On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 2

Chapter 4

Could it be true? Could Michelle be alive?

Jedediah huddled on his bed at Kevin's house as he studied his mother's bracelet. He played with it, feeling the cool chain links drag across his palm. He put part of it inside his mouth, tasting metallic coldness, features crinkling with pained remembrance. Lying back on the bed, he dangled her gold bracelet above him, tears slipping down onto his neck. He pulled out the necklace from underneath his sweater. They matched. Jed stared at the ceiling not knowing what to do about this information he had, about the man who wanted to take him to her. A man who said he'd come find Jed again. He sighed heavily, that aching sense of loneliness creeping up on him.

He heard a rapping at his closed door and quickly wiped his face, sitting up and ramming the fragile bracelet into his pocket. "Yeah?"

Kevin leaned against the closed door in complete relief. "Hey Jed," he asked softly, "Can I come in?" He had been worried sick ever since the kid had left the Banner. Over Kevin's objections, he left to get something to eat, insisting he would be fine, but never came back. He and Cassie had been beside themselves with fear. Even the Mole said he'd lost sight of him.

"Uh...yeah...it's open."

Kevin walked into the room and had to fire out some questions, "What happened to you? Why'd you take off? You gotta call us-" He stopped, though. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing… just… a little stressed. You know...winter coming on and all that...'cause I really wanted to go back to West V."

"I know… and we're going, I promise." Kevin sat on the bed, patting Jed on his knee. Added, "Jack Neederman contacted Hannah. He wants to interview her and I've convinced him that we need to be there."

"When, though? I'm tired of waiting. You keep promising…" Jed was tempted to tell Kevin about Nemo Torn, but hesitated. What if it was true? Any chance at all of it being true. How could he put Michelle at any risk that Phillip Manning could find her again, kill her...for real this time? Jedediah wondered what Todd would say. He'd be suspicious of the police, Jed figured, of the feds. He might offer a different solution. He might support the idea of going with the stranger. Jed didn't know. Not that Todd was in any sort of frame of mind to have any conversation with anyone. Viki said he was still pretty screwed up.

Kevin looked away guiltily, "I'm sorry. There's a reason we're sort of in limbo here...and...uh.."

"What's going on with Phillip Manning?" Jedediah interrupted. "I mean...do they know where he is? The cops?"

"No. He disappeared when the feds stormed his offices in Chicago." Kevin didn't want to tell Jedediah that most likely Phillip was in Llanview. Stalking Jed. The reason they hadn't gone anywhere, the reason everything was sort of on hold. After the kid's afternoon disappearance today, Kevin didn't think he had much choice anymore. And he knew they were alienating him with their manic over-protectiveness. He was a young, independent man, who wanted to be roaming, exploring Llanview. Maybe even dating. But he couldn't very well do any of these normal things with a lunatic on the loose. He should be warned, Kevin and Cassie decided.

He should know.

Just as Kevin was about to jump headlong into telling, Jed blurted, "I want to see Todd. Ya' think the doctor will let me see him?"

"Of course he will. I'm kind of surprised, though. You've been pretty hostile about him. Why the change?"

Jedediah looked away at a sudden rush of emotion, being too overwhelmed by what was essentially a re-emergence of his mother in his life. So many thoughts running through his head. Kinda felt like he had no home anymore, like he had no people. He stopped it up, though. Said through a tight jaw, "I don't know… I don't KNOW. Just feel like I need to see him again."

Kevin laid a firm hand on the kid's shoulder. "I'm sorry. This all must be crazy hard on you." The kid looked so young at the moment. So much like Todd, and yet not. "We'll get you there, to West V., to Todd. He's gonna come around. He's getting better everyday. In the meantime… there's something you need to know about Phillip Manning. Something very serious."

Tim rubbed the blond mass of curls on his head as he stood at the front desk, going through files. Admitted three new patients just this evening, all being transferred from Statesville. Even though he'd reduced his caseload to tend to Todd… the few still required significant time. The lock-down admittance procedure was so laden with paperwork that often Tim said to whoever would listen that he was a doctor and not some clerical grunt out of law school. Venting. Hours spent working up insurance and government forms were precious time lost for troubled patients.

And Todd was definitely in need of that precious time right now. He opened his medical file.

Skipped dinner and rejected a visit from Téa which meant he was in another downward spiral. The medications were obviously not alleviating the situation which of course is always the great challenge of psychiatry. He was a much a chemist as he was a doctor. Psychiatric drugs vary from patient to patient and it is not unusual for the right combination to take months to be discovered. A constant game of hide and seek. Tim did assign his intern to work up a formal report on the medication Todd was on, as well as do further research on alternative meds, so hopefully he could start a new program as soon as possible. The effects still wouldn't be felt for another couple of days-

Tim's pager went off, but as he poked around his belt to bring it up to look, a security guard sounded out a firm command to someone. The words were said, but not sinking in because his mind was on files and the pager…

"Hey, you can't just leave!"

