Author's Note: It is I, the Daisy writer of the neon persuasion! I must admit that the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. (Mark Twain quote, there.) Gah! Real life is horrible. Leaves no time to write. TGICV – thank God it's Christmas vacation. : )
You all have to stop reading my mind! It's freaky! You shall all discover the picture on Sands' fake ID in the next chapter, so have patience. I think most of you can figure it out anyway. It was too delicious an opportunity to pass up. ; )
Author's thanks at the end.
************************************************************
"In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop until against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God." Tess awoke with a start from the dream. It wasn't that it had been a nightmare, but that it had struck much too close to home for her comfort. It was bad enough having nightmares without having dreams that tried to justify themselves. "I never did like Aeschylus," she muttered to herself, thinking of the quote that had awoken her. There was something about regarding pain as a form of God's grace that disturbed her. Putting the matter out of her head, she relaxed once more on the couch. If she was any judge of time at all, she had perhaps an hour before-
-Beep- That settled it once and for all – Tess couldn't judge time to save her life. She resisted the urge to groan as she levered herself off the couch, instead taking the opportunity to stretch. Feeling the skin of her side and upper arm pull and burn as her two wounds quietly informed her that they would like a bit more time to heal before she demanded a great deal of elasticity from them, she gave a mental apology. Sorry, forgot.
As she lurched to her feet like one of the undead, Tess glanced around the darkened room. This had been a nice enough place to stay – as had so many of the small houses she'd habitated in the past few years – but she would not be sad to leave it behind. Over the past year or so, she had been feeling the pull to settle down and leave the violence of the cartel behind. The only thing that had kept her from obeying that call had been the continual stream of injuries that the cartel had left in its wake. Now that her father and his chosen successor were both dead, she didn't have that reason to wander. She was free for the first time that she could remember to leave Mexico and all it had come to represent to her behind. To settle down somewhere that didn't hold any memories for her. She just had to get Sands to Los Angeles safely. Time to go.
Earlier in the day, as twilight had fallen over Culíacan, Tess had packed the few bags they'd need. Two cases of clothes for the children, one for her, one for Sands, and the truck with her medical supplies. In a backpack in the front of the rented minivan was a small cache of food and water, and a prepared bottle of formula for Selena. With any luck, none of this would be needed. One of the reasons Tess had planned their departure for one o'clock in the morning – other than the extra level of secrecy it would grant – was the hope that the children would be so tired that they'd sleep right through the nearly four hour drive.
Once she was back inside the house, Tess patiently roused the older children from their sleep and ushered them across the hall, through her bedroom, to the bathroom. She waited as they each took their turn, ignoring the protests against any need to use the restroom. Instead, she watched to see if Sands showed any signs of waking up on his own. He didn't, but that didn't mean anything. Over the past for days she'd taken on many a task thinking that her patient was resting peacefully, only to be unpleasantly surprised later on when she turned to do something else and found Sands spooking around in the background. And always with a superior smirk on his face. She swore he had spent hours in front of a mirror perfecting that smirk.
Then, of course, every once in awhile one of the children would catch Sands as he prowled and skulked, but they seemed just as delighted with the game as Sands was. The three older kids would laugh hysterically when Tess would start with surprise to find someone so close behind her. The worst time had been when she'd stepped out of the shower yesterday morning to find Sands seated comfortably on the closed toilet, a look of patient expectation on his face. She'd actually shrieked – shrieked – and slammed the stall door closed again, ignoring the fact that her patient had no eyes and therefore couldn't see that she was naked. She couldn't help feeling that it was bad enough that he was able to guess that she showered in the nude, without actually being in the same room with him when she was. Tess knew it was irrational, but that was the way she felt.
Only little Selena was her ally in avoiding these unpleasant reminders that while she may have a brought a disabled man into her home, she hadn't brought an incapable one. And all the baby did was crow happily when she caught sight of the man. But for the most part, Tess was alone in her desire to avoid catching a glimpse of her houseguest.
