Smoke Gets in Your Eyes

By

E. S. Young

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Seeing is Decieving

While writing this story, I figured that I'd need a better understanding of the human mind before I went and wrote a character like Sands let alone created one like Lynné. So, in order to do that, I needed to delve into psychology a bit. Veeery interesting stuff. For instance, the cause of stigmata may lie within a person's own mind. Scientists are beginning to suspect that people think that they're really bleeding from the wrists, ankles, or head, and if they concentrate hard enough on it, they will trigger something in the mind that causes said limbs to bleed. This is why it usually occurs in devoutly religious people; they've had the image of the crucifix imprinted in their mind all of their lives, therefore it makes sense if they're wrists or ankles bleed. Out loud they may be trying to convince themselves that they'll stop bleeding and that the wounds will heal, but after seeing the visible evidence, it's kinda hard to convince yourself of that, y'know?

Sands: I know. But I think you could simplify that a bit. And what does this have to do with anything?

Sidney: (defensively) I'm getting to that. u.u; A better example would be catching a cold. Your throat may be sore and you may be a little congested, but you're not really sick. You feel lousy and don't wanna go to school, so you may just repeat to yourself over and over again that your throat hurts, you feel like hell, you can't go to school, etceteras. But, really, it's in your mind; you're convincing yourself that you're sick when you really aren't. . . . Unless you are, then go see a doctor. O.o

Sands: And this has to do with the story . . . how?

Sidney: Fiiine . . . if you really must know . . . Certain things trigger other things in the mind. Seeing the crucifix, a person begins to think about how painful it must have been, and they begin to bleed from the writs – mind you, this has to be some intense, long-contemplated thinking you're doing, after all, it's just a theory scientists have. Also, feeling terrible, a person doesn't want to go to work or school, and so they begin to believe that they really are extremely ill.

Sands: (holds out his hand expectantly) -.6?

Sidney: 9.9 And seeing a woman who you mistake for the lover who betrayed you may cause a person to freak out, panic, and bring back horrible memories of living in darkness, therefore resulting in losing your sight . . . again.

Sands: u.u Thank you. . . . . . o.o What?

VVV

A pale hand flew to her mouth as Zebbidy barely managed to contain a gasp. Her eyes widened in horror only to squeeze shut a few seconds later as she cringed. A bullet had pelted through the air, ripping through the CIA agent who stood below her. How he could bear to stand after being shot so close . . . what if his lung had been punctured, she wondered frantically. She bit down hard on her fingers to keep from screaming, never mind the blood that filled her mouth. The only thing that mattered now was Sands. What was wrong with him?? He had just been shot . . . had the bullet gone through the left side of his chest instead of the right he would have died.

Do something! she urged, though she didn't know if it was an order for herself or a silent plea for Sands. Goddamn it, what's wrong!?

The scream that had been contained inside her throat finally escaped in the form of a small cry as Zebbidy watched Poisson's gunman embed another bullet in the agent's body. Still, Sands remained motionless. This new bullet, unlike the previous one, had only clipped him. It had torn through his torso, but it had also taken a hunk of his skin and a long stream of blood along with it. Grinning in satisfaction, the mobster raised his gun to fire again.

I'll never get down there in time, she thought in despair. Oh, gods, what do I do . . . ?

It came to her slowly, unwanted and without her consent, but sure enough the answer came to her. As horrible, monstrous, and ruthless an answer it was, Zebbidy knew that it was her only option. Finally, she looked down, and her eyes landed on the small pistol in her hand.

No . . . it would be wrong. By doing it she would be breaking the most meaningful, the most sacred rule she knew . . . She'd be harming the innocent.

But that guy's not exactly innocent . . . and I'd be doing it to protect another . . .

Her vibrant green eyes, so full of concern, only had to hover on the bleeding, unfluctuating CIA agent for a fraction of a second before she made up her mind.

Even from her distant perch on the balcony, Zebbidy could see the thug's thick, callused finger begin to tighten around the trigger of his firearm. Spreading her feet for support, Zebbidy trained her gun until it was perfectly in line with the mobster's head. It would be the least painful way, that was the least she could do.

Before she could back out of her decision, before anything rose to remind her that what she was about to do was wrong, that there would be no turning back after this, that she would forever taint herself if she continued . . . a shot rang out, ricocheting off of the arched walls of the spacious hallway. It vibrated, the horrible, haunting sound resounding over and over again all around her. But it never reached Zebbidy's ears for they were filled with a noise that was by far more terrible. It was a noise that would stay with her until her dying day, a noise that would leave an imprint on her mind. It was the sound of a body falling to the ground as all life was drained from it, a noise that caused Zebbidy to go temporarily deft as she pelted down the stairs.

VVV

He wanted to scream, to yell his head off so badly it hurt. But he couldn't. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Instead, he settled for propelling his tightly wound fist into the smooth, stone floor beneath him. Despite the force of his abuse, the only sound he received was a dull 'THUD.' Not good enough.

With all the strength he could muster, he slammed his gun into the floor with such brutality that it was bound to leave a crack that ran along the entire hallway. The vibrating 'BANG!!' that shook the world around him assured him of that. It echoed painfully in his head, but still it wasn't enough.

Again, he pounded his fist into the floor, and felt the jagged ends of bullet shells dig into his skin, but he didn't care. The urge to howl was still with him, and he would fight it. He had to. Even if it meant total self-mutilation, he would fight it.

VVV

Zebbidy froze where she stood, unable to keep the air inside her lungs any longer.

She had seen many cadavers in her day, but never one this gruesome, never one that had been killed by her own hands.

Gun, she reminded herself forcefully, I killed him with a gun Therefore, that's not actually killing him myself . . . right?

No one answered, not that she had expected anyone to. At least, not around here. As Zebbidy contemplated this while she hurried down the staircase, a thought struck her.