A quiet voice coming back… "Don't tell me what to do."

Down the hall, buried in hospital noise...a nurse kept talking in an upset manner and then called out, "Dr. Graham...we have a problem..."

Just as Tim focused on the commotion down the hall, he recognized the source of the aggravation: Todd was pushing open a door to the staircase.

He was leaving.

Tim hissed a loud, "Shit!" as he tossed the files down and sprinted past the rooms, down the hallway, waving away the security guard and the nurse. He knew this was coming. God DAMN. Bottom line: if Todd wanted out, there wasn't a thing anyone could do. He was just healthy enough. No clear and present danger. GOD DAMN. Tim skipped steps. His patent had moved fast, already out of the stairwell. Tim hit the lobby floor, head whipping in all directions, landing on a security guard - "Shoeless patient… that way," pointing to the north door. The doctor ran and slammed through the exit. And there, at the far end of the walkway, settling himself down on the curb, was Todd.

"Hey, kiddo, where you going?" Tim rasped, having a hard time masking uncharacteristic panic.

"A walk," Todd mumbled, not turning to the doctor, staring down the street. He was calm, quiet. Unmoved by Tim's urgent tone.

Come and get me, Paulie. Lift me up and out of this fucking hell-hole.

"Come on, let's get back inside. It's damn cold out here." Tim was starting to sweat despite the chill because he saw Todd in "traveling" mode with his jeans, a thick sweater, hair pulled back in a ponytail. Except he had no shoes, socks only. The hospital had kept them away from him for just this reason. He didn't care. He was running and he'd run naked if he had to.

"Go 'way."

"You can't go anywhere. It's too cold. It's not safe for you."

Todd finally turned to the doctor, light eyes full of pain, and in a soft voice said, "Don't tell me what I can or can't do. I wanna fly, doc, just like you said. So that's what I'm doing... flying."

"Not this way. 'Flying' means dealing with your pain, not running away. Facing it head on and absorbing it, learning from it. Getting in with your life. Come on, Todd. Let's go inside. Let's talk."

"I'm okay. Just l-leave me here." Todd returned his morose gaze to the street, keeping watch.

"I can't," Tim said. "I have a responsibility to you, to protect you. To help you. Please don't do this. You don't even have proper shoes, kiddo."

He glanced at his feet, rubbed his head. As if he just noticed the absence. He reached down and wiped the bottoms of his socks. Curled his toes when he set feet back on the asphalt.

"Don't do what, doc?"

"Run. Your ghosts are only going to follow you."

"Oh. Well. I chose the wrong method before. Not making that mistake again." He then stood up, sticking his hands into his pockets, and gently began rocking back and forth on his heels.

"What are you talking about?" Tim moved closer to Todd. Maybe he could get him on the clear and present danger standard… if he made a single threat to himself, Tim could call the police. Force him back inside. Pennsylvania law. "What method?"

"Heaven, hell ... piecing pieces of a puzzle together ... trying to make sense ... makes no sense ... why ... why ... no fucking sense." Todd was shivering now from the cold.

"What makes no sense?" Tim asked, knowing Todd was spitting out fragmented thoughts, as if he was too tired to pull the various concepts together. He knew it was the depression. "Tell me what makes no sense. Let's work through it."

"Nothing makes sense ... not me, not him, not Téa... not anything ... the why ... why ... "

"You mean the abuse?"

"All of it. Abuse ... love ... rape ... sex ... violence ... none of it ... all of it ... I make no sense ... we make no sense ...no answers..."

"Oh Todd… such big questions to answer on the street."

His patient turned to him, eyes wounded… such endless pain there. He wanted answers.

"Okay… let's start with the abuse." Tightening his fists and clenching his jaw, Tim spoke faster, every minute counting because he knew he was running out of time. "You're right. None of it make any sense. You're remembering what happened to you as a child, through a child's eyes. The terrible confusion. The world is upside down. You trusted your father to act as a father should and he betrayed you. Your mother betrayed you, too. Th-the- the 'whys' we may never understand. So it's up to you to accept the absence of explanation and learn from it. Continue to talk about how it affected you. The way you've been doing - and you've made huge leaps - my God, you're healing, Todd. Absorbing this pain ... kiddo, come on... please listen to me."

Todd was running hard and fast from his grief and Tim was truly afraid of where this road was leading to. He had to pull him back in. But he wondered whether his patient was too far gone for anyone to reach. It sometimes happened. Doctors sometimes could not help; they were sometimes imperfect and ineffective.

Shaking his head, Todd stammered, "No ...no ... no ...no ... can't do that … can't absorb this ... I'm all out. No more room ... puzzle ... puzzle ... no answers ... none ..."