It's funny, she thought as she waited for the last child to finish their business. I'm, if not scared to death of the man, then I'm at the very least extremely wary of him. But the kids treat him like someone here for their entertainment. They're fascinated by him, but not intimidated. I wonder why that is? You'd think that will all his bandages and cold mannerisms, that they'd leave him alone. But no. Me, the one who's tended all his wounds and watched him sleep – the one who's seen him at his most vulnerable – I'm the one that finds herself intimidated by him. René came out of the bathroom, and Tess set aside her thoughts for more immediate action.
Herding her sleepy charges like a mother hen with reluctant chicks, Tess got the kids out of the house and into the van where there were pillows and blankets already waiting for sleepy heads. Being a doctor down to her very marrow, Tess made sure that all the children were fastened into seatbelts, no matter their inclination to lie down and sleep. She'd seen too many mangled bodies belonging to accident victims who weren't wearing their seatbelts to compromise on this issue. Luckily, the kids were half asleep, so it was fairly easy to get their limp little bodies to do what she wanted.
As she headed back into the house, rubbing her bare arms against the cool night air, Tess glanced up at the night sky. She sighed as she took a brief moment to stargaze. Here, within city limits where the ambient light blotted out the dimmer stars, Tess could almost believe that each one was isolated in its own bit of sky, each free to exist without the interference of the others. Each surrounded by darkness, yet thriving. Each surrounded like hundreds of others like themselves, yet alone. "I'm always alone. Right now I just want to be alone by myself."
"You know, talking to yourself is one of the first signs that you're well down the path to going loco."
Tess didn't know why she was startled. Somewhere in the back of her mind she told herself that she should have known better; that Sands couldn't have possibly slept through four people (three of whom were children) tromping through the room where he was sleeping.
She turned her face from the stars to where he was standing on the porch. He was fully dressed for the first time since the Day of the Dead. His clothes weren't necessarily form-fitting, so his lean form lacked the aura of danger that had covered him that day, but he was still a hard man to overlook. He was dressed in a pair of dark grey slacks, a light grey t-shirt, and a black suit coat. He had a cream colored hat on his head, and the brim, while somewhat misshapen from being in a suitcase for so long, was still able to shade part of his face.
"Did you hear me, or are the voices in your head drowning out everything else?"
Was that a random insult, or does he suspect something? To cover her discomfort and preoccupation, she replied as best she could under the circumstances. "Most men are within a finger's breadth of being mad."
"Is that a fact?"
Surely it isn't right that anyone out of their teens should be able to sound that disbelieving. Something about the drawl he had used sent shivers down Tessa's spine. Or perhaps is was a mix of his tone and the week's worth of facial growth he'd had her shape into a crude goatee. It hadn't looked as interesting when he'd been dressed in a pair of Looney Tune boxers and a tank top.
Again trying to cover her lack of response, Tess nodded. Her eyes were caught once again by the stars overhead, and another quote she had memorized rose to the forefront of her mind. "Light thinks it travels faster than anything, but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it." She was unsure whether she was talking about the stars or her own precarious mental state. "Let me get Lena, and then we'll be ready to go. Do you need to use the restroom before we go?"
"Gee, ma, I think I'm old enough to use the john before I wet myself." Sands shifted his weight from one foot to the other; the battered pair of running shoes he was wearing made scuffling sounds against the wooden slats of the patio. In a less mocking voice he added, "I'm not one of your adoptive orphans, niña, so you can drop the act." There was a tone of warning to his comment, but it wasn't obvious enough for Tess to catch with half her mind elsewhere.
Resisting the urge to ask 'what act,' she queried, "Do you have any family you want me to call to come look after you?" Sands didn't answer, but his face and body grew very still. Tess waited several more seconds before continuing, "Then you are someone I've taken in, and I've already accepted the responsibility. I'll admit that you're more capable of looking after yourself than the children, but I do feel responsible for your well-being. It's too late to change that." There was a trace of wistfulness in her voice that she and Sands identified at the same time. Oh god. Why did that seem to carry more truth than I wanted it to? Tess went into a momentary panic that Sands would press her for more, but he didn't. Not that she believed that he wouldn't later. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I wouldn't want to forget the baby."
