23: Behind closed doors

There is no good and evil. There is only power and those too weak to seek it.

~Lord Voldemort, The sorcerer's stone

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January, 2009

South Africa

Al'amir Belko woke up with a start, wiping a hand over his face as he tried to gain his bearings. Despite the Aircon on full blast, he was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his body shaking–from what, he couldn't remember.

Each breath of his was released with great difficulty he wondered if he was about to suffer a stroke. But it couldn't be possible, he was at peak health, despite the condition he was still in after the tragic passing of his wife six months ago.

He had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there but as his hand brushed over the nightstand, he knew he had been here before. But, where was here exactly?

His hand snagged on the desklight switch, pressing the button only to switch it off again when the light almost blinded him.

He suffered from a headache unlike any he had ever had before and his mouth, it tasted like cott