Because I knew I was going to writhe this end, I already made a poem of it a couple of month back. Called 'Sands of time,' Check it out if you like. Same thing about, 'Slowly I'll disappear', also about this Sands.

Many thanks to: Sands-agent, don't wory those loos ends will be cleared. Kentucky Fried Chicken: I argee, he's not a bad guy. Kay he killed half Mexico but in a very, very strange way he's more of the good guy. Me-Loves-Orli:Hell, YEAH I'm going to continue! And thanks to Lynn for reading:D

Disclaim: Don't own anything, you know the drill, it's from him ( point's at Robert Rodriquez)

Chapter 41)What comes around goes around.

White walls, white walls. He knew it without sight. He was there in a room of white walls. And he was all alone.

No, not entirely alone. The voices where back every time the medication wore out. But if he sat very quiet and didn't move they would stay back. So that was what he did every day, every second of his life. Every time, because that's all what he had left.

'And I deserve it because I let her get killed. She died because of me.' He lifted his arm slowly and touched his face. Bandages stopped him from injuring his face. Some voice he didn't knew even told hem he would get a straitjacket if he would hurt himself. But he had to, he needed to bleed for all the things he had done. Maybe that way someone, anyone, would understand he was punished enough and end it. 'Please, that anyone, come quick…'

He couldn't remember how long he'd been here. He lost track of time. First he tried to carve strips into the wall. Then he realised he couldn't make day out of night. After ten stripes he stopped.

In fact he stopped with everything. Why would he fight back and get beaten again. He'd been there already so he knew there was no end out of it. He was helpless, not strong enough to kill someone. Half of the day he was drugged and the other half was one big hellhole. Voices he couldn't hush, burning pain in his head and getting forced to eat something. He hated it.

But sometimes someone would walk in and talk to him. It was a she and she had the same high girlish voice as… But she was gone. Fucking irony. Maybe God's sick twisted humour. Fuck God.

A low cold laugh echoed throw the room. Ore was it in his head? He lowered his head and made himself as small as possible. Suddenly someone grabbed his shoulder forceful and he winched back. Quickly he cocked his head up but saw no-one.

He tensed. He could see again. 'Fuck, need to wake up!' He hit himself in the face. 'Wake up fuckshit, before-'

"To late Shel, owh boy you're back again!" The voice started to laugh.

'Go away!'

"Hell no, finally you're trapped and you can't run from him. I'm staying to see you get beaten every time you fall asleep…"

"NO!" His head snapped form side to side, white walls, white walls. Nothing to hide under. Just a iron bed, nothing more. He could hide, couldn't escape. He looked at his hands and saw them tremble. Cold sweat started to run over his cheek. 'No, they brought me back.' In time it seemed. Right at the moment the white man changes his whole life by saying-

"Sheldon?"

'Mom?' No, please let her not come back. She can't see me like this. She'll hate me!

"She already hates you Shel, she doesn't need to see you to know what kind of sick bastard you've become."

'Motherfucker!'

"No, that would be you're daddy. But don't cry he will be here soon…"

"Sheldon? You killed that girl?"

'No!...Maybe- I don't know…'

"You did Shel. She trusted you and you let her down so hard. One second you dropped you're guard and she got hit and you didn't do a think to help her. She was dying and you just let her go! You deserve to be here! Trapped forever for everything you've done! And I'll be sitting here and enjoy the show."

'No! that's not true, she died because of that shitfuck, not because of me!'

"Really? Let's ask her. She's right over there…"

He held his breath and shivers run over his body. Slowly he looked up and gasped. She lied there, on the ground in a pool of blood. Hair hung for her eye's, he couldn't see her face. But he knew it was her, she wore the bracelet.

Slowly he pushed himself up and stared at her. "Lizzy? Lizzy-O?"

A movement flow through her body and she spook."You killed me. I hate you."

"NO!NO! I DIDN'T!" He dropped on his knees and he slammed on the white floor. "I didn't! I didn't! I didn't!" Every time she kept dying and every time he was to late to stop it. His hands hurt, he knew they would be bruised. But he had to tell her he didn't. Because if he did he really deserved to be in this self-created hell. So he kept slamming at the floor and screamed.

Until a needle stuck in his arm and the white got replaced by black. He went quiet and his body relaxed against the wall. He heard people walk away. He tried to fight the drug they but in him again. He didn't want to get medicated, didn't they get that?

"Señor Sands?"

Fuck it was her again, miss-talk-to-much, his punishment with a to much alike voice. He sighted and hoped she would go away soon.

"Who is Lins?"

His head snapped at her direction. It was one thing she sounded like her, but now she was fucking talking about her!

Dr. Dominquez stared at her patient. For the first time in months he had truly looked up at her. A breakthrough! She smiled. "Was she family? Ore was Lins you're wife?" His muscles tightened and something in his face changed. Before she knew what happened he grabbed her blouse and pulled her close.

She gave a scream and tried to get loose out of his iron grip. She looked from side to side, hoping to find something useful.

"Lizz."

She froze and looked up. "What did you say?"

"Lizz, you dumbshit, Lizz."

Her eye's grew wide. He talked to her, he wasn't as far gone as she had thought he would be. She then remember he still got his hand clutched around her blouse. She tried to pull loose and when that didn't work she yelled for the nurses.

The man grinned when he got dragged unto the wall. "Fake bitch, go to hell." He grinned and kept staring at her with a penetrating gaze.

A bit uncomfortable she stood up and ordered the man to keep a eye on the señor. She kept cold until she walked into her office. She dropped on her chair and took a deep breath. Off course it wasn't the first time a patient grabbed her ore yelled at her. But somehow it felt different. She couldn't place it, but there was something wrong about this case. Why would his files concealed so many things. About his medical report, his birthplace and his friends ore family. It was clear he had still some one left he cared about else he wouldn't have say her name.