Sands heard skittering footsteps as Tess hurried past him and into the house. And frankly, he was relieved. Over the past four days, Sands had spent a lot of time listening to Tess. He'd listened as she worked, listened as she told stories to the kids, listened as she hummed aimlessly, listened as she spent time teaching English to Marcos and whichever of the other kids who could sit still long enough for the lesson. He had listened as she spoke in endless riddles to herself, listened as she confirmed details with her friend, and listened with muted delight as she jumped every time she found him hovering behind her. Through all this listening, he'd figured out several things about her character; she was a bit high-strung, she'd obviously spent a lot of time reading to know so many quotes and stories, she was extremely patient almost to the point of being spineless – the only time she'd scolded him for lurking had been the time he'd surprised her in the shower – and she had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility. Not once in the past week could he remember her going to bed before everyone in the house was settled for the night, nor could he remember her putting off doing something simply because she didn't like the idea of doing it.
Sands had also noticed Tessa's nervous ticks. The way she tapped her fingers if he questioned her about something he'd overheard and was willing to get upset over if she gave him provocation, the continued hesitance in her step whenever she entered a room he was already in, the way she straightened whatever mess happened to be nearby if he brought up the cartels or the Day of the Dead, and her continued and growing dependence on quotes to carry on a conversation.
It was that last that had intrigued him the most. She seemed to constantly need some sort of audio stimulation. As he had listened to her hum and talk her way through the past days, he had started to wonder if she even knew that she did it. If she wasn't making any sounds herself, then there was usually a TV or radio on somewhere in the house providing white noise. Sands would give anything to learn what she was trying to avoid hearing. Just what was hiding behind so many meaningless and nonsensical quotes?
Maybe she's just so old that she's half deaf.
No, that's not it. If she were half deaf, she'd talk louder or ask people to repeat things.
His inner voice gave a mental shrug. Maybe it's got something to do with all those pills she takes day and night. Too bad you can't snoop in her medicine cabinet. Well, you can, you just wouldn't be able to read the labels.
Sands tried to ignore the voice, irritated that it had decided to latch onto this topic. Avoidance of this very scenario had been one of the reasons he'd spent so much time brushing up on his ability to remain a part of the background while hearing everything of importance – well, that and a knowledge that a thorough understanding of the layout of this new 'beat' could come in handy should any unwanted guests come knocking before they left.
Don't think that you were distracting me, Sands. I was just waiting until I had your full attention. Conversationally, it continued. You know, you really screwed it up back there, with Barillo and all. And most people would say that having your eyes drilled out of their sockets with sharp instruments is rather permanent. Yourself included. I remember when you were content to simply kill as many of the cartel as you could before you bit the dust. But now you think that a scatterbrained and most likely insane Mexican señorita is going to be able to help you change all that. The voice let out a low, nasty chuckle. Well, I'd advise you not to get your hopes up Shel-don. I think you, me, and the dark are going to be on a first name basis for some time to come. There was a pause before it continued. Of course, being blind in the U.S. is better than being blind in some little town in Mexico. At least back home you can collect disability and Welfare.
Fuck you.
You fucked us both over a week ago when you had to go and share your plan with that bitch you were bedding. Not your smartest move.
"Ready to get moving?"
Sands spun around as if she had caught him off guard. As he did so, he started to lost his balance, so it was with his arms flailing in the arm that he demanded, "What the hell did you just say?"
Tess looked at her patient oddly for a few seconds, amazed that she'd actually managed to startle the master of surprise. She also wondered just what he'd been thinking that had caused him to reply to her so violently. "I know what I am fleeing from but not what I am in search of." Who knew what was going on in that head that had so recently been blinded.
Was is her imagination, or did the set of Sands' shoulders relax a fraction before he said, "I don't know what you're trying to imply chiquita, but if you're telling me that you're ready to go, then don't let me stop you. You undoubtedly know the way to the car better than I do."
