him.

  ―And what are you doing here?

  ―Me? Meh, I just bring bread to the table.

  They heard someone coming down the stairs with strong steps, and a singular laugh echoed in the great hall. Without a doubt he was Salvador.

  They saw him appear with the corpse of their target dragged and his weapon in the other hand.

  ―Where are you? ―he shouted recklessly, looking for them with his eyes―. Have they already killed you or what? ―he laughed again and fired a few shots in the air.

  René got up and walked towards him. Didier felt that hand surround him again and slide him gently across the floor.

  ―Oh, no ―Salvador said as soon as he saw him.

  He ran over.

  ―What an asshole you are, how did they shoot you.

  ―Not only did they shoot me, but they also almost killed me.

  Salvador continued to insult him as checked him carefully.

  For some childish reason that he didn’t understand, Didier felt the need to receive attention, so he grimaced. although since René touched him, the pain had only decreased.

  ―My first shot.

  ―Fuck, when will I get mine? ―Salvador replied―. Does it hurt?

  ―A fucking lot. But René has given me a hand.

  Salvador smiled and patted him on the other shoulder.

  ―You'll be fine. We're out of here soon.

  He sighed and sat down on the floor, relaxing his shoulders.

  ―There was a lot of drama here, wasn't there? ―he said, turning around.

  René was standing next to the corpse and turning him with his foot to look at his face. Salvador said to him:

  ―We must hang him around, go for the money and never make deals with that bastard again.

  ―He must be killed.

  ―Who?

  ―The client.

  ―Are you stupid?

  ―He has disrespected us. We'll kill him and everyone will think twice before going too clever with us.

  Salvador and Didier fell silent.

  Didier didn't dare say no to René. And, in fact, he wanted to do the same.

  Even years after that incident, and after so many things that happened, Didier could never live with the contradiction between the candid and pure touch of those wings and the death René dragged with them.

  *

  At dusk, Azeneth goes to her grandfather's house to water the plants, just as her mother had ordered.

  She was allowed to go out without Carlota, for the first time. Gradually, Victor told her, he would give her more freedom, as long as things were kept under control. After all, nothing strange had happened since the doctor kept the woman inside her, except, of course, for that strange dream, which now seemed to Azeneth a simple nightmare that, however, motivated her to decide once and for all.

  The plants were so droopy that she realizes that, with the summer weather, she should come and water them every day.

  After taking a detour around the house, she sits on the floor of the porch, where the air blows in enough to refresh her a little, less than she would like. Even though the sun has already set, the heat is still intense.

  She is no longer afraid of that house. She feels that years have passed since she arrived in the town, because of all the things that have happened.

  Her cell phone rings. It’s her mother, who has barely answered the message she sent her in the morning reporting back, and has responded with a photo of her siblings. It's the first time Azeneth has seen them since that night she ran away from home. Suddenly she remembers how much she loves them and the fact of returning no longer seems so horrible to her. They are smiling and posing for the camera. Did your mother tell them that the photo was for you? Are they smiling at you?

  She lies on the floor. It's cold, luckily.

  She's nervous about what will happen tonight, even though Victor told her it would be quick and simple. She doesn't know if Carlota will also be there. It saddens her that the friendship between them has ended like this, but she has already resigned herself to the fact that this friendship never existed and that the best thing she can do for the rest of her stay in that house is to have a cordial relationship and not make her angry since, after all, Carlota's character is becoming heavier and more incompatible with hers every day. She is the type of person who should not be known the hard way. Yesterday had been her last attempt to regain her sympathy. It was close, she thinks.

  She looks at the ceiling, thinking about these things. The air is no longer a hot gust and the sky has turned dark blue. She is tired, she slept little and has spent the morning cleaning, and the rest of the day she had no rest because of her nerves.

  Without intending to, she falls asleep.