A dark-colored older BMW slowed down across the wide boulevard and Todd clearly reacted to it, eyes fast on the car, a caught breath. Tim was losing his composure, his voice straining more than usual, and his pitch rose with fear for a patient he had become too attached to.

"Todd, where are you going? You have to tell me so I can help you. Let me help you!" He couldn't take losing patients, couldn't take losing. But this one… this one had gotten inside of him.

Why, Timothy, why this patient?

Todd turned to Tim, stepping off the curb, standing with his back to the road. The city behind him looked so vast, so easy to get lost in. Tim never knew how big Llanview was. Tonight… it was so… big and dark and dangerous.

"To heaven, Doc. Gonna find me some peace. Some fuckin' peace. My treatment, at my say..."

"How?! How is that person going to give you peace?!" Todd looked both ways, preparing to cross, having to wait for a few cars to pass by. He didn't respond to Tim. A sudden horrible light went off in the doctor's head. "Wait a minute, by 'peace,' do you mean drugs? Is this your pusher? Is this that Smith guy that brought you the meth?"

Clear and present danger… clear… and present...

Todd stopped a moment, a hesitation. Eyes dragged to the doctor. Tim huffed in response, hands on his head, "Holy hell, Todd… are you kidding?! Remember when he brought the speed? Remember how as soon as your run was finished, you were just as broken, just as sick as before? Remember? Remember how much you still hurt? Kiddo, please..."

"No, too fucked-up...don't remember."

"Don't lie to me...or to yourself! The drugs are what brought you here! The psychosis... it was caused by drugs! There is NOTHING YOUR PUSHER CAN GIVE YOU THAT IS GOOD! Nothing!"

Todd turned around now, angry, a burst of unexpected, surprising energy, "You lie! He can help ... he knows what's good for me ... he says-"

"He says what, that you won't become an addict? That you can take it easy...that a few hits is all you need? That you won't overdose if you're smart about it? That your whole life won't be more fucked-up than it is now?!"

"He says hospitals don't know shit and that's true... it's absolutely true..." Todd looked with such emptiness at Tim, such pain, that for a second Tim felt the argument. Felt, yeah, this whole psychiatric industry was shit.

"It's just slow, kiddo, that's all. Please… give me your hand. Come with me." Tim stretched out a thick heavy hand, a hand Todd knew… how warm it always was, how assuring. How deeply deeply safe. Instinctively, almost knee-jerk, Todd slowly moved to take that hand into his… eyes on it, his lips parted in a kind of aware gasp… he could feel it... safe, safe, safe...

And it all ended. Todd's features broke…brows cracked with sadness, a face that killed the doctor, ripped right through him because he could see his patient so wanted to take that hand. But… he yanked his hand back.

"Look at me, Doc... I hurt so fucking bad I can't even get up to piss. I ... I c-c-can't write ... I c-c-can't eat. Can't talk. I can't even hear when people t-t-talk to me… 'cause all there is, is pain. Loud, screaming… pain. The only reason ... I'm out here and not holed up in that stupid room, the only reason I'm even talking ... is because of the hope that something is out there that can take all this away. For a single moment, I want to not feel."

Todd's voice had thinned, had lost the little strength he had. He swallowed, watched a few cars speed by, squinting at the cold rush of air that hit him. He covered his face, hands up, such a symbol of hopelessness. "I don't want to remember this shit anymore," he wept, "... I don't want to feel it. I hid what my father did for so long and now ... it's back and...and… every day, more and more and more..." Fierce fiery eyes focused now right at the doctor, fists now up, "I don't want it ... I DON'T WANT IT!" Then, the energy disappeared again… only a whisper now.

"Doc… I don't want it."

"I know that ... God ... but you gotta believe that it's just a phase of your recovery and not a permanent situation. Give me more time ... please ... please ... we'll work together on your medications...we'll both look at what's offered ... together ... everyday we can examine how it's affecting you ... you can even do the research yourself." The doctor looked desperately at Todd who had become the judge and jury to Tim's lawyering, a fight for his patient's life. But the sad truth was… the doctor was losing and he knew it.

"I gave you time."

The car chugged across the street, the old engine noisy and anxious, exhaust plumes twisting up into the streetlights. No plates, far enough away so nobody could ever identify it, the man in it only a shadow behind a window. Todd started toward it, the street empty now. As a last-ditch effort, Tim grabbed his arm roughly, breaking all his own rules about touching patients aggressively.

Todd looked back at his doctor, a flash of hurt on his face, no doubt at the hard touch. Eyes on Tim's hand then up. But Tim didn't release him, pleading now, "Don't go. Whoever that is, can't help you. What he's offering is gonna bring all your hard work to a crashing halt. Please, please, please listen to me. He's only going to hurt you."

