Ten
The face was familiar and it haunted Matt's dreams. Hovering above him, eyes narrowed, mouth wide open, baring his white teeth in an iniquitous sneer. All the while, the sun beat a devil's halo around his frame. The feel of a gun butt slammed against his skull, and a boot heel dug in his side mixed with his fear for the red haired woman.
He knew no words for danger save the one she'd taught to him. "Hot… hot …" he groaned, tossing his body from one side to another, trapped in that hinterland between dream and reality. He cried, "Hot ... Hot," until the sound of his cries, woke her from sleep in her bed down the hall. Not bothering with her robe, she raced into his room. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she bore down with her weight to stop his frantic pitching. He opened his eyes to the dim light of first dawn, leaving the blazing sun of his dream behind.
"Shhhh," she soothed, "It's alright." Heat radiated from his body and she feared his fever had returned.
He stared at her with clear eyes, his mental processes sharp with the need to warn her of the threatened danger, "Hot, hot."
She let up on her pressure and raised her hand to feel his forehead. "You are warm, but I don't think you have a fever. I'll open the window to let a little breeze in."
The inability to communicate with her frustrated him; he grabbed her shoulders in a vice like grip and with straight arms held her suspended over him, "Hot" he shouted at her.
The abrupt action startled her, "Let go of me." She commanded.
"Hot." His hold was tight, even in his weakened condition, she was no match for his power.
"Let me go!" she shouted back.
His thoughts were becoming confused again along with his emotions.
The woman in his hands became the physical object of his mental struggle. As though she were a rag doll he shook her. He spit the words out at her, "Hot … HOT."
Strands of red hair clung to the tears on her cheeks. She choked back sobs, there was no bravery left in Kitty Russell, her courage was spent; her will to survive was being shaken from her as one would shake the chaff from wheat.
The sound of her sobs reached him, though he was unable to identify the reason why. He stopped shaking her; she hung limply in his outstretched arms. As one trying to see on a fog shrouded night, his eyes searched hers for a connection. A tear dropped from her cheek and landed on his lip. He ran his tongue around his mouth to retrieve it. The connection … only a slender thread was made, and he pulled her down to his chest. Her body shuddered from exhausted sobs. Though his grasp was no longer that of a captor and she could have escaped had she made the effort to do so, she remained where she was. All the grief and uncertainty of the last six months had fallen in on her - the weight of it proved stronger than his hold.
GS GS GS GS GS
There was a chill to the morning, and she was glad for the heat the cook stove brought to the kitchen. She had left him earlier, prying herself from his sleeping arms to escape to the washroom. There, she had filled the water bowl. Cupping her hands she splashed the icy liquid over her face. Her cheeks were chapped and hot from the tears of the night before. A glance in the mirror showed her red skin was not the only casualty from last night's abuse. Her eyes were puffy and swollen from tears. "You look like hell." She informed her reflection.
Every nuance of the ordeal was alive in her mind. What happened had stunned her to the core, for she'd experienced first hand, how unstable Matt was. Not only had his mental abilities been altered but his emotional ones as well. He'd been no better than an animal. Panic set in as she wondered what he would do next. She realized the impossible had come to pass, she was afraid of him. With self-preservation to the forefront, she went to the back porch and retrieved some leather ties she'd seen hanging there. Creeping into his room she tethered his wrists to the iron-framed headboard. She worked quickly and carefully so as not to disturb his deep slumber.
She had checked on him again after she'd washed and dressed. He was still lost in a heavy sleep, oblivious to everything, even after she'd accidentally kicked the leg of his bed. She returned to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of fresh coffee and carried it to the table. As she set it down some of the hot brew splashed over the rim and burned her hand. "Ouch, hot." She gasped aloud. The day before, she'd said the same thing to Matt, warning him, before he was burned. A little spark of understanding started in the back of her mind and worked its way to prominence. The two incidents were related for he'd repeated another word she'd said to him, "sit".
She shivered and folded her arms across her chest to fight off the chill. With her hands resting on her upper arms, she felt the tender bruises he'd left there. A sinking feeling came over her, what if Matt remained as he was, could she continue to care for him, was Mr. Davis right? Was an asylum the best place for him? She had no time to further dissect her thoughts for there was a knock at the front door. Afraid he would be awakened by the noise she ran to the main entryway of the house. Standing on the porch was Lilly, the `ten-day girl', from St Vincent's. Kitty opened the door a crack.