  You were in your bed. Your bed. At home. Your siblings were not there and their empty beds in the bunk looked at you from the back of the room, with the sheets messed up and full of toys. It was cold, very cold. You looked up and there was no roof, just a huge circular hole, bigger even than the roof itself because you could see the entire parade of stars in the sky. It was night, and you were spinning under the vault of heaven, and the Milky Way was as vivid as that night you visited the gate. There was no moon, or you couldn't see it. But it illuminated you, the moon illuminated you, or perhaps some star bathed your body with blue jets, reflections of an icy sun that didn’t exist because in your dream there was no room for the day. And all was silent. The silence was so great that you could hear the sound of your heart. You turned to look at it, and your chest was open. Your heart exposed, your bed was not your bed but the metal plate of an operating room. It was the cold metal that soaked your bones and made you shiver. And your heartbeat sounded loudly and with each beat you felt your blood move and the blood was hot and your body was cold, every time the heart contracted the blood went back and forth a little, heavy and thick, and your veins danced in and out of your body stretching like tentacles, slow and clumsy, and your flesh received them gladly, soft and malleable, and your bones, the hollow formed by your ribs, was nothing more than a flask whose neck advanced to your throat, hard and rigid, keeping your heart within it. Or rather said, the heart.

  And you there, motionless... the receptacle of that lively web of arteries.

  She was there. The woman. She was peeking out, from somewhere. You saw her face, but you didn't see it. Actually, you did see it, you just couldn't remember it when you woke up.

  You saw her for the first time. And she... she had already seen you, she had seen you when she rummaged through your memories and she had seen you when you saw yourself in the mirror.

  And she had spoken to you and you had answered her.

  But you had never communicated.

  This time, it was you who was addressing her. And since it was a dream, in your dream you were brave and didn’t hesitate or have to think twice before speaking. And because you were in the dream world, you understood things about yourself that were not within your reach when you were waking, things that you could not remember later. But you remember your words:

  ―I'll let you stay.

  ―I know ―she answered, and her voice... it really seemed to come from a grave. You were the grave.

  ―I will treat you with respect. And if you behave well, we could understand each other.

  ―You know I'll do everything I can to get rid of you. A seal won't be enough to stop me.

  She was different, too. She didn't scream anymore and she didn't try to scare you. She was serene and spoke to you with the same calmness that you showed her.

  ―And you know I won't let you. And we’ll fight a battle for this thing I call Azeneth until you surrender, or until this body is detached from our souls... I want to do a lot of things. My mind is agitated by so many ideas, so many plans. Your heart has given me the opportunity to experience the world as I couldn’t before, it has given me health, it has given me courage and it has given me your soul, which I’ll now use for my purposes. I thank you for your sacrifice.

  ―Sacrifice? ―her face would twitch for a moment, as if she were about to lose control, and then she would relax―. It’s enough for me to know that no feeling, not even your gratitude, will ever be as big as your guilt. You’ll never be able to use me, and when you least know it, you will be the one who will be at my service.

  ―What would you do, if you could control me?

  ―Rebuild what you destroyed. Revenge. And then, to live life without the limits of the flesh, because I care little what happens to your body, and I'll jump from body to body until I'm bored. But you don't care what I want, do you?

  ―I care a lot. Not because I'm going to grant you anything, but because I want to know you, and the fear I have of you no longer prevents me from getting closer to you.

  ―We'll see if you act the same in the wakefulness. For now, I grant you this victory.

  ―Which victory? I haven't sealed you yet.

  ―... You think it's me who's getting into your dreams, and the foolish doctor has believed you, but we're here talking because you've wanted it that way, and you've seen me because you've wanted it, and you'll wake up now because you've wanted it that way.

  ―Wait, I don't want to wake up yet. Not until you tell me your name.

  ―I won't tell you.

  ―I ask you as a favor. There's nothing I can do with it that hurts you more than I already have.

  ―Okay. My name is Clementina.

  ―Goodbye, Clementina.

  She opens her eyes.

  It's already night.

  She jumps up, because she doesn't want to be late with the doctor.

  In the darkness of the street with its broken lamps, there is a woman watching her, near the gate.

  Her heart stops for a moment, until she looks carefully.

  Is the woman who talked to her in the church on the day of Gustavo's funeral mass. The one who warned her about Victor.

  ―Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I passed by here and I was glad to see that you have already returned to your grandfather's house, I was about to leave because I saw you asleep, when you woke up.

  ―Good evening, se?ora... Oh, I'm not back, I just came to water the plants.

  ―Ah, I see ―the woman looks around the house―. Come visit me one of these days. I live in the yellow house behind the Clinic. Come, please, I have a couple of things to tell you.

  Azeneth doesn't understand what she's talking about, she barely pays attention to her, she manages to nod.

  ―Yes, I will, se?ora.

  And the woman smiles kindly at her and walks away at a slow pace.