Todd chuckled, "Oh my God… nobody can hurt me anymore, Doctor Graham. I couldn't be anymore destroyed that I am right now. And when you hit the bottom, there's only one way to go: up. Right? There's no more falling to do." He pulled his arm out of Tim's grasp and added, "At least it feels that way. To me." He walked slowly across the street, his head down, one hand shoved back into his pocket again, the other rubbing the spot where Tim had grabbed him. He hobbled a little, his psychic pain turned physical. Phantom pain from the rape…

"Todd! Don't do this..." Tim's voice trailed off and he knew he lost his patient. Todd made his way around the front of the car. He looked up at Tim for a moment before opening the car door, the expression unreadable. An apology maybe, a look of resignation. The two held each other's gaze just a second or two longer. Then...he slipped inside the car and it took off, red tail lights looking like the devil's eyes, exhaust like smoke from the fires of Hell.

He called the police… reported it. Sounded drained. He heard it. "Todd Manning… age 31… six foot one, 160, 170 lbs, blue jeans, dark knit sweater, brown hair in a ponytail… no shoes… scars on his lower arms, scar on his right side cheek… yes, you know him… this is his doctor, Timothy Graham. He has left the psychiatric wing of Llanview General without proper…" He paused, closed his eyes, shook his head…Spat,"...paperwork. Yes, sir, yes, he's a clear and present danger to himself… suicide by..." Useless. He knew where the report would go. Low… low… low. "Suicide by neglect, threat of illegal drugs...no shoes..."

Useless.

Tim stood on the street, the chill cutting through this his bones, and he groaned, "Oh God. God damn it."

The Mole looked over at his passenger who had immediately sunk in low in the seat next to him. Found himself a bit shocked at the sight. Thin. Empty. No life inside of him. And he realized in an instant that he was the derelict Jedediah Chant had picked up on his motorcycle that one night, the "T'warent no derelict" that Phillip Manning had lost his shit over. Holy fuck. He'd only ever seen Todd in suits and the one time in pajamas at the hospital. He had a whole other thing going on now. More mind-boggling was the fact that slam-dunk, no question... Todd, Phillip, and the kid, Jedediah, were all connected.

"Well… well … hey there, Manning. Bet you're glad to have crawled out that goddamned rat trap. Who was the curly top chattin' you up? Didn't look too happy."

Todd didn't say anything, his eyes stuck on the outside, stuck on a world he was not a part of. He watched the city blocks whip past in the darkness, wondering who was inside the buildings. Whether they were alive or dead in those places. He rubbed his socked foot on the rubber mats on the floorboards. Gripped the side of the passenger seat.

"We're headed to the China Moon Motel. Got a room there...we can do our business in private and away from prying eyes. It's way on the edge of town."

Business in private… so nobody will see. I won't tell anyone what we do in that room. I can do so many things to you… and you can do them to me. I can do it all. I know how to do it all.

Todd ran a finger across the window, condensation making it wet. Rubbed his feet on the rubber mats. Over and over. Cold wet on the window. Resisted putting his tongue there. Taste the cold wet. Funny thing, taking control of his own treatment. Didn't feel like it. Glanced at scrub-headed Paulie Smith, humming as he drove… what a phony name that was. He was trapped in this car… handing his life over, yeah? No, no. I am the decider. I make the final call. I say what goes in. He was grabbing a moment for himself, for his damaged memory-soaked brain.

Take away this pain, man. Just do your magic and take it away.

He remembered the first time he met Paulie. The circumstances. Ever since returning from Ireland, Todd had been struggling with horrific nightmares; vivid, gruesome ones. Everything short of the sexual abuse. But he had been managing them. Sort of. Up until he proposed to Téa. He had thought his life was changing at that time, getting on track. She had said 'yes.' She had actually agreed after all they had been through and it had been so... sweet.

Then disaster struck. He found Georgie's body. Sent him careening into his past at a dizzying speed. The rape came to life in full color, in HD-3D, man! He started dreading sleep, be in pure terror of it, choosing to walk the docks to avoid dropping off at home. Alienated Téa with those disappearances, their love collapsing. He couldn't explain. Couldn't… talk. Sleep was the enemy. He drank loads of coffee then graduated to caffeine pills. Nothing worked. Found himself giving in to the exhaustion only to face Peter and the truth again. Over and over and over.

On one of those miserable nights at the docks, Todd had plopped himself on the ground, boots dangling above the water, and groaned a little too loudly, "No… no… I don't wanna sleep...God… please just a few more hours, just give me a few more hours." Thought he was talking to empty space and deep water. It was a moment of revelation, a sputtering out of the ugliness inside of him. As soon as those words were out, a military-looking gruff man had flopped on the ground next to him, shocking Todd, "...the hell?!"

"I am the answer to your prayers, my man. Name's Paulie Smith."

"Jesus...get the hell outta here...I don't pray. And if I did, I sure as fuck wouldn't be asking for you."