The woman made a clumsy effort at an inelegant curtsy, "Well I done finally found you Missy, I was asking every cab driver I dun seen, ifn' he knew what happened to the purdy red haired gal, and the big feller wearin' the loony duds."
Opening the door a little wider, Kitty asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Well'm I reckoned I ain't got no place to sleep, `ceptin the back alleys, and I figured a fancy gal like you wouldn't know what to do with Abe, him being addled in the head in all. I reckoned we could kinda help one another out … me need'n a roof over my head and you need'n an extree hand."
Kitty's eyes swept over her, she was dirty and her clothing tattered, "I appreciate the thought, but this is a small cottage, there are only two bedrooms, there's no place for you to sleep."
Pulling herself to full height, Lilly said, "Ah, heck Missy, I don't need no bed, don't reckon I'd know how to sleep on one if'n I had to. The floor's fine, just so long as I got me a rag to cover up with."
From the bedroom Kitty heard the sound of Matt stirring. He was babbling, his words agitated but unintelligible. She glanced at Lilly and opened the door wide allowing her entry.
Stepping into the cottage, Lilly nodded her head knowingly; "He's got the funk, when they is com'in outa the wakeful sleep - that's when they get it."
"Then this is a good thing?"
"All depends..."
"Depends on what?"
"Some of 'em … just stay in the funk … never get no better … them's the ones they give the pills to and chain to the bed."
A violent crash came from Matt's bedroom; Kitty gave a wild-eyed glance at Lilly before running down the short hall to his room.
The water pitcher lay shattered on the floor by his bed. He was pulling at the straps, violently - shaking the bed with his efforts. His wrists were bloodied by his exertion. The sounds coming from his mouth were like those of a wild creature caught in a trap. The sight of her, only made his struggle more frantic. Lilly had followed behind. Taking in the situation, she pushed Kitty aside and sat on the bed facing Matt. Her voice was quiet, so quiet he stopped making noise to hear her.
Kitty stood back watching, wringing her hands to keep them from trembling. She could see his heart pounding against his chest; perspiration beaded his skin, while his eyes darted from one woman to the other.
"Howdy Abe, I come to help you get better. You gotta get yourself calmed down now, you hear?" Reaching into the pocket of her grungy dress she pulled out a pill. "I brung you som'thin from St. Vinnie's, som'thin to make you feel better." With quick hands, she popped the pill in his open mouth. She placed one hand on his forehead and used the other to massage his throat. "You swaller, you hear?"
Kitty saw Matt's Adams's apple bob in response to Lilly's command. Whatever powers the pill contained it was swift in its course - within minutes his pulse slowed and his eyes fixed on Lilly. "There now, that's better. This gal's got you all tied up like a hog, wait'in fer a roastin. You gots to promise me you won't go all wild now. You promise me and I'll untie them straps."
He made no sound or movement to the affirmative; Kitty doubted he could. The medication had robbed him of any desire to fight or obey.
Lilly began to work on the strapping. "I reckon you seen how much you need me. I know how to care of thems like Abe."
Kitty Russell's voice was a raspy whisper. "But if he's drugged he won't ever get better."
Lilly spun to face her, "If'n he's drugged, he ain't gonna hurt you none neither …" The woman saw her words hit Kitty hard and immediately worked to soften them, "I reckoned all this here's come as a shock to you, him too … Look …" she reached deeper into her pocket and pulled out a handful of the tablets. I knowed where they kept `em at St. Vinnie's … I emptied two bottles full into my pockets afore I left." Lilly patted Matt's hand, and looked back to Kitty. "Doncha see, once we got him calmed some, we can cut down on what we give him, so he comes back little bit by little bit."
Turning from the girl, Kitty stared at Matt, trying with all her might to see something of the man she loved, "And you believe that will work?"
Lilly took a step toward Kitty, "I seen it work, once or twice."
"Once or twice … not real good odds I'm thinking."
"Ma'am, poor odds is better'n no odds."