  Azeneth starts running, as she tries as hard as she can to keep every bit of that dream in place, going over it in her head to memorize it.

  *

  The pulse of the man, the “prisoner”, is weak, but stable. Carlota attends to him and checks his bandages. Everything seems in order. She rests her elbows on the edge of the bed and observes him, thoughtful.

  She spent the whole afternoon searching the internet to see if there was any news of an escaped prisoner, but found nothing. She is dying of curiosity to know who he is, how he got there, who left him at the entrance of their house. It had to be someone who knew Victor well, because they knew that calling the police was not the first thing he would do.

  Her phone rings. It's Azael.

  ―Aza!

  ―Hello... Eeeh, everything okay?

  ―Yes, why?

  ―Ah... well, since last night you haven't answered my messages. I don't know if I did something wrong or...

  ―Oh, no! Sorry, sorry! I had my phone lost a little bit and I've been busy all day... I haven't answered Gloria either! She's going to kill me!

  ―Aaaah, you gave me a scare...

  ―Really sorry hahaha.

  ―What do you mean you lost it?

  ―Oh, long story. You know, work stuff.

  ―Mmmm... did you get into trouble again?

  ―I didn't get in trouble! Just things happened... ummm... maybe I screwed up a little bit again...

  ―Hahaha... Surely nothing serious.

  ―Oh, yes... nothing serious...

  ―Oh... do you want me to go? I've already left work.

  ―No! For what? I'm fine, you don't have to come.

  ―Because... actually... I thought you were mad at me, so I'm outside of your hous-

  ―I'm going to open the door!

  Carlota runs to the entrance door and throws herself into his arms as soon as she opens it. She makes a disgusted face, because Azael is covered in coal and sweat.

  ―Ugggh... you're all dirty.

  ―Sorry haha, there was a line in the hose, that miserable one we have as a shower and I was in a hurry to come here and I didn't think about that.

  ―You stink.

  ―But you won't let me go, do you? ―he replies smiling and extending an arm, pretending to let go of her.

  Carlota pulls him by the T-shirt to get him in.

  ―So, what happened? ―Azael asks.

  ―Shhh, Victor is in the office with a patient ―she beckons him to follow her until they enter her room.

  ―Now, are you going to tell me?

  ―A lot happened! We ran into a very son-of-a-bitch spirit and people died and I couldn't help it and Atálaro is around again. Do you remember Ataláro? and we have a man hiding in the next room who could be a fugitive from justice and a while ago I took a nap because I didn't sleep at all last night and... I had a very strange dream... it had to do with... Azeneth... and-

  ―Wait wait wait... I don't understand anything... tell me... first... you dreamed of Azeneth.

  ―Aza! It was one of those dreams that you know are not just dreams... Ah! And it turns out that she is going to follow Victor's advice and she’s going to stay with that woman inside... Aaagh, how she let herself be convinced...

  ―Well, that’s her problem, why does it bother you?

  ―Because she's stupid!

  ―You too.

  ―I'm not playing! I'm serious.

  ―Well, well... It's okay, she's your friend and you care about her.

  ―She's not my friend and I don't care about her.

  ―So?

  ―I don't know... just... it bothers me...

  ―What?

  ―What about what?

  ―What bothers you?

  ―... I don’t know... She shouldn't do it, I just want her to go home.

  ―But you invited her to come.

  ―Because it was a matter of work.

  ―But decided to do it because you wanted to, in fact it was your idea-

  ―You're not understanding me.

  ―You don't even understand yourself, what do you want me to tell you?

  ―I don't want you to tell me anything, I want you to listen to me.

  ―Okay, I listen.

  ―No, you'd better give me some advice.

  Azael gives a long sigh before answering.

  ―... Well, if it's going to happen, it's going to happen. Could you try to bring the party in peace and that's it? If you get along with her, maybe the time she stays here will be more bearable...

  Carlota is left thinking, looking the other way, still upset. Azael continues:

  ―If I'm honest, from what you're telling me, I think she's here because she has no other choice. And if I remember correctly, you also came here because you had no other choice. I wish you had someone kind to make you feel at home when you came here...

  Carlota's grimace disappears. For a moment it seems that it will mutate into anger, but then it softens.

  ―See? ―Azael ruffles her hair―. Now, tell me about that dream first.

  “... is not as bad as I thought it might be, as long as you can keep the fear from your mind. But I guess you could say that about most anything in life”

  Twin Peaks

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