The guy had laughed, "Well, I ain't Jesus, but I think I have what you need."

"You don't know what I need."

"You don't wanna sleep and I got some shit to help you with that. Just..." The man stopped a moment, studied his potential client, eyeing him up and down, and then said, "For you, just twenty five bucks for a little bag of… wakefulness."

Todd had felt the sleep coming on, his body screaming at him to lie down. He had heard those voices from his past, knocking at him, clawing at him. He wanted control. Wanted to stay awake and rule the nighttime monsters. He battled back and forth with himself, worried about getting caught. Worried about dying. He didn't know what this stuff was that he was buying. For all he knew, it was cleanser. Comet. But Todd was sick with fear and denial so he took a leap into the dark with Paulie Smith, local low-level drug-dealer.

After some cheesy business negotiations, after some reconsideration, Todd had taken the package. Methamphetamine. Crank. Went home, mixed the powder up with some orange juice and swallowed it down. And whoa! He hit pay-dirt. He would be awake for days on end, running the newspaper to its maximum potential, pounding after Bo Buchanan for the murder of Georgie. Nightmare-free, sleep-free. Memory-free. He was on a fucking rampage and it was be-yoo-tiful.

He and Paulie developed a real routine. Todd would call him. He'd show up at their appointed spot on the docks, money and drugs would pass. Todd was happy and awake. Well..."happy" wasn't exactly the word. Téa sort of got in the way of his joyful tear. She had touched him, made him feel human. He had had moments of connection with her making him want to lie with her, to show her how much he loved her. To sleep with her. But in the end, she slipped away from him. Their engagement disintegrated beneath the weight of Georgie's body, of Peter's tortures...

...and the hostage scheme in the cabin, a crank-fueled Manning production.

Once he was out of jail, though, he got into the meth again, learned about Michelle, and finally binged until he cracked up. Entirely. In that shower. With that knife. Surrounded by voices and hallucinations, drowning in guilt and heartsickness. Days of self-injury and psychosis had preceded the ultimate answer for him: kill the beast, kill Satan, he who resides within.

Pulling himself out his warped nostalgia, Todd looked over at Paulie again, light eyes full of misery and sickness, "You gonna help me?"

"Yeah, man, better than you ever known."

Paulie grinned, teeth glinting in the moon's light, eyes shimmering with the passing street lamps.

The Mole opened the door to the motel room, Todd glimpsing the worn furniture, the chipped mirror. The gold drapes. Musty. Ironically, it sort of reminded him of the Manning household decor and he shuddered. The motel was definitely on the outskirts of Llanview, definitely far away from prying eyes. The only shit out here was a mix of run-down homes and old farms and abandoned industrial complexes.

"No one's gonna bug us," Paulie said softly. "Sit down, go ahead."

Todd sat on the bed, shivering in the cold. His feet were cold. He watched Paulie, watched the person about to save his life, about to rescue him from the land called "grief" that was supposedly good for him. And how was he going to do this? Todd realized he couldn't remember what Paulie was going to give him. What was that wonderful drug that was better than the garbage at the hospital?

Oh yeah. The Princess of Peace. Heroin.

I'm yours, Your Majesty. You're my last resort, my last stop.

Paulie went to the darkened kitchenette and grabbed some paper towels off a roll, trying not to look at Todd's desolate stare. He didn't know why it bothered him so much, that emptiness. He wondered if he was seeing a little of Brandy in those eyes. Who'd a'thought the massively rich newspaper mogul was nothing but a trashed whore? And where the fuck were his shoes?

He shook away the thoughts and re-focused on business. Throwing away the first three sheets or so, superstition doncha know, he laid the remaining ones on the beat-up dining table, a relic really. He had a small leather bag with him which he unpacked, taking out some instruments and laying them on the paper methodically. First, a packaged syringe, then a small glass bottle of sterile water, a cotton ball to use as a filter, followed by a cap for mixing the junk up in, and...

"There she is…," Paulie murmured as he pulled out the crowning item of the night, a small crisp-papered package filled with white powder.

It took some time for Todd to process what he was looking at. The set-up. "You're gonna inject me?"

God, his voice. Nothing like before. Dude had FIRE before. He was a real bastard. Someone to admire. And now… Paulie turned, eyed Todd a moment. "You're in a bad way, man. You need to feel this shit raw. You gotta get it to the heart of you. Mainlining's the way. Anything else is gonna be short." He waited. "You still in?"

A shrug. A bare lift of his shoulder. Not even the energy for a word. Then a nod.

"Ok. Let's get this show on the road." While smoothly tapping dope into the cap, he spoke to Todd, instructing him on what to do. "Take off your sweater and tee-shirt. Tighten and un-tighten your fist. You need to pop a good vein. We'll take a traditional route and hit your arm."

