Lies
By: Emmy
Disclaimer: Don't own them
A/N: Hello, Merry Christmas, blah blah blah. Anyway, this is my first attempt at Sands and it's different because Nobody is strong enough to lose what he's lost and come out alright. So read and review and tell me what you think because I like to know so I can improve.
Warnings: I think there arethree swearwords… and some suicidal themes. Not too bad.
Sands lies in his bed. Just like he's done for as long as he can remember. It's dark and he's lonely. Every invisible shadow twists and turns and he can still feel his eyes even though he knows that they aren't really there. Sometimes in the long hours he wonders if he's feeling any different from someone who's stuck in a desert hallucinating about water that isn't there.
Memories are lies and sanity is just another thing he wants but can't have. He doesn't remember how he used think when he still had his eyes. He doesn't remember how he felt and he thinks that maybe he dreamed up the sacred colors. He thinks that maybe everything is a lie and he's the only one that understands that darkness is the only reality left.
He would give everything he has to see again and he knows that everything he has won't ever be enough. So he lies still and waits for death to eat him up because he'd rather see his skin be scorched for eternity by undying flames then see nothing at all.
Some foreign part of him tells him that he needs to kill the fuckers that did this to him, but he knows they'll die soon enough with or without his help. So he lies in his bed and pretends that the world can't hurt him anymore.
And then the Mariachi comes in.
Sands doesn't believe in a lot anymore, but he believes that the Mariachi comes every day. He doesn't understand why, because he knows that the Bastard was partly to blame for his loss.
He also knows that the hate he holds for the Man is mutual.
But every day the Man comes in and tries to make him eat a slice of half-stale bread. He closes his mouth with every iota of strength he owns, he knows that his muscles are wasting, and knows that it will take three hundred and thirty one seconds before He gives up. So he counts and pretends not to notice the rough fingers brushing and prodding his mouth and lips. He also pretends that he doesn't like it.
When he reaches three hundred and thirty one in his head Sands listens as the Mariachi gives a little grunt of annoyance.
Why don't you eat? The Man asks. Do you not want to live? Sands wonders why the words are always the same.
No. Sands replies. And he doesn't understand why he doesn't bite the bullet. He wonders why he follows their script.
You are sick of living? The Mariachi asks. Just like He always does, with the same concern and the singing accent.
Sick of dying. Sands says it because it's the truth and he says it because he knows that if he doesn't say what he's supposed to then the Mariachi with his magic hands will steal his voice.
You can fix that if you tried hard enough.
There is silence and Sands hates the way his ears pick up the Man's voice in each breath the Mariachi takes. He hates the way he knows that his body is adjusting to his lack of sight even if his mind isn't.
He hates the way he knows that El is picking up his guitar by the hollow ringing that echoes in his empty world. He hates that he knows he likes the songs that sing from the Man's hands. He hates that he can't understand the music even though he knows it has a story. He hates the way he feels like nothing matters but the music and the hands that make it because they are the only things that still exist in his world.
But most of all he hates that the bread is always gone by the end of the second song because he knows that he's the only one that could have eaten it.
The Mariachi pauses after the fifth song and asks him if he'd like to use the bathroom. Sands thinks that he should be ashamed that the Mariachi has to carry him to the toilet.
But he isn't. Because secretly he likes being moved (touched) by hands that make such perfect notes. He likes it when his head flops onto the stronger Man's shoulder because he can't (won't) find the strength to keep it upright. And when that happens he breathes through his nose because he likes the way the Man smells.
After he's relieved himself (sitting down because his legs are weak and still healing) the Man carries him back and tucks him in like a little child. Sands knows that he should shoot El for the sake of pride, but he also knows that pride is just a lie like everything else.
But this time He doesn't leave. This time the Mariachi sits next to him. This time the Mariachi asks him a thousand questions.
Why does fate hate us? Can you ever do enough wrongs to earn the loss of your entire world? Why am I here? Why are you here? How far must one be pushed before he loses himself in despair? How much of life is a lie?
And Sands just wants Him to shut up. Sands wants Him to shut up and stop asking all the fucking questions. Sands wants Him to answer them.
But he doesn't, the questions just pour out and out and Sands wonders if perhaps the Man had so many questions that He exploded and Sands was the unlucky soul that had to listen to them. And he's angry but he doesn't know why. Maybe it's because he knows that the answers are important and that the answers are dangerous.
Just shut up. He says. Shut the fuck up. Because he's scared that soon El will ask the right question. The question that matters the most.
And the Man does. There is no more speaking and just when Sands expects Him to get up, El lies down. Sands doesn't know what to do, because everything has changed and the routine is broken and he doesn't care because the routine was stupid.
So Sands doesn't do anything and tries to ignore the way the Man's breath is whispering along his face. Sands tries to ignore the smells. Gunpowder, tobacco, death, life. It smells like his old life and Sands knows that his old life was a lie. Just like he knows that he still misses it.
Why did I come back?
Sands hates the world and Sands hates El because He wrecked the moment with the one question he is afraid of. Because that is the right question and it is the question that matters the most.
And now Sands knows that dying isn't an option anymore because the darkness is a lie and he has to find a way out of it.