What happens next.
He froze —
like a boy.
Something broke there.
It has to be cleared out of him.
Fuck.
“What?”
“What if this is violence?”
“Can you handle it?”
“I don’t know, Nate.
I don’t know.”
“Then I’ll do it myself.”
“Copy.
But I think it’s something with the mother.”
“What are you working on?”
“Well… how do I put it.
I was learning to cook for myself
the same way I cook for my own.
To sit down.
To serve the food.
To eat —
as if it were the best day of my life.
Not furtively.
Not on the run.
Not ‘I’ll finish later.’
I was learning to love myself.
I was learning to love Nazokat.
The body jerked
like it was possessed.
It shook.
It resisted every attempt at care
like a wild animal
being touched for the first time not to be hit.
I held myself by the scruff.
Hard.
No sentiment.
Come on.
You will have to love yourself.
Whether you like it
or not.
I was vomiting again.
Blood streamed out of me —
as if the body
was squeezing out of itself
everything that had been accumulating in it for years
without the right to speak.
Come on.
You’ll get through it.
Come on, Nazokat.
God damn it.
I was learning to listen to Nazokat.
To stop myself
if I didn’t like it.
And to allow myself to continue
if I wanted to.
Open your mouth.
And say
if you don’t like it.
But the jaw was locked
with seven locks.
And another hundred on top.
This lesson
cost me blood.
Because from the very beginning
I heard my mother screaming at me:
“Shut your mouth.”
And then
it was stitched into me
through violence
and pain.
So deep
that even when I wanted to say
“this doesn’t work for me,”
“it hurts,”
“I don’t like it” —
the body chose
silence
and bleeding.
Fuck.
My body wouldn’t throw up.
Come on, Nazokat.
Rip this filth out of yourself.
Get your fingers in.
“Nate?”
“Yeah, baby. Come on.”
“Then turn away.”
“I’ll love you even if you throw up on me.”
I smiled.
“You’re sick, you know that.”
He spread his hands.
That’s who I am.
“You miss sex.”
“You have no idea how much.”
I smiled.
I worked with the inner voices
to replace them completely.
No more criticism.
I learned to believe —
if someone said
or predicted something good for me,
I believed it.
That I am good.
That good is about me.
That I am worthy.
And I learned to set boundaries:
“I still love you very much,
but no — not now.”
I learned to give loved ones
their weight back:
“I still adore you,
but this is not my responsibility.
You have to answer for yourselves.”
My muscles seized.
The dragons inside me beat me bloody.
I howled from pain and raw wounds.
Nate, of course,
was not allowed near me.
Wounds healed differently —
sometimes instantly,
sometimes so slowly
it felt like eternity had arrived.
“How’s Nate?”
“He’s barely holding together.
I’m afraid he won’t last long.”
“Fuck.”
“He’s falling apart.
His mind is slipping back into trauma.
He’s starting to fragment.”
“For fuck’s sake.”
“Kitten, I’ll manage,
but we have to hurry.”
“Copy.”
And my cleansing went
into an even more frantic mode.
I was losing consciousness myself.
Day and night blurred together.
I couldn’t think at all.
Nate hadn’t been there
for a couple of days already.
I was barely holding on.
Those fucking gods.
Bastards.
I forgot
when I last ate.
I was throwing up —
saliva,
bile,
something else
that doesn’t even have a name.
The body was cleansing itself,
turning inside out.
And right in the middle of that cleansing
they dragged me
to the devils.
I swallowed.
Fuck.
I’m a regular here already.
The devils were disgusting.
Sticky.
Slimy,
like spoiled flesh.
They touched me,
and my skin tightened with revulsion.
The air thickened.
I turned around.
Less and less light.
Ahead —
dense, viscous darkness.
The air here was different.
And my entire fucked-up family,
the whole clan,
was here.
But fuck them.
Nate
was there.
Fuck.
He was hanging
like a marionette.
By strings
held not by hands —
but by something ancient
and mocking.
Something clicked inside me.
I came alive instantly.
The body switched on.
Consciousness — crystal clear.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“And what did you expect, baby?”
they drawled with a grin.
“He’s not used to loads like yours.”
“This isn’t your league.”
“Take me instead of him,”
I said,
without thinking for a second.
“Oh no,”
they stretched out.
“That won’t work.”
Fuck.
What do you want?!
I stood in front of them —
inside out,
exhausted,
still smelling of vomit and blood,
but alive.
“Speak,” I said.
“Terms.
Anything.”
Because if there is a choice
where it’s him —
and not me,
then there is
no choice at all.
I went back.
“Nate.”
Silence.
“Nate!”
I screamed like a child
who had just seen death.
Silence.
“NAAAAATE!”
Everything inside me roared,
and I roared,
dying from pain.
I forced myself to hold still
so I wouldn’t start cutting those bastards again.