Todd hesitated, not wanting to undress, not wanting to be that exposed. His cuts. His scars. Someone might hurt him. I won't tell anyone what we do in this room. Waves of panic rolled through him and all he could hear was his own noisy breaths. He grasped the bedspread… rubbed his feet on the floor. Pain fired up inside of him, real physical pain up through his ass into his belly. Searing hot pain. He hunched over. Groaned silently.

I am the decider. I am. I have the final say. I can do it all. I have always known how to do it all.

Paulie looked over at the frozen customer on the bed, hunched, panting like a goddamn dog. The fuck, man? What happened to him? What happened to Todd fucking MANNING?

"Man… WHAT... you changed your mind? You better fuckin' tell me before I mix this shit up. I mean, you can snort it, even eat it, but I'm telling you, you want the hard hit. I can see that. You… are not okay."

"It's cold in here," Todd said weakly. "Don't wanna take anything off."

"You'll get over that… believe me. So… you in or what?"

"The pain will go away?"

"Yeah, man… heroin is the mama and the papa of pain relief. Dope IS pain relief."

After a moment or two, the pain subsiding somewhat...Todd licked his lips, dragged weighted eyes to the dealer. He had to do this. The drug would go in and he'd be better. No more pain. No more pain in his head, in his body… he'd have his feet in the ground. He'd be in control again because he's the one with the final say. The only one. He straightened on the bed a little… and then said, almost too low to hear, "Okay."

So he did as he was told, removing his sweater and then his tee-shirt. I won't tell anyone what we do in this room. He held a hand across his chest, fingers folded against his skin. The clothes lay crumpled next to him. He then examined his arm, those cuts, the scars. His few tattoos from prison. One arm still in the removable sleeve. Téa's face kept flashing before him, Starr's. Jed's. He started to panic again, his memories again pecking at him because he felt powerless, felt at the mercy of Paulie. His life was in the hands of a scum-bag, a small-time drug-dealer. All at once a flood of worries washed over him: that he could get caught by the cops and end up in jail; that he could overdose; that he could get a disease like AIDS or Hepatitis-C. He was about to say something, grabbing his sweater into his lap.

Heard a whispering in his ear.

These are the risks of salvation. It's this or more Peter Manning come to life. Every night, every day, he will be waiting for you, presenting to you on a silver platter… every violation… every wound… all of them laid out in glorious color and… and he will be behind you, firing them right up inside of you. Raping you with the memories. That what you want… Thomas Todd Manning?

Right. This was his decision. He was in control of his own body. Who touches it. Who looks at it. What goes into it. He wins. He does. He didn't want to suffer anymore. Didn't want to go through the emotions anymore. And nobody seemed to understand. Talk it out, they said. Share your feelings, feel your feelings. Write it out. Paint it out. Fucking bleed it out. It all just hurt so much.

Let me be dead, let me be happy. Take away this pain. At my say.

The next moment, Paulie sat on the bed. He reached for Todd's arm and Todd jumped hard, jerking away. No touching, no touching... he was breathless with fear.

Paulie froze. "Oh jesus CHRIST... look, I can take you back. You're obviously-"

"No, no... I-I-I gotta thing about people touching me…"

"Well… unless you know how-"

"I'm sorry," Todd whispered. "Just do it." He put his arm out. Palm up. Laid his arm into Paulie's waiting hands. The cuts were ugly. Raw and red. His heart was still racing.

"Just relax…" Paulie swallowed, beyond words. He carefully took the arm onto his lap and wrapped a piece of latex around Todd's bicep, tightening it into a loop and snapping it against his skin. Todd jumped. The dealer smiled shortly, apologized, and tapped at a vein in the crook of his arm.

"Okay, yeah. This is good. We got a good one here. See? But remember, it's not a good idea to just hit here... you should move around. You can do your other arm, your legs, feet. In between your toes, the jugular. Hell, even your dick. Gotta switch it up 'cause over time, if you bang often enough in the same places, you'll lose those veins… it'll get harder and harder to find a good line in. Just a fact."

Todd looked down, disconnecting fast. This was happening to someone else. This was some other idiot junky getting a lesson on how to inject himself safely. He was beginning to drift. Beginning to lose connection. He was trembling.

Dare to say, "no". Say "no". Take Tim's hand. Go back inside with him. It's so cold.

No, he wouldn't say no. He wanted to get to Heaven, he wanted peacefulness. Just tonight. He'd go back to the doc and try again later. So nothing came out of his mouth, no objection, no last-minute reprieve. No pardon. He heard Paulie say, "Now you might get sick, throw up, but you won't care. You're gonna be feeling so fucking good, even puking'll be a dream."

Todd swallowed hard and looked into Paulie's face as he felt a pinch. He looked down at the syringe and saw a little blossom of blood at the entrance of the barrel. The shaking of his body had intensified with each passing second. He didn't really want this, maybe, but nothing was stopping the hurt, it just kept coming. Loud and aching and ugly. Pain stabbed at his insides. He grunted… said, "I don't feel anything. Pain is still here..."