Careful not to wake the baby on her shoulder, Tess shrugged and stepped off the low porch, her footsteps firm. If Sands wasn't going to ask for help, she wouldn't offer any. Well, not beyond the cautionary warning she gave everyone who knew she was here: "Be careful of where you step – there's a lot of holes." At some point in time, the grass behind the house had actually been alive, but it had been allowed to grow freely. The result was a layer of tall, dead grass that hid all the holes lying in wait for the unwary. She herself had managed to twist her ankle the first week after she'd moved in. Sands didn't answer her, but she noticed that he was walking directly behind her. Accepting this, she ground her feet into the rocky earth, making her steps a bit more audible.
"So, where'd you go to school, señorita?"
Tess glanced over at the man half reclined in the passenger seat. They'd left the city behind some twenty or thirty minutes ago. The highway that led down the Mexican coast was mostly deserted, and the classical music she had playing on the radio didn't do much to relieve the silence coming from the back seat or the hum of the car as is rolled over the pavement. Returning her eyes to the road, she answered, "I went to school in the states."
From the corner of her eye, she saw him flip her off. "Yeah, you'd said that much already."
"Then why are you asking me again?"
"Let's just say I have nothing better to do than to poke my nose in your business."
Tess was quiet for a moment before commenting, "Of all men's miseries the bitterest is this, to know so much and to have control over nothing."
That stung. It reminded Sands too much of his current condition. He'd known all about the cartel's plans, and the movement of Marquez' army, and of "El's" grudge. What he hadn't known of was Ajedrez' loyalties. Which brought him to his next point. "Knowledge is power, if you know it about the right person." Sands liked that quote, considered it one of his creeds. A person could get away with murder if only he knew the right information about the right people.
"Knowledge without conscience is the ruination of the soul."
"I thought we had already discussed that particular subject." Tess didn't answer, which Sands assumed meant she didn't have a quote for that particular comment. He waited for her to go on the defensive again, and when she didn't he took that as unwilling acceptance for him to question her. "So, where did you go to school?"
"Harvard." The word was pulled from her mouth as easily as food is pulled from the hand of a starving man.
Impressed, Sands raised his eyebrows, then regretted it as the move caused the fine cotton weave of the bandages to send pathways of fire around and into his empty sockets. Holding back a gasp, he asked, "A Crimson are you?"
Tess didn't like the breathless quality to her patient's voice, but knew another offer of painkillers would be turned down. Sands didn't want to be hopped up on drugs, afraid that it would impair his mind and senses. She understood, but disagreed; pain could alter reality as surely as the most effective painkiller. "You could say that, although I was never one for school spirit." Maybe if I keep talking, he'll settle down and be able to focus on something else. Although if things get worse, I'll talk him into taking something. "That's not to say I didn't go to a game or two. I just didn't go to support the team."
"What'd you go for?"
"Let's see . . . ." Did she really want to tell him? She'd pulled some crazy stunts with Logan. "Once we –"
"Who's 'we'?"
"Me and Logan. Anyway, we snuck into the other team's locker room, and stole their mascot's costume. And another time we replaced half the baseballs for a play-off game with balls we'd hollowed out and filled with . . . umm, I think we used PreparationH." Her companion was doing a poor job of smothering his laughter. "And one other time I went to provide the get-away car after Logan had talked a bunch of our friends into mooning the field-hockey team." She laughed. "Logan was the one who got me started on my daily jogs. I discovered I needed them to build up enough stamina to outrun angry athletes, among other nearly felonious reasons."
"Why, chiquita. I didn't know you had it in you."
Tess was focused on passing a semi, so wasn't thinking when she answered, "After so many years at the compound I had a lot of stuff in me. Mainly an overwhelming sense of freedom whenever it was granted. Not that it ever lasted long. I always had to go back."
"Compound?"
Sands' voice wasn't necessarily loud or heavy with peril, but it carried a hint of suspicion that was sharper than the finest scalpel. Tess realized what she had just said, and cursed herself. The easiest thing to do would be to lie to cover her tracks, but she found herself unable to do so. She owed this man more than lies, but the truth would destroy any chance of helping him that she had. "Yes. I told you that I was taken in by the cartel as a child. That wasn't always the case. I remember living in a small town somewhere near a forest as a young child, when I was three or four. But eventually my Father went to work for the cartel, and that's when I was moved from my home to the compound. For training, among other things." All of this was true, just not detailed. Tess did remember living in a small village somewhere on the edge of a rain forest-like area, and she remembered the move to the cartel's main compound. The only obscure bit was the part about her father – she didn't think it was wise to mention that he'd become the new leader after killing his uncle, and that he'd decided that she could fill a role for his own successor. Barillo had always been one to look after the long-term. How this man had managed to throw a monkey wrench into his plans, she still couldn't fathom. "Needless to say, it was a grim place to grow up. And if you wanted to survive, you grew up fast."