She got knocked out of her thoughts by the creaking sound of a opening door. A tall Latino man with long black hair wearing it in a ponytail stepped in. Confused he looked around.

"Not the janitors room I suppose?"

She smiled, placing the maps of her patient back. "No, this is my office."

The man smiled and scratched a bit embarrassed his head. "It's my first day here, I have no idea where everything is."

"No problem, I remember my first day. It felt like I ended in a labyrinth with all the walls and rooms." She stood up and introduced herself. "Djessey Dominguez, psychologist and doctor of sector four."

"Juan Guenzõ."

"Sone of God, nice name. So where do you have to go?"

He shrugged. "Not, sure I was ordered to observe some of the patients. Making some files about there behaviour, you know something all the new guy's have to do."

She nodded remembering her first-day jobs. Nothing more than look and writhe down, boring but also interesting. "If you want I can walk you there, I've been here for about seven years."

"If you don't mind." Juan looked into the wall and looked questioning at her. "Does there even exist something like a route map of this Centre?"

She giggled. "Not that I know. So what patient do you have to check?"

"Agent Sands."

She frowned and pierced her eye's into Juan's. "That can't be. He's my patient and I never gave anyone the order to observe him." Her eye's narrowed. "Who gave you that assignment?" Juan's gaze got blank.

"Dr. Something-something, I'm sorry, I can't remember. While I'm thinking about it, I'm not sure anymore if it was Sands." He pointed at the maps on her desk. "Might have said that because of the maps, are there anymore patients beginning with SA?"

She relaxed a bit. "Only Sanderson I can remember. But if you're looking for him you're in the wrong part of the building." She picked up the maps about Sands and placed them in her drawer, locking it. Then she stood up and walked with Juan into the wall. "I'll walk you there, but if you want to get a good start it would be wise if you could remember you're patients names."

Juan nodded silently and followed her throw the walls. While she walked into the elevator she tried to think about possible theories to talk to señor Sands. If she could get him so far he would willingly speak about himself maybe she could help him. And if that worked out she might get a bonus. And that would be very helpful since she was way behind her rent.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Light, darkness, light, darkness, colours. Yeah, he was back again. Dreamytime was over. Sands slowly rubbed his hand over his head. 'Headaches, do they ever stop?' He turned his head a bit to the door, it was all silence on the hallway. 'Must be night, then.' He realised he was cold, where did they hide the bed? And where was his gun? How took it again? And what happened to his head, fucking headaches…

Feeling sick he sat silent in the room with the white walls. He broke his head to remember how he got here. There were CIA agent involved. And there might be some drugs been involved, some heavy shit…

"Idiot…"

He remember right away where he got the headache from. 'Go away.' It always started the same. With one voice, the voice. A shiver run throw his body. Soon there would be more.

"Don't remember, huh, ore don't WANT to remember?"

'Fuck off.'

"Cursing, yes you're good with that. Shel-big-shut, but who is laughing now?"

Sands wasn't sure but he could swear there was a soft but penetrating laugh.

"Can ore can you not remember anything?"

'No, fuck off!'

"Do I have to remind you with some fancy mumbo-jumbo ore can you figure it out yourself? Because I know you know exactly what I mean, savvy Shel?"

'I said, FUCK OFF!'

"I won't, you know that, I know that, the others know that. And it's because you killed her-"

He grabbed his head. "GO AWAY!FUCK OFF!"

"Yes, see you remember. So do you also remember killing her? Murdering her? Hurting her like she was nothing? Was she nothing Shel? Was she nothing to you? Just a thing like all the others?"

His hands slackened slowly and he leanded his head against the cold wall. 'I don't know.' The truth for once, short and painful real. He didn't know. It stung like a hellbitch. He didn't know what to think. His mind couldn't focus, make choices. Things that normaly where so easy to deal with where now so fucking hard. Who was he? The killer from the stories? A weak little shitty kid? Just a sick and twisted machine following orders from a voice? He couldn't choose, lost the balance between it, him, they. 'Lost the control.' He bit his lip. "Lost it."

"And still losing it. Losing, you keep losing. But Shel, it's never about winning ore losing. It's about power about having the biggest toys. With that you urn power and then, after that winning gets in the picture. But at the point you are you're not even enough to lose anything. You're nothing, just a shallow shel."

'No, I'm not.' He rubbed his head. 'At lease, I think…' Where was he again? What did have happened and where was this going to?

"I know where this is going to. You're going to get out ore get killed. You may choose. But wait, where would you go if you came out? To the CIA? Hell, then send you here. To family? WHAT family? You don't have anything left. This place is the best you can get. There is nothing more for you in it. The sky is the limit and you've reached that."

"He's right, Sheldon. What comes around goes around. That's what I told you when you where young. Everything you've done, you're going to pay for it, right here right now. Like you deserve, nasty boy!"

'What comes around, goes around…' He shifted a little and touched the wall to feel where he was. Crumble paint fell on the floor when he slid his palms over it. 'Comes around, goes around. Comes around… goes around.' It felt foggy in his head, everything seemed unclear.

"You killed her."

"Murdered her."

"Shoot-"

"-Them all, Shel. Shoot them all. Only for yourself. Everything you did was always just for yourself. Any kind of opportunity to create chaos, or kill, or trip someone was purely for yourself. Your own benefit, your own kind of very very sick sence of humour."

'Comes around, goes around.' Made pretty much sence. He had to pay for the things he had done. 'Comes around goes around, comes around…'

Been a couple of day's since I updated. But the ending has to be good. Like Mort would say: All what matters is the ending. So that's why it will take some time for me to get there. But don't worry I'm back:D!

Luvzzzz Sue-AnneSparrow