“Let’s make a deal.
What do you want?”
“Crawled back.”
“Bitches.”
“First,
even out the indicators.”
“And also…”
The voices fell silent.
And then it hit me.
Wait.
I know what they need.
Otherwise I’d already be dead.
They need my mission.
They need Earth Angels.
“Hey, guys.”
They turned.
“What if I kill her —
her body dies?”
They went berserk.
I started glowing.
They punched me in the stomach
and broke my nose.
Fuck.
I straightened up.
“What, girls, unpleasant?
Turns out not only you
have power here.”
“I’ll kill her.
Watch.”
The indicators spiked wildly.
The body jerked.
Doctors rushed in.
Everything was prepared for strikes —
straight into the heart.
“Well, she won’t last long.”
“If she dies,
he dies too.”
“Yeah, that’s true.
Anything else?”
“Bitch.”
“Uh-huh.
So what are we doing, guys?”
“Speak.”
The dragons roared with rage.
Easy, easy, guys.
“My body won’t last long,
and you’re standing here insulting me.”
The pulse flattened into a straight line.
Death recorded.
“Speak.
What do you want?”
“Let Nate go.”
Click —
and he was there.
“And I’ll shut the system down completely
if you roll all of this back.”
“We can’t.”
“Oh.
So you’re not the ones in charge.
Someone’s got you by the balls.”
They nodded reluctantly.
“Then bring him here.”
He appeared
the way he always appears.
Lord of hell,
in a black coat,
infinitely in love with me.
“You’re mine.
You belong to me.”
“Hi.
No.”
“You’re mine
and you always will be.”
“No.
I don’t love you.”
“You can’t say that.”
He wore Nate’s face.
I kissed him —
only because I missed Nate so badly it hurt.
“I’ll love you the way he does.
I promise.”
“No.
I don’t love you.”
“Why do you need him?
Why, stupid girl?
I can lay the whole world
at your feet.”
“No.”
“Fucking idiot.
Fucking idiot.”
“You know,
that’s not how you talk to someone you love.”
And suddenly
I knocked my fist against his.
“So you were a coward
all this time,
hiding here?”
He twisted his face
like, oh — sorry.
“Coward.”
“Nate too.”
“Don’t you dare say that.”
“Sorry.”
“Shut your mouth.”
“Don’t you dare
even fucking look at him.”
The Lord tried again.
“Look at him.
He’s exhausted.
He’s weak.
He won’t withstand your power.”
“He will.
And he’ll spit in your face.
I believe in him.
He’s powerful.
He’ll make it.”
“But why do you believe in him so much?”
“Because I know him.
The moment he comes back to himself,
you’ll be screaming.”
He swallowed.
“Oh.
Scared?
Good.
You know.
You know.”
He went pale.
“Nate is that powerful.
You’re afraid of him.”
“That’s not true.
Shut up.”
“Oh really?”
“You don’t understand what you’re doing.”
“Oh, I understand perfectly.”
From the moment we met,
Nate had been growing into himself.
He kept expanding
until he became a massive, gigantic dragon.
His eyes glowed electric blue,
shot through with dark green,
when he looked at me.
“Hi, my love.
I’m glad you finally remembered who you are.”
“Thank you, kitten.”
And once more, I died.
Everything inside me peeled away.
I dissolved.
And again
I became Nazokat —
for Nate.
Nate stepped fully into his power.
Which meant
I could finally breathe out.
I returned to myself.
Back on heels,
with my unchanged curls,
gentle and fragile.
He lit up.
“Hi, my love.”
I stepped onto his palm,
and he carried me to his cheek
so I could kiss him.
“Kitten, wait. Please.”
In fury, Nate opened his jaws
and burned everything to the ground.
Everything that remained
he broke and crushed,
every last fragment,
until only ash was left.
The cleansing moved faster now than before,
because no one was choking me in a basement anymore,
and Nate was always nearby
when he was needed.
I learned that I can tell the people I love:
“No.
I still love you.
But first — me.
Right now I’m needed by myself.
Everything else can wait.”
I learned not to entertain.
To be boring.
And not to punish myself for it.
I learned tenderness toward myself,
tenderness toward my body,
without judging myself
for extra weight
or anything I once thought was a flaw.
And I learned to believe
that I am beautiful.
I cut out — precisely, carefully —
the voices and cruelty of the past.
I removed the pain,
leaving only the lesson,
only the skill.
And the past retreated.
I learned to live
even if I end up alone.
If those close to me choose a different path.
I learned to let go
if someone is ready to leave.
I learned to be a woman next to a man.
I learned to delegate and to share.
If something is Nate’s responsibility,
I learned not only to trust him,
but to demand it of him —
as someone worthy,
as someone who must carry that responsibility.
The following days went even faster.