"You knew Armando Barillo? Personally?" Another tricky question. There was a more overt edge to his voice now, one that warned her that she was balancing on a blade of ice. Well, Tess was used to precarious balancing acts. She could handle this one.
"No. I didn't know him. I knew of him, but I was never close enough to him to actually know him." Again, all true. Despite the fact he'd donated half her genetic makeup, she'd never known the man. He'd held her at arm's length, disgusted by her for some reason she couldn't fathom. She'd seen how harsh he could be, how cruel, how unforgiving. But there had to have been more to the man than that. There had to have been some side of him that he had shown to Ajedrez that had made the other woman so loyal and devoted to him. Tess just wasn't sure what that side was. "All the time that I was with the cartel, I just tried to avoid him."
After the first time, that was. She'd been barely five years old when she'd been summoned to the compound in the foothills of the Sierra Madres. Her nurse had told her that her father had asked her to come, that he finally wanted to meet his daughter, and she'd been so happy. And being an innocent, she'd run up to the man once he'd been pointed out to her, and she'd tried to hug him. What she'd gotten for her trouble was a broken wrist from being thrust away from the only parent she knew of. She hadn't even cried, she'd been so stunned, so bewildered. What had she done?
At times, Tessa still wondered that. Twenty-five years later, and she still couldn't figure out what she'd done to be treated so harshly. Maybe it was just some flaw less visible than her blue eyes. A layer of dirt that didn't show on her dusky skin. Some sort of invisible failing that followed in her very shadow. "Anyway, as you can imagine, I went a bit wild with my first taste of freedom. It didn't matter that it was limited. It was still better than anything I'd felt before in my life."
"Are you telling me that there's a wild girl hiding somewhere under that professional exterior of yours?" So full of twists, his little angel of death. Just as he thought that he had her figured out – that he'd managed to ferret out all her motivations and thinking processes – she added another jumbled layer to her psyche. Sands had never considered that she'd actually been raised in the very bosom of the cartel. He'd thought that she'd been raised on some marijuana farm somewhere, then had been sent away for training when it became apparent that she had an aptitude or interest in medicine. But no, she'd spent her childhood is the shadow of none other than the cartel leader himself. It made Sands wonder what she was capable of. And she wasn't helping him unravel the puzzle.
When several minutes went by without Tess answering his somewhat suggestive question, Sands tried another approach. "So you don't follow the old team?"
"No. It's hard enough to keep in contact with the few friends I kept from college. I was never much of a team player. It's just that sometimes I found it was better to be around others than it was to be alone. Silence has a way of being too loud at times."
It was true that silence could be loud. Sands, to distract himself from the discomfort that the drive was causing, questioned Tess about her background, history, musical preferences, and scores of other topics. There were many questions that Tess chose not to answer out of a feeling that doing so would endanger her plans to help Sands. Others she ignored because she thought that an honest answer would simply give away more than she was willing to reveal to this man. If he truly believed that knowledge of the right people was power, then he obviously thought that she needed to be kept under a tight rein.
His interrogation had lasted most of the four hour drive, but it was the intermittent silences that were distressing her the most. She knew that with every question she didn't answer, he gleaned something else about her. She would have preferred he didn't talk at all, but the silence of the empty car was too much for her to stand. So she had listened to the man's questions, and answered when it suited her.
It was with a strong sense of relief that Tess pulled into the parking lot of a motel on Mazatlán's outskirts. From its appearance, she guessed that it was a step below a Motel 6. But it had cable and a pool – and most importantly vacancies – so she parked the van and went inside to see about renting a room.