I broke it . . . I broke the rede . . . I'll never be able to go back now. They'll know. Someone will have had to have seen that, and they'll alert the Council . . . I'm slandered their name – my ­name! They won't let me live that down. They'll banish me . . . oh, gods, where will I go . . . ?

The panicked ramblings quickly evaporated when a small, gasping noise came from behind her.

Her eyes filled with pain, Zebbidy watched as the agent, who had remained standing even as two bullets had pierced his body, collapsed before her eyes. Sprinting down the last four steps, she rushed to his side, green skirts whipping around her.

VVV

Oh God . . . What . . . what happened?

Rosathe voice answered simply, sounding positively evil. Rosa happened.

W-what? Sands managed to choke out as he stared around wildly. Nothing met his eyes, unless one counted darkness and Sands didn't.

You saw Rosa, the voice explained, speaking in its slow tone that was reserved for moments like these it thought Sands had said 'What?' too many times. Then you couldn't move. Then that big, hulking man over there –

What big, hulking man?

. . . . What? Oh, the voice said in mock-surprised, sneering as it played dumb. I understand now . . . You're BLIND again, aren't you?

No . . . God, he hated how lost and helpless he sounded now. But that's because this is a dream. A dream . . . this is another. . . fucking dream sent to me by That Bitch. None of this really happened . . . I'm really asleep . . . I'm just coming undone. That's what always happens before I . . . wake up . . .

He waited. Anticipation gnawed at him, but he ignored it. Any second now he was going to wake up, just like every other time. Whenever things got ugly, whenever he lost his sight, he would always have to wait – suffer through it for a few minutes before being treated to the welcome light again. This time should be no different.

Except nothing happened.

See? the voice chided. Told ya.

No . . . No, no . . . I'm not . . .

Not what? it asked innocently. Blind? 'Fraid so, Sheldon.

Oh my Christ . . . . oh God . . . I can't be . . . how

Rosa, the voice answered promptly. Ya saw her, froze up, went blind . . . Nice job, there, sport. Way ta go.

That sounds like a good idea, he agreed thoughtfully.

What? I didn't sugge –

I'm getting' the fuck outta here.

You – what the fuck? Sands!

He didn't need to try to ignore the voice's protests. Everything moved in a blur, even though Sands found himself engulfed in darkness once again. He tried to run, jog, skip – anything to get away from the blackness that surrounded him – but found that he couldn't. A pair of arms were encircling him.

His immediate reaction was to wrench them off and bolt, but for some reason his left arm wasn't functioning properly. He couldn't move it.

Oh shit, he gasped, loosing it. I never left. I . . . Mexico . . . I'm still there . . . I'm still in fucking Mexico! It's still the Day of the Dead!!

Again, he attempted to run, but his effort was wasted. All that happened was a mere drainage of energy. The arms were still around him, but they had done nothing more than that. And suddenly he realized. They were not the harsh, brutal, muscular arms of a Mafia crony. They were delicate, warm, and oddly comforting amidst the painful whirlwind he had been thrown into. They were arms that belonged to a person, not a man-turned-machine from Poisson's mob. They belonged to a woman, who was whispering quietly to him, assuring him that everything would be all right, that he would be okay, that he just needed to calm down . . . breathe . . .

VVV

"Shh . . .It's all right, you're okay . . ."

To Zebbidy, the words sounded cheap, phony, like false reassurance. How could anything be okay when they were stuck like this!? But if she could just get the man in her arms to breathe, then everything would start looking a lot better. For the both of them.

VVV

Through his ever-changing haze, Sands was vaguely aware that his head was being pressed against a woman's chest – her generous, abundant chest – but he couldn't bring himself to think of anything beyond that. What would be the point? He couldn't see them. Imagination was one thing, but the real thing was a whole other story.

VVV

Okay, this one was really short. I cannot stress how sorry I am for that, but – and this'll sound annoying – but that was all I wanted to get out in this chapter. If there was anything else, I can think of what it could be. But! Since I finished it earlier, that means that the next chapter will probably be longer :D!

Author's Thanks and Review Responses:

Dawnie-7: lol, I couldn't help but notice how in the movie Sands, who is usually so calm and collected, was panicking when he learned that the cartel was on to him. Despite his efforts, he did freak out, and that's kinda what gave me the suspicion that, in the right circumstances, he does not do well under pressure. But, no, I wasn't kidding, sadly. :( Things went downhill and fast for Sands and Company. Aren't gonna get much better either, unfortunately. But the next chapters are (hopefully) bound to be interesting! :)

Lynx Ryder: Don't worry, I won't keep you in the dark (saying this lightly o.o;;) about Rosa for long. I'm with you though, I always though it was a pretty name. Too bad she turns out to be such an evil person, but c'est la vie.

Sands: Enough with the damn French. 9.9 I get my fill from that kid Lyn dragged home with her.

Sidney: XP Jerk. Wait, 'bewitching??' o.o Thank you! I've never gotten a comment like that before! :D

DragonHunter200: (ducks for cover) I will! Trust me, everything will be all right in the end. I can't say any more than that without leaking plot information, but everything will work out eventually. And you said 'groovy!' :D I love that word and don't use it as much as I used to. And I'm glad you enjoyed the action. God knows I'm not used to writing it 9.6;;

The Gilatas Monter: (still hiding under her desk) Sorry! I knew you'd hate that but I never said he was dead! And Lyn and Liam will show up soon, Zeb did help Sands, and Rosa will get her cumuppance. u.u And Stephan will be, eh . . . avenged, I guess. Although I really don't know who would avenge him . . . Moreau maybe? Yeah. That's who. Cuz they were really secret lovers. I just forgot to mention it until now. u.u;;;

o