"It's not in yet. When you see the blood, it means you hit a vein which is good, but don't push it all the way in yet. You should always take a taste of what you've got just to be sure the shit is good and ain't cut with crap. I'm gonna push it just a bit..."

Todd watched the plunger go down just a little, biting down on his teeth. He looked at Paulie, looked around the room. The needle deep into his vein. He grabbed the bedspread with his other hand. Rubbed his foot on the carpet.

"If you start to feel like you can't breathe, or feel really sick, you pull the spike out. Got that? It isn't supposed to feel bad. So, you gotta tell me if something ain't right. I don't want you dying on me from rat poison."

Todd stopped breathing, looking up suddenly.

"That's not gonna happen, Manning. Just tell me if you feel bad." While talking, since the start, Paulie had noticed the cuts on Todd's forearm. They were bad. Shit, he said to himself, glancing at Todd's other arm, seeing a wrap. Had to be even worse than the exposed arm. The man had meant business by doing that. Papers weren't wrong. He had meant to kill himself. Damn straight. Had to admire a dude willing to do that to himself. Takes some kinda balls... or madness.

"Ok, so far, so good. No bad feelings?"

Todd shook his head, no, eyelids dipping a little, feeling a gentle warmness running through him. He breathed, sighed...

"Now… as soon as it's good, push it in fast… don't want the blood coagulating… might blow a vein if you force it." He glanced up, "All right then… welcome to Heaven, Mr. Manning."

Todd watched Paulie untie the piece of latex, watched it fall to the bed as if watching a slow-motion film. He saw the plunger go down slowly. The room took on static, white noise. The dustiness, the darkness, all blended, the foreground melting into the background. He heard the last cries of Peter in his head, the last "flip-flop" of his mother's abandoning steps, Téa's last tears., Starr's tears… Jedediah's look of disappointment. Heard the last of his own constant internal scream intermingled with those of his victims.

Suddenly, it happened.

Oh God.

A blinding, deafening, white blast of silence shot through him. A complete and utter shut-down of all the noises he heard, of all the voices. A nuclear, atomic bomb, a massive explosion of quiet, so fast, so hot, he felt like he was dying. Like he was coming harder than he ever had in his life. Like he was on the biggest roller coaster ever, a stretched-out drop with no end, no beginning, all in his head. He moaned at the sensation, at the powerful rush...

Paulie had pulled the needle out and pressed down on the leaking vein with a cotton ball. Studied the reaction of Todd, his head forward like a puppet. Listened to him enjoy that brand-new orgasmic high.

"You got it," the dealer murmured. "Fuck, yeah."

Todd lifted his head, his eyes rolling back, falling backwards onto the bed, his muscles tightening as he rubbed his foot against the mattress. His body arched with obvious pleasure. It was... powerful. He moaned softly again and touched his face, his mouth, pressing his lips beneath his fingers. Pushed them in…

Fucking hell...fucking hell... I am free. I am flying. I am the Red Baron...

Paulie watched his client find a piece of Heaven and even envied where he was for a moment. He knew that glorious sensation, but also knew its drawbacks. Knew the trap of heroin addiction. Understood that over the next couple of weeks, Todd would want more than just a part of one bag. In a couple months, he might need several a day just to feel normal. Just to get out of bed. He might become a slave to "H" as opposed to his real life. He might die. That was the problem with heroin. Death. If you couldn't maintain, that is.

But Paulie was only the Priest marrying his client to the Princess. He didn't dare touch the stuff himself anymore lest his business fall to the wayside. He sat on the bed next to Todd and touched his head, caressing his long hair. For some reason, seeing a person in this state…man, it turned him on. Maybe it was the power, the profound vulnerability …knowing he was the one responsible for this ultimate come. Maybe he wanted to touch him because he knew his client was freaked out about being touched and here he was… so… touchable.

"That's better, huh, guy? Nothin' hurts, eh? Told you this was gonna help you."

Todd then made a strange expression and Paulie quickly grabbed him by the arm, dragging him off the bed, sort of throwing him into the bathroom where he fell. Just as he landed on hands, legs out, twisting on his side, his whole body stiffened and he threw-up hard onto the floor, his muscles straining through violent spasms.

Todd had a vague sensation that his whole life had come pouring out of him, firing onto the speckled tiles. Except as he did it, he didn't care. In fact, it was just like Paulie said, it felt kind of good. Getting rid of the shit in his system, in his head. The mind rot. When the spasms finally stopped, he carelessly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, turned around and curled up on the floor. Next to the vomit. He just didn't care.