Using her own fake ID to get the room and using cash to pay for it, Tess returned to the van with two room keys and several complementary bottles of water. Handing one to Sands in the front seat, she said, "This seems to be as good a place as any to stay for a few hours until it's time to meet the plane at the airport."
"What time are we supposed to meet the plane?"
"Umm . . . four o'clock. And it's about five thirty now. I thought this would be a good place to keep the kids entertained. They can swim, and watch TV. And you can get some sleep."
"I've gotten a bit more sleep that you have, niña." It seemed as if he had spent more of the past week asleep than awake, and the inactivity grated on him.
"I'm fine. Besides, I'll be able to sleep on the plane."
Of course she would say that. "How many hours of sleep have you had in the past two days?" If she insisted upon being stupid, then the least he could do was give her hell for being so.
Tess took a moment to think about his question. Upon reflection, the number was disturbingly low.
"How many, chiquita? How many hours in the last forty-eight have you spent with your eyes closed?"
"Seven or eight." Actually, eight hours was pushing the limits of believability, but it sounded better than six.
"Tired people make mistakes, niña. And now really isn't the time to risk being stupid."
"And if I go to sleep, who will watch the children? I took them in for a reason, señor. They're my –"
"Your responsibility," he interrupted. "You've mentioned that a time or two. What good are you to them if you start hallucinating because of sleep deprivation? You say you're a doctor, so you should know better than to run yourself ragged."
"Not all hallucinations are caused by a lack of sleep, señor. And not all minds are fooled by tempting voices. I'll be fine. Do you want to stay here while I get the children to the room, or would you like to join us?"
Sands shrugged. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't give a damn if la chiquita wanted to gamble with her mental health, but these were anything but normal circumstances. He may not want to admit it, but his current wellbeing depended on this woman keeping her wits about her. From what he could tell, this was a difficult endeavor for her on a daily basis without throwing in a lack of sleep. Once he was safely back on US soil, he didn't care if she stayed up until she had mental breakdown – right now he had to make sure she got in a nap at some point before they left for the airport.
"I'll come with you." For the first time, Sands blessed being in close quarters with this odd woman. It would be easier to wear her down. Or knock her unconscious. Whatever the situation may call for.
Despite her resolution to remain awake for the nine or so hours before they had to leave for the airport, Tess dozed off once or twice. Sands, to her consternation, was sticking close to the group. She'd expected him to stay in the room, recovering from the drive and listening to the news, or something like that. Instead, he shadowed her down to the pool when the kids decided they'd had enough of cartoons.
It was sitting by the pool that had gotten her in trouble. The kids were perfectly content to entertain themselves with water games. The wife of the hotel manager had dug out a small wading pool that she and Tess filled with a few inches of water for Selena to play in. Sands was sitting in a nearby deck chair, the bandages off of his face for the first time, sunglasses firmly straddling his nose, suit coat left in the room in diffidence to the warm sun. Unless someone removed them, they wouldn't know that he was blind; he appeared to be watching the kids like any responsible adult would. Tess, sitting in another chair – one that required one to lounge more than sit upright – had dozed off as the sun made her comfortably warm.
The first few times she had caught herself sliding towards sleep, she jerked her head upright, and held her eyes wide open. Sleep wasn't an option at the moment. Just because she had reason to believe that they hadn't been followed from Culíacan to Mazatlán was no reason to stop being vigilant. The cartel still had employees in the area, and it was possible that one or two of them would know her. After waking herself up for the fifth time, Tessa had gotten up and walked around, making several laps around the small courtyard. It kept her awake for about ten minutes after sitting back down. Sleep had beckoned irresistibly though, and Tess finally gave in, her eyes sliding shut against the sun's glare.
The sun was hot. It was always hot. But today it was worse. This morning she'd been caught without her blindfold. Tess couldn't have been more than fourteen or so at the time, and she was well used to living without her sight, but there had been a thunderstorm the night before, and she had thought that just once – just once – it would be nice to watch lightning split the sky without it being a punishment. She'd waited until the height of the storm had passed, waiting for her father to show up and remove the blindfold to make her watch, but he never came. With trembling fingers she had lifted the scrap of silk-lined canvass from her eyes. She was smart enough not to open them for several minutes. The blue-white bolts of electricity would fry her retinas, causing more pain that was believable. When she had judged that enough time had passed for her eyes to adjust, she'd opened them a crack. The storm was just passing over the mountains, providing a dramatic backdrop to the craggy heights. It was beautiful. Almost worth being caught. The small rebellion had almost been worth it.
