The Gods and Goddesses grant favors, and when kids are first learning about this relationship, they tend to get a bit overzealous. The Festival is thrown every year as repayment. When the Gods and Goddesses first appeared about a century ago, these are the negotiations that were made. They never explained why, which bothers Avery now.

Obviously the Gods won't grant every single wish, and this is explained by the parents, but kids will be kids; they always have to see for themselves.

This is what Avery did. He asked for all sorts of things, for his favorite toys, to not have to eat his vegetables, to have ice cream for breakfast. He asked and he asked and he asked, until he asked too much.

One day his father never came home from work.

What it meant at first didn't click in his head until he asked for something else and his dog died. He asked for something else and his sister, himself, and his mother were in a car crash. His mother didn't make it.

Avery doesn't ask for things from the Gods anymore.

Illusory correlation. That's all it is. His brain connected the two events all those years ago, to try and create a reason for all the things that happened, and a means to prevent it from happening again. It's not his fault. He'll be okay. He can do this.

He repeats these words thirteen times.

The chicken is done, and so he cuts this up and puts it into the bowl with the other ingredients. He cuts up the biscuits, mixing this into the bowl as well. Avery puts this all into a glass dish and puts it into the oven.

He sets the timer on the oven and turns around. Dinner is taken care of, one less thing for him to do. He trails his finger along the countertop; no dust at all. It's clean, but he thinks it could be cleaner. Caroline rarely comes over, so everything has to be up to her standards. Avery ignores the fact that he'll need to do his homework before she gets here, going instead to his closet to get his cleaning supplies.

He dusts, wipes and sprays every surface that he can. He vacuums the entire apartment, he empties the bathtub drain, he cleans the dishes. The thought of giving Thirteen a bath flitted through his mind, although he decided he would spare her that torture when she gave him a glare, as if knowing what he was thinking. She wanders off into his bedroom, so Avery is left alone.

The time is already 7 o'clock, and Caroline still hasn't called. By now he's turned off the oven, but kept the food inside so it stays warm. He bites his lip, he has to do his homework.

He can't procrastinate the problem any longer. He drags his eyes to the space next to his couch. The table was a gift from his sister when he moved into the apartment. The only piece of furniture that he didn't buy himself, and one he never would have bought of his own accord.

The dark stained oak dining table is easily the most expensive item that Avery owns. It remains the most expensive item since he never uses it. He always chooses to eat on the couch. Better safe than sorry. It's covered with a layer of dust seeing as it's the only surface in his house that he doesn't clean.

If it were up to him he would have gotten rid of it, but he didn't have the heart to do so. His sister would notice if it went missing, and he wouldn't be able to come up with an excuse if for its disappearance anyway. So he ignores the table instead, in order to keep Caroline happy.

It's common to have something like it in almost every home. Whether it's cabinetry or furniture, it's a way to keep the Gods close. Oak was considered a status symbol. A sign that you were close with the Gods, and also that you were rich enough to afford so much of the expensive material. When they lived with their parents it was cabinets. Caroline most likely didn't think when giving him the gift, or maybe she had been, hoping it would force him to face his superstitions.

"Nothing will happen, Avery. People do it almost every day. See?"

The memory thuds loudly in his head, his therapists' words echoing, trying to persuade him as he walks closer to the table, now only a foot away. The table sits still, as if daring him to do it. As if it will suddenly launch out and attack him.

The itch grows stronger, his stomach queasy. The urge to scratch at his skin, scratch anywhere, just to make the itch go away is screaming at him. His head is pounding, his breathing growing fast as the knot in his chest squeezes around his heart, his throat constricting.

His hand shakes as it creeps forward. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears, his brain on overdrive. Every fiber of his body is screaming, no. No, no, no. But he needs to do it. He needs to. He needs to.

Avery knocks on the wood two times and it booms in his ears.

He freezes, his eyes squeezed shut, hand still in a fist as it hovers over the table. He did it. There's a spot on the table now, a gap in the dust. Proof that it really happened. His heart is still pounding, he's still breathing, nothing is happening.

Avery jumps when the phone rings. He quickly scrambles to it, snatching it off the kitchen counter.

"Hello?" His voice is strained as he answers the phone.

"I'm here Avery. Let me in." It's Caroline. The clock says it's 7:13.

"Okay," Avery breathes, hanging up the phone. Everything's fine. Caroline is here. Nothing bad has happened. Nothing bad will happen. He glances over at the table before he shakes his head. He has to let Caroline in.

He quickly checks on dinner before going to the door and putting his shoes on. Thirteen reappears from wherever she had been hiding, meowing. Avery pets her three times before grabbing his key and leaving the apartment.

He moves quick down the hallway to the elevator. Nothing has changed, and yet everything's different. His head is held high, the adrenaline from before is still pumping in his veins. His therapist was right. Everything is okay. Avery chuckles, giddy now. He's okay.

Pressing the button for the elevator, it opens immediately, greeting him with a pleasant ding. He moves inside and presses the button for the third floor, the doors closing.

This is great, he can't wait to tell Caroline what happened. Maybe by next year he'll be able to go to the Festival again. She'll be ecstatic. Finally all of his hard work seems to be paying off, progress is finally being made.

The elevator creaks up, and Avery watches as the numbers change.

The second floor, the elevator groans.

The third floor, it jolts.

The elevator doors don't open. He presses the button for them to open, jamming his finger into it thirteen times.

"Come on, come on, come on."

It's the thirteenth time that the elevator gives one final snap before it goes down.