On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 2
Chapter 18
The inside of Dorian's house was disturbing to look at. The damage wasn't severe but the desperation hurt. Shattered glass in the living room announced a break-in, the open French door announced intrusion. In the library, books were toppled onto the floor and lay flat on the shelving like fallen dominos; delicate wooden boxes were flung open, exposed and vulnerable; a few breakables ... were broken. The sickness in the hallway screamed addiction. Blair could barely face Dorian or the two officers alongside Bo Buchanan as they sifted through the evidence because there were no doubts as to who was responsible for the chaos. And she felt equally responsible.
"What did I tell you?! You and Starr should go away until that monster is caught!"
Dorian's shrill voice cut right through the tension and Blair glanced at Viki who stood talking quietly with Bo. Dorian proceeded to follow one of the policemen around the room, commenting on each item, trying to recall whether anything was stolen or not.
When Bo raised his eyes to Blair, she quickly looked away. Had she given him the pouch of heroin when she had the chance, perhaps the LPD would have made a more concerted effort to bring Todd into custody. Right now, however, they were sitting on their hands. Téa had called in the afternoon telling Blair her suspicions that the LPD didn't care about bringing in a mental case, that they only cared about chasing down "real" criminals such as thieves, murderers and drug dealers ... that Todd had fallen through the cracks of an overworked system. Despite his notoriety. Or maybe it was that they just didn't give a damn about Todd in particular. Blair snorted at her new-found alliance with Téa, a match made in heaven.
Shaking her head, Blair knew the pouch of heroin was gone and assumed her little cash collection was gone, too. She didn't even have to check the back shelf of the desk – the chair had been pushed way out making it obvious that he'd been underneath the desk, taking the items. The money was a stash, an old habit covered up with a silly note to make it look normal. Mad money, a holdover from Blair's childhood. Growing up poor meant you hoarded money at every opportunity no matter how much was in the bank. Back to the drugs: at the time, she simply couldn't turn over the evidence against Todd. She couldn't. Even now, she wouldn't tell Bo about the heroin because, of course, that would mean admitting to her own possession of an illegal substance. And look where trying to save Todd in that particular way got Jedediah: kiddie jail. Starr could not be without both parents. Telling Bo was out of the question.
Sitting at the large desk despite the complaint of a police officer who was still taking fingerprints, Blair glared at one of the cops – they all knew who it was who'd been here. Why go through so much formality? It was so ... obvious. Todd might as well have signed a personal note or spray painted his name across the ceiling. His vomit, she supposed, was signature enough.
Viki finished up with Bo and came to Blair. "How are you?" she said in her traditional maternal voice.
"I don't know," Blair snipped. "What difference does it make at this point? My feelings, my opinions, don't amount to beans in comparison to what's happening with Todd. He's out of his mind to come here ... to ... break in. He threw up in the hallway! I don't even know what to say."
Viki looked about, trying to block out Dorian's continued ranting over a broken statuette and noticing that it was an angel shattered on the wood floor. She couldn't take her eyes off its porcelain face with its eternally open eyes staring upwards.
Blair's voice intruded in on Viki's observation, "I'm thinking I'm going to take Dorian's advice and leave with Starr in the morning. I don't want her to hear about him being arrested or ... worse." Blair turned away, tired. Earlier when she, Starr and Dorian returned from dinner, she'd covered Starr's eyes instinctively at seeing the broken glass in the living room, like it was pornographic, like it was splattered blood as opposed to a smashed window. "Call the police," she'd sputtered to Dorian. Starr kept asking, "What is it, Mommy? What is it?"
Nothing, it's nothing.
Viki touched Blair's shoulder briefly, "I'm tired, too, Blair."
"You know, I have these fantasies of getting the phone call - Bo's voice or ... yours ... or Sam's, even Téa's voice - telling me he's dead. I imagine the circumstances, I hear the descriptions in my head ... like it's real. Then I wonder how to tell Starr." She smiled sardonically, "I have long speeches planned. I know the books I'll buy for her, the stories that'll explain what happened to her Daddy. And I think of ways to spend her trust money." She laughed then put her head down a second, "Goddamn him. How is it he doesn't care enough about Starr to turn himself in and get BETTER?"
She smiled sadly, "I'm out of answers."
Bo cleared his throat, announcing his presence to Blair and Viki, both women turning to him. "We got a confirmation on the prints on the door and they're Todd's."
"Like that's some damn surprise?" Blair shot back.
"No, it isn't but … what was he looking for, Blair? Nothing has been taken according to Dorian, reluctantly she's admitting that."
Blair shrugged. "Nothing. I don't think he was looking for anything. My guess is he was just trying to piss off Dorian. A replay of the other night by puking in the hallway. She said she saw him at the bank and pretended not to know him." Fuming at Dorian, she added bitterly, "The security guards threw him out. They humiliated him, probably for Aunt Dorian's amusement."
Viki closed her eyes momentarily. She hadn't heard this part of the story; hadn't heard this degradation. Bo pushed, "Blair you need to be straight with me. Did he take anything?"
"I already told you he didn't! He's messing with us, Bo! He's angry and hurt and ... and he's being TODD! He knew we weren't home. He wouldn't-" She ran out of steam. "Just do what you have to do and get the hell out."
"What about cash?" Bo asked. "Did you keep any of it lying around?"
"Bo! He didn't take anything! What do I have to do to get you to understand that?!"
He put his hand up, trying to quiet her. "All right, fine, fine. If you think of anything, just call me." He turned and began to walk away, hearing Blair behind him.
"I'll be sure to do that, since you all have been so helpful up to now."
Viki lightly put her hand on Bo's arm, asking calmly. "What are you going to do?"
"If we find him, he's going to psych. This? Isn't going anywhere. If he actually took something that might change things but at this point, he's still relatively harmless."
