"'s open." he called out, his voice barely audible enough to be heard through the door. He sounded weak, distant. He was propped up on the couch, sitting on the floor with his back leaned against the arm, facing the door. His legs were pulled up to his chest, his chin resting on his knee. There was a strange look about his face. He looked...empty. Completely drained. He was pale, and he was still in a cold sweat. He kept flashing back. Back. Back to the portal. Back to the past. Back to the places he thought he had escaped.

He fell asleep for about twenty minutes that night, and was quickly woken up by a nightmare. He wasn't able to fall back asleep. He freaked out. He knocked a bunch of things off of the coffee table in his frantic scramble off of the couch, and they littered the floor of his usually clean living room. One of the cushions was off of the couch as well, and so were the throw pillows, which were now scattered about different areas of the room. He was scared, angry, crying when he woke up. He tried to fight off images, things that weren't really there. And then he was back in his apartment. And he was drained.

And then Sophia stepped in.