Hearing Todd's heaving stop, Paulie headed to the bathroom. Shook his head as he looked at the bile-infused mess. He rolled his eyes, wishing he had better directed Todd to the tub or something, though truth was, there wasn't much. Poor guy obviously hadn't been eating. He then got down and pulled Manning up, half-carrying, half-dragging him to the bed, where he carefully set him on the mattress. Felt the fragile nature of the man. He wasn't the same anymore.

After making sure Todd was on his left side just in case he puked again, Paulie went about re-packing his works back into their little bag. As he did so, he saw that Todd was fully engulfed in that second celestial phase of slamming heroin commonly known as "nodding". Slack jaw, glassy eyes barely open, and body in a state of complete relaxation. No question… Manning had seriously checked out.

Beautiful fuckin' shit.

An incredible, slow, breathtaking wave ran through Todd, starting in the middle of his brain and rolling downwards. A high unlike anything he'd ever felt. No meth binge, no alcoholic buzz, nothing…nothing was like this. No fuck was like this. No food, no hug, no kiss. Nothing. It was warm and blissful, making him think he was in his mother's arms again. Rocked and sung to. Peace and silence. It was Godly. The spirit times a hundred, a thousand. Todd turned to his savior, barely able to open his eyes. Grabbed Paulie's arm and held it.

"I been waiting," he murmured, breathing the words. "I thought you were there. It's been so hard… I love you."

Paulie didn't know who Todd saw and didn't care as long as he was happy. He smirked, "I love you, too, man…" He bent down and ran a hand across his chest and belly. Touching the untouchable. Tweaked his nipple. Groped his crotch, feeling his dick through his jeans… "Whoa… bet the ladies love YOU." Did it just 'cause he could. Crazy that Manning didn't fight that. 'Course he didn't. He was high as a fuckin' kite. As high as a man can get before passing out. The Mole laughed, got up, and eased his arm out of Manning's hold.

"Good thing I ain't a fag because…fuck…you are easy."

He laughed some more…in truth, really glad his friend found some peace. He didn't think he'd ever seen such sadness in one person in his whole fucking life as he did tonight.

"You got some big-ass demons in you. Glad they're quiet, man."

Todd wasn't sure where he was anymore. He was dreaming one moment and then not. In and out of the most wonderful sleep he'd ever had, seeing momentary glimpses of his life as it should have been. Like what he wanted as a child. Heard conversations that never happened. Saw parents he never had. A little boy's dreams. He felt God's love all around him. Blanketed in utter and complete rapture. Time just rippled past, water in a brook.

"It's all right, Todd. You are my son. I will never turn my back on you. Ever. No matter what happens, I love you. I will never hurt you."

Todd saw Paulie cleaning up something in the bathroom. Watched his careful movements; stepping over the tiles. The water was running.

"Yes, honey, I know all about your wonderful accomplishments today! Stop jumping! You're so silly! I love you. Now, go get ready for Daddy, we're going to his office - he said he forgot something. We'll make it a family trip!"

He saw the bathroom door swing back against the wall and heard a phone ringing.

"Todd, my whole office is buzzing about your football game last weekend - you know I love to talk about it. They tease me there that no other dad is as proud of their son as me. Well, I can't help it."

Paulie was standing next to the bed, talking on the phone. Serious expression on his face, looking down at Todd. Todd knew him but didn't. He was all people in one. He was the bringer of peace, the bringer of quiet, the reliever of pain. Todd wanted to hold him, love him. Didn't matter what or who he was. Nothing mattered. God is all things. The spirit is God. She is all things good and wonderful. He held the bringer's wrist. Pulled at it to get him closer.

"Sweetheart, I decided I couldn't stay away. I could never leave you. Besides, your father and me love each other. We may get angry sometimes, but we would never break up the family. We would always do what we could to be together. I love you."

The wrist disappeared from his grip. Todd couldn't seem to open his eyes enough to see Paulie anymore. It was alright. He didn't care. This is what he wanted. Anesthesia. Chemical bliss.

I love you. Love. Oh my God. God.

Todd touched the pillow in front of him, sort of sleeping, sort of dreaming, sort of awake. Snippets of his fantasy life kept playing out in front of him. Aging, advancing. He heard his victims talking to him. Happy to see him because he had never hurt them. He'd never violated them. He knew it wasn't real, but he felt like he had their forgiveness. And he felt an overwhelming urge to forgive everyone for anything they ever did to him. Or maybe it was that in heaven, that shit just didn't matter anymore.

At the end of the string of dreams, he saw Téa. Felt her kisses, her love. How could he have missed all of that? How could he have not felt what she was offering? The first thing he was going to do was call her, get her to come to him. He would love her endlessly, make her feel good. As good as he felt. Touch her, make love, talk, if that's what she wanted. This was one dream he could make happen.

And if she no longer wanted him?

Well, so be it. He had heroin now. The Princess of Peace, the Savior of the Downtrodden, the Great Healer. All was good, all was quiet...

All was... fucking... fantastic.

To be continued….