The smell of hot common bun hits Ava's nostrils, as she opens her eyes to the bright sunlight. Her mouth waters in anticipation for the sweet and salty goodness, as she makes her way towards the kitchen. Two elderly persons bides her good morning, one she recognized as her father. The next, her mother.

Avagay knits her brows as the buns, once placed on the tray starts to disappear, the lovely smell vanishes with it. Then her parents start to subside, welcoming a bright light.

"In the end it's all the same,
In the end it's all a game"

Pain hits Ava's back like a truck. She squints her eyes from the harsh impact of the sun as her body aches all over. She smells sweet waffles, not as good as her mother's Cinamon bun. However, her stomach turns with hunger.

She opens her eyes, and stares into an unfamiliar face.

"And she's awake," pink lips yells.

She hears Christopher's voice from a distance, then Cindy's and her father, then a familiar but unfamiliar voice.

She looks around the whitely tilled house, clothed in green strips with paintings and pictures hanging from its walls.

She sees Christopher emerging from her right accompanied by a handsome young fellow. His face holds relief and anger, and his eyes carry tiredness. It looked like Chris haven't slept for days and maybe weeks.

"I almost thought it would end up like last time," the man, who she first saw said.

He looks like a doctor, since he's in a doctor's coat. However, not a professional. Wearing socks, and trousers with no shirt, while dealing with a patient, is not the way to go. He looked so familiar, however with the hair in his face, Ava couldn't quite tell if she knew him or not.

She then sees her father with Cindy strolling towards her. It's then she realizes that they are dressed in new clothes are clean. She looks down at herself, and notices this too, her bruises were also taken care of.

She looks back at the so-called doctor, was he the one who dressed my wounds. Ava cringes at the fact of another man seeing and touching her body. Ava's brown eyes cast upon the man once more, she's sure to have seen him before. She's cut off by her trail of thoughts, when Christopher kneels before her. He holds unto her outer thighs, looking into her eyes. She looks into his. They stay like that for a while.

The world around them seem to fade as the stare at each other washing over everything they have been through. A tear slips from Christopher's eyes as he remembers last night events. Ava wipes it, however, more emerges from within his sleepless eyes.

Ava leans forward, bring pain unto herself, as she rests Chris' head unto her chest. She lets him cry and follows him soon after on his salty journey.

She's sorry to have placed herself in danger, especially, when she knew she could have died. However, her circumstances and emotions took the best of her. It was as if fear didn't exist. Anger. Revenge. Hate. Everything within and between the life of what she dreamed and what she is living. Sources that fed her urge to push for better. However, just a bit too much. She pushed towards the voice leaving the light, which cost her, her emotions. The dark controlled her entire begin in that time, and all she needed was a bit of love, Christopher's love.

Salty waters sprayed from her eyes like a fountain. Her grip tightens around Chris. He wraps his hands around her waist, as their energy flow from each other, as two objects would in convection heat.

Ava buries her chin in Christopher's soft hair, heaving a sigh as she bites her lips to lower her whimpers. Tears trail down her now fluffed face, desperate for freedom.

The others leave the room, giving the couple space. She rests her face in Christophers hair, after watching the last person - the familiar so-called doctor - leave the room.

She feels satisfied and free. Yet, a lingering feeling in her gut told her otherwise. It was as if something was yet to come, and this was just the beginning. A strong feeling told her that the doctor had something to do with whatever was going to happen.

"In the end it's all the same,
In the end it's all a game"

Avagay shakes her head of the ever so reoccurring quote. She was thinking about this too much, probably if she just rests everything would run to her willingly.

The silence is wonderful, yet the pain is so painful. Two lovers in each other's arms, yet still eyes so teary. Salty water flows between and over their memories. They cry together thinking about the same thing, yet it's not the same.

The burning feeling of guilt rips through Christopher's chest, as if to rip him of his arteries. Making it harder for him to breath. The grieving heart sends the signal of the thrilling pain to the brain. The pain develops as he remembers the memories, and how he had gotten Ava into this mess. He blames himself, no doubt Ava does too. He cries more, however not a sound leaves his quivering lips.

It's forbidden for men to cry in this society, especially in front of another, a woman to that extent. However, here he is in Avagay's embrace, drenching her blouse with tears, while intaking her cinnamon scent.

How selfish is he to let her sit like this? Her back must have hurt, should be hurting. He wanted her. Still wants her. Still loves her. However, still uses her. How much more selfish can he be? She doesn't deserve him, and neither does he deserves her.

Selfish and helpless! That's why his father died in the first place. He was too selfish and helpless to see it all. He lost what he had once, now he is letting what he want slip through his fingers again. Just like water.

The pain stings him more than his tears. He can't love her anymore, he mustn't. Everything that's brought upon her now. How can he live with this guilt? It would be better if he's devoured by a shark, or stabbed to death, by her hands.

It wouldn't change the fact that it's all his fault, but probably they would be equal. Tears rushes down Chris' face like a car on an empty freeway. His face is puffed and pail, almost resembling that of Ava's.

She cries in hurt and begs for forgiveness, yet still her aching unpleased brain gives her no chance for asking the truth. Her back sweats with pain, yet still it seems as if the pain only multiples. Her heart works in sync with her aching back. Sending her all the pain she had brought upon others and herself.

She hates Clinton more than ever; he caused her back pain. These scars would stay forever. Printed on her as if they were tattoos or sewed to her skin. She already carried scars, plenty on her heart to be precise. Out of sight from any human being. These could be seen, however. And, though she hasn't seen herself properly she knew they looked horrible.

She hates herself for appearing to Chris in her state. For even allowing Clinton to do this to her body, when she could have done something.

Who knows if now Chris would like her scars, or her? Probably he would, for he had some of his own. Sitting neatly on his chest, looking like a lovely painting. She admired them, maybe he would admire hers too. Maybe he would sympathies with her.

However, what is 'maybe'? Just a useless word, that makes way for negative thoughts. Though we used it so often. Just maybe we'll stop using it. There it is again!

Ava slams her eyes shut calming her heartbeat and her mind. She tries to focus on the good in life. All the things she achieved. All the things she will achieve. Afterall, aren't they safe now. Her mission is completed. She just needs to get better. Needs to find a new life-

The doctors image comes back to mind. His unsettling stare. His familiar voice and face. She's sure to have seen him somewhere. There the feeling is again. That sick unsettling feeling at the bottom of your gut telling you something is wrong; something is going to happen. There it was kicking its way up to the surface, within Ava.

Her weeping slowly subsides as she tries to remember him.

"Goodbye Avagay," rings in her ears, like a Catholics mourning bell. Him? She's sure. It sounds like him, just a change of accent. Anybody could change their accent really though. She knows how to do many. Australian, British, Scottish she could even speak Spanish and a little French. Being an agent who was sent all around the word provided her with this wisdom. If he's an agent, he could very damn well speak in as much accents as he wants too. Like even the average person could. Maybe it is him!

"Chris? Question: Who is the man in the doctor's outfit?", she asks, squinting her brows. Her voice gave off fear and anger, nothing like she was crying. Christopher picked that up. He knows something is wrong. However, what could possibly be wrong with Damian?

"Damian", he answers, then Ava knew that her troubles had just begun. Just as the tears ended, from one thing to the next.