"Harmless to whom?" Viki asked, not letting Bo get out of his comment.
"To the public, Viki."
Blair studied her nails and then gave Bo an indignant expression, "Are you done?"
Bo nodded, "We're done. Like I said, if you remember anything, it might ... hasten Manning being picked up." He paused then said, "I'll tell you, the warrant at this point is relatively low priority."
Dorian shrieked from across the room, causing Viki to startle before she had time to react, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN LOW PRIORITY?! The man broke into our HOUSE!"
Bo turned around, "Dorian, we have warrants right now for a couple of drive-by shooters in Angel Square, a rapist on the docks, suspects on several burglaries and a couple of violent muggings. You think his breaking and entering into what is essentially or technically his own house is going to be more important?"
"You have GOT to be kidding?! This isn't a little ol' breaking and entering! This is TODD MANNING! He's a killer! A rapist! Maybe he's the one on the docks! What more do you want?!"
"He's not wanted on murder or rape, and no, he's not a suspect in the docks situation because he's been ruled out by DNA evidence. I'm sorry. Our department has a lot better things to do with its time than worry about one pathetic drug addict."
Viki and Blair at the same time, parroted, "A pathetic drug addict?"
Viki snapped, "What are you waiting for? For him to die?"
Bo looked away, said a plain truth. "No, we're waiting for him to hurt someone."
"Listen to me," Viki said sharply, "Bring him in. Give him priority. Arrest him before he gets violent. You of all people know damn well what he's capable of when he gets desperate. And this…" She waved her hand, showing the mess in the room. "This is desperation."
"We're doing everything we can."
"No, you're not," Viki responded. "Bo, he's my brother, missing now for nearly a month. I, at one time, was married to YOUR brother. If you care anything for me, for Jessica, for our history, you'll find him and bring him in."
The cops had pretty much ended their work, doing their best to not pay attention to Viki's chastisement. She was right, though, the warrants for psych pick-ups, for missing persons, for "victimless crimes" were given low priority until more serious crimes were actually committed. In the meantime, they prayed the bodies would show up at the morgue. Less paperwork in the long run, less court time. Less money spent on wastes of space.
After the police left, after the broken back door was boarded up, after Blair sped away to Kelly's place to collect her daughter, after Dorian closed her front door and triple locked it, Viki stood outside in the darkness alone, thinking of Jedediah locked away while Todd was out there in Llanview, alone and abandoned to fate. People were waiting for him to finally do himself in or cause some real damage. But she was sure the only damage he would cause would ultimately be upon himself. He would never commit the kinds of crimes the LPD was waiting for – he would die first. Right?
Like she had told Blair, she was out of answers.
"Priorities," she whispered to no one. She picked up a handful of snow and watched it melt in her hand, watched it drip back onto the ground. Lost precious snowflakes, crushed and dissolved, disappearing into an expanse of ice. Forever changed, forever gone. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Téa. She should know that things were getting a bit ... problematic.
Surrounded by filth with which he felt a strange kinship, Todd was deep in a heroin high, huddled on the floor of a dimly lit public park bathroom, in a back stall. The dreams were blissful, the quiet hum throughout his body, miraculous.
Suddenly, he felt himself being jerked to his feet. Couldn't tell if he was doing it himself, or if it was someone else…
He heard a man's sharp laugh, but he couldn't make out the face. The features were shadowed, blurred ... nothing but a blank face and a cap. He saw sparkling stud earrings, three or four on the left hand side. Or maybe they were stars. Stars in a black, dead sky. Todd muttered a question which went unanswered. He was pulled along the dirty floor, the dreams falling down all around him, clouds of liquid snow and candy, until they were outside. He stumbled, knowing the ground for sure was going to come up to his face, but the dizzying fall quit and he felt the tight grip of strong hands on him pushing him hard against the concrete wall, hands that stayed on him. If they let him go, he'd fall. Blindly, Todd reached and grabbed onto cloth…shoulders maybe. In that stuck position, the dreams snuck back…he knew his head was drooping forward and he was hanging there, stuck on the wall. Like a coat on a hook.
The stranger stood in front of Todd, the face lit by a winter moon, by winter stars, by the grimy light still on in the bathroom. Tilting his head like a dog, the voice asked, "Problems, man?"
The soft black he was sliding along in parted, letting in sound, the talker's features still blurred.
Problems.
He heard that. Held onto cloth tightly, hanging on.
"No problems ... I'm cool, very cool," Todd said softly. Trying to see, still. The figure wore black and it was hard to tell where the various clothes changed ... where the layers stopped and others began. He smelled of leather, of sweet cologne. Todd had a tough time keeping his eyes focused. He wanted to sleep. His head kept falling forward, out of his control.
"You know, you could have died in there," the voice purred. "I mean it. Gonna be fuckin' cold tonight. You hungry? You look like you been on the streets a while. You want food? Coffee? What do you need?"
Todd shook his head, trying to focus – the heroin affected his vision a whole lot when he was this out of it. He needed more light, needed to get back to Brandy's place. He'd eat there, yeah. He smiled at the thought of her, her voice, her sad, sad face. Pushed away her rabbit eyes asking why he was treating her the way he did. Pushed away the taste of her finger in his mouth… he could have kept biting. Bite her finger off. Imagined easily the feel of her hair in his hands, her mouth on his, her tongue on all parts of him. Thought of getting inside of her. Just like the whores they were. Pushed away the hate she made him feel, the sound of her when he slammed into her.
Shhhh…
He leaned back on the outside wall, drifting in his high, sleep so close. He gripped the wool in his fingers, slipping in the muddy high. The figure talked but Todd didn't understand a thing 'cause he was too busy slip-sliding, floