Author's Notes: This is the first fanfic I ever wrote. It's not the best, but I think it's pretty good for a first-timer. -blushes- I'm still proud of it. :]
Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time in Mexico and all it's characters belong to the director of the movie, Robert Rodriguez.
"Take a look around, Sands. Now you see it,"
Sands looked around, trying to comprehend the fact that his men had betrayed him; that his woman was smirking, looking extremely satisfied with the fact that she had double-crossed him, and he could hardly speak. He saw the letters in his head, they formed words, then sentences, but he could not get them out. No! Fucking cheaters! You lying scoundrels, you... But nothing happened. The burly hispanic man pulled something out of his pocket - what was that? It was hazy, the room seemed to be spinning. Sunlight from the window caught the shiny object, and bounced off into Sands' eyes. He tried to raise his hand to his face and shield his eyes, but his arms felt heavy; and he could not move them. A knife. No, too thin... A fork? No - only one prong. A needle? Some kind of... needle...
The sharp metal was raised to his eye and Sands could say nothing. It was the ultimate hell: thinking, but being unable to move or speak. As the cool needle pierced his eyes, he could see nothing, he could feel nothing. Everything was black for a moment, but then the pain shot through him like a thousand stabbing knives.
"Now you don't."
The man should have died. This man, however, was so determined to live that his mental state overcame the physical pain he was in, and he survived. He was then thrown outside, given only a pair of glasses, a crimson liquid dripping down his cheeks; staining his soft skin. For the first time in his life, he could no longer see this huge world that stood before him. The things that he'd taken for granted his entire life were suddenly snatched away from him without a word of warning. He had to rely solely on his instincts, his hearing, every little noise he had to pick up and treat it as if it were a threat. Screaming, wanting to cry out, to break down... it's too hard to go on...
Sands stumbled down the steps, arms out at full length for any sign of people or motorists. He stood there for a moment, at the bottom step, feeling blank. Like something was missing. Fucking hell, could it be my fucking eyes?! He stumbled forward, trying to keep his balance, not fall off the sidewalk, not run into anyone...
When one of your primary senses is destroyed, the others suddenly become more perceptive. It was the first time he'd noticed the hum of the electrical wires above him, the gravel beneath his feet, the menacing man's footsteps behind him... when it hit him, just as hard as the single moment his eyes had been so viciously taken from him...
I will never see again.
It was then that he heard that familiar, familiar yet oh-so-annoying bell. It was the kid! The boy on the bicycle! Sands tried to call out to the child but no sound came out. Come on you fucker, the took your eyes, not your voicebox! Sands swallowed and spoke, "Hey, you, boy!" It seemed as though that was the most intelligent thing he could find to say. Sands turned around - where was that damn kid? He was there, he had to be... Left? Right? The bell sounded again. "Si, Senor?" Yes, it was him. "Boy, come here." Sands heard the gravel beneath the boy's bicycle tires crumble. He was getting closer, he was coming up on the right side of him...
"Come on boy, leave your bike here and walk with me. Is there a man following us?" The child dropped his bicycle and did as he was told, he turned around. Though Sands could not see him, he could feel the presence of the boy and hear him shifting to turn around. "Si." Shit.
The man was large, with a moustache that curled at the tips. It almost looked like it was a mistake; and the man had forgotten to trim the ends. He sensed that Sands was onto him, so he reached into his pants pocket and wrapped his fingers around the cold metal of his gun, feeling the power... Loving the power, knowing that with just one smooth motion, he was in control of two people' lives.
"Act natural, boy." There was no language barrier between Sands and the boy. Although they did not speak the same language, the could understand eachother; sense eachother's emotions, even thought a word of communication. Sand could sense something was very wrong behind him, he wanted to badly to turn around, look the man in the eye, and shoot him. Bastard. Sands' back suddenly tensed, and his legs no longer worked... he stood, unmoving, knowing what was about to happen.
Sands had no time to reach for the gun, and even if he did, where would he shoot it? Up? Down? Left? Right? He couldn't tell, he couldn't see. The chances he'd hit the man in a target area were slim to none.
It was then that the burly man behind them whipped out his pistol, gave a low, evil chuckle, and put a bullet right through Sands. Not a bullet that just pierced his skin and was wedged somewhere in his liver, or stomach... No. it was a high caliber gun. The bullet entered Sands' back, and exited through the front of his stomach.
Sands crumpled to the ground. The man waved his pistol at the boy, and as any young child would do, the boy tore off - without his bicycle, obviously afraid. It was off, the wave of shock that came over Sands after he was shot. He knew that a bullet had been put through him. It was cold, not just his chest, but everything was suddenly cold. The man with the gun walked casually past Sands, and Sands lay alone, on the cold ground.
When you're in extreme pain like Sands was, you're not supposed to have much sense of time. It could have been ten minutes or ten hours, but when the boy returned, something in Sands came alive.
"Senor?" The boy said meekly. Sands was now fully in control of his brain - he could think, he simply wanted to tell the boy what to do, who to contact. Is it really fucking worth it anymore? I can't see. I can't speak. I can't fucking move. Just let me die here, right now, right now. I'm not supposed to be alive, maybe I'm not even alive anymore.
Then Sands lost complete control of his thoughts. Nothing existed anymore, just empty space. It was a damn miracle that he even woke up again.
When Sands woke up, he had no idea where he was. A normal person could look around at their surroundings and immediately know where they were. Sands had to rely on his other senses, smell... it smelled clean. Clean? Sterile. He moved his head to the side just so slightly so he could listen for clues. A slow beeping noise - what was that? His pulse quickened and the beeping got faster. Oh my God, it's a fucking heart monitor. I'm in a hospital. Jesus, who brought me here? Is there anybody with me?
It was almost like she could hear his thoughts. Her, the woman who was once the person Sands couldtrust. The only person Sands could trust. He put all his faith in her, everything he knew, and now look. She was betraying him all along. There she sat, right next to him, in the uncomfortable plastic hospital chair, in Sands' room. Yet he had no idea. Maybe if he could've seen her, he would have done something. Something drastic. Pulled out a gun, maybe. Put a shot in her, it would be fair. Fair. Something that Sands would never know...
She rose. Stood right over him, yet until she spoke, he would never know. He never even got a chance to know. She pulled out a pistol and shot him, square in the chest. She smiled, turned on her heels, and walked out into the hot Mexican sun.
"All in a day's work."