Nate finally saw proof of his faith:
if I woke up once,
I would wake up again.
It was only a matter of recovery.
He washed up,
put himself together,
changed clothes,
and was fully ready.
Every day I sent him signals.
And finally — finally —
he noticed.
A small lamp
in the far corner by the plant
kept falling over on its own
at 22:00.
Every time.
He started paying attention
and told everyone close to me.
I exhaled.
Oh my God.
Finally they hear me.
The Adventuress noticed
that a pencil and paper
kept falling out of her bag.
I pleaded:
Yes.
Yes!
They placed a pencil, paper,
and a floor lamp by my bed.
Finally,
they let me back into the body.
I came to.
It took time
for the body to understand
that I was here.
I couldn’t grip the pencil.
Nate understood instantly.
Despite doctors’ prohibitions,
he and Jonathan
moved my unconscious body around the room.
Nate kneaded my fingers like a madman
so I could write.
And it helped — a lot.
I came to
and reached straight for the pencil.
My hands responded immediately.
“Nadya.
Kaliningrad.”
That’s it.
A second.
And blackout again.
I wrote it in Russian,
and it took them a week
and another week and a half
to understand what I meant.
One of the kids noticed
that mom’s phone kept flickering.
Nate closed his eyes.
One more second.
He understood.
I pleaded.
He found Nadya in my phone
and wrote to her.
She understood immediately
what was happening.
13:41
“The translator is here.
Nadya on the line.”
She was in trance.
I felt it right away —
by the silence around her,
by how the body became empty,
and the voice — alien and precise.
She passed everything on.
Everything.
Thank God.
Thank God.
Nate understood
that she could relay
my messages to him.
And he did everything
exactly as I asked.
No questions.
No hesitation.
They turned off
what was being administered.
They connected different medications.
The body
instantly
came alive.
As if someone
flipped a switch.
I started recovering.
There were more recommendations.
Several.
Clear.
Dry.
But every time —
inevitably — at the end:
“Guys,
I love you so much.
One more month.
One more.
And it’s over.”
I hugged her.
Tightly.
For real.
I thanked her.
She returned to her body —
sharply,
with a breath,
like after a long dive.
Then
her time was over.
She smiled.
Softly.
Calmly.
And
she went limp.
A huge amount of time
was still needed
to restore the connection with Russia.
Because of the massive time difference,
sanctions,
blocks —
inhuman effort was required.
But still,
the connection was restored.
Nadya — on the screen.
“I don’t understand anything,” she says.
“She says she’s already here.”
The guys turn the camera.
They show her my body.
Back in bed.
Silence again.
Again —
no signs of life.
“Hang on. I’ll light a candle,”
Nadya says.
She steps away.
Takes a candle.
Tries to light it.
It dies.
Again.
And again.
I hugged the spirits with me —
the ones who had been secretly helping Nate and me.
And her.
It was Nazokat before me.
A version.
One of my versions.
The one
who sacrificed herself
so that I could return.
And that was when
I came back.
Immediately.
Easily.
As if nothing had happened.
As if I had simply
returned from the next room.
And suddenly
it was so funny
that I laughed.
Sharp.
Alive.
Everyone flinched.
Aristokrat made the sign of the cross.
“Hey, guys,”
I said.
Everyone froze.
“It’s really me.
Me.
I’m done dying.”
They came closer —
slowly,
distrustfully,
like toward a miracle
they were afraid to scare away.
“Damn,”
I said.
“What kind of people are you?
At least celebrate.”
And right then
they exhaled.
For real.
As if the world
was back
in place.
And we went downstairs for tea.
Three in the morning.
The house was asleep,
but not us.
Sophie, of course, hadn’t gone to bed.
She baked sweet buns for me —
homemade, warm.
Opened the honey.
The kitchen was warm,
the light soft,
night light.
The smell of dough,
of tea,
of something very simple
and real.
Everyone hugged me once more
and discreetly left,
leaving Nate and me alone.
I sat at the table,
held my cup
with both hands
and felt —
I’m here.
I’m alive.
And Nate…
Nate latched onto me
like a madman.
He literally
wouldn’t let go.
He stood too close.
Sat right next to me.
His hand was always on me —
on my shoulder,
on my back,
on my wrist.
Because he was terrified
that I’d black out.
That I’d disappear
if he looked away
for even a second.
And he needed time
to believe
that I was really here.
And I…
I was ready
to give him that time.
But first —
I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Nate.”
He smirked.
“Kitten.”
“Mmm…”
I ran my hand along his neck.
He tilted his head back.
“Kitten.”
“My love.”
I kissed him again.
And again.
He groaned.
“My love.
My kitten.”
He growled.
“I missed you so much.”
He reached for my hair.
“I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I’ll take care of you.
Right now.”
And the robe
slid to the floor.
