The 7th man looked like he was in his mid 50s. He was thin. Tall, wore a beard, by the side of his right eye there was a small but deep wound, that looked as if it might have come from a knife. He had short hair, and in a few places stiff looking white hairs were mixed in with the rest. He had an expression like you get when you try to say something, but just can't express it well, but with him it seemed like the expression had been stuck on his face forever, and I came to be very familiar with it. Underneath his grey tweed suit, he wore a plain blue shirt. Sometimes he played with his collar. Nobody knew this man's name. Nobody knew what he did.
Since then I have not had the nightmares, and have not woken myself in the middle of the night screaming. I have changed my life, and have healed. (?) No, maybe it is too late for being healed. I might not have much more time left in my life. Even though it might be too late, I am thankful that I was able to make this mysterious recovery in the end. Yes. If I didn't get any help, the possibility of living my life in the darkness of fear and letting out screams was enough. (??)