Or at least it had been a few hours before. Now Teresa had been out in the sun all day long without shade, water, sunscreen, or relief. Her skin was red with sunburn, her mouth was too dry for her to talk, and her head ached with the glare of the sun on the white-granite courtyard. Her head was fuzzy, her thoughts so scrambled that she could have sworn she was hearing voices. Well, not voices exactly, just the one that normally whispered in the back of her head. The one that spoke all the thoughts she tried to hide from herself. Most of the time she thought this was her conscience and that everyone had to put up with its interfering. But now she wasn't so sure.
Hello Teresa. She refused to talk back to herself. I know you can hear me. I know how bored you are . . . how lonely. Why don't you talk to me? I'll be your friend. Tess didn't reply, unsure about how one went about telling a voice in your head that you didn't want it there. Talk to me? She didn't. She wouldn't. She no longer thought this was normal. Perhaps this is why her father didn't love her. Don't you want to be my friend, Teresa? No she didn't want to be its friend. If you're not my friend, then I'll make you my enemy. I'll make you your own enemy. Do you want that? Of course you don't. Come play with me Tessa . . . come play with me and ignore everything else. Come play, come play, come play . . . . No. No, she didn't want to play. She wanted to be normal. She wanted to be like everyone else. She wanted to be like her sister. "No."
"No." Sands heard the quiet yet insistent desperation in Tessa's voice.
"What's wrong, niña?"
"No. Go away. Please. I don't want to listen any more." She wasn't talking to him and her voice was getting louder. Cursing, Sands pulled a gun out of his pant pocket, and demanded, "Kid, left or right?" If there was someone here who had sent Tess into a panic, then they were in serious trouble.
"What are you talking about, señor?" It dawned on Sands that while Tess sounded distressed, the kids were still playing. Their laughter and yells denied the existence of a problem.
"Never mind, go back to whatever you were doing." The woman was having nightmares again. Did she ever manage to sleep and not have them? That was a stupid question coming from the man who couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up and not been in a cold sweat.
Cautiously walking forward, Sands advanced on Tessa's position, pistol still at the ready just in case there was some threat that the kids hadn't identified. His shins banged into the edge of Tessa's chair. But before he could locate her with his hand, she jerked upright in her chair, slamming into his arm; his bullet wound complained at the rough treatment.
"Oh, God." Sands got the impression that Tess was praying, not cursing. "Not now. I can't take it now."
"Take what?" He heard a startled intake of breath. Had she really not noticed that she'd run into him when she'd woken up? Or had the blow been relegated to the realm of sleep?
"Nothing. I'm fine. I'll be fine." Tess remembered Sands suggesting that a lack of sleep would produce hallucinations. She remembered that she'd laughed. She'd laughed because he hadn't understood that she didn't fear the hallucinations that came when she was awake. The hallucinations, the hallucination, that she feared had come, had started one summer day in Mexico as she'd started to fall asleep under the sun. And she still hadn't managed to wake up.
The voice in the back of her head laughed.
************************************************************
Quotes: Aeschylus; Death (?); Diogenes; Reaper Man, Terry Pratchett; Michael de Montaigne; Herodotus; Ethel Watts Mumford; Francois Rabelais
Author's Thanks: thanks to TaraRose, Miss Becky, Merrie, kinkyfrodo, Trish, Blank, Bitchy Little Pixy, Ashley (my beloved and hardworking beta), and kaliko, who wanted to know if I was dead. : )
New reviewers this chapter are: Vaughn, kiare, bboarding232, Lisa, Adrejon, and Marie. It was great to hear from all of you. Normally I'd try to write a little note to each of you, but I'm pressed for time at the moment. Just know that I was rooting for you . . . . wait, wrong movie. : ) Anyway, each of you brightened my day, and I appreciate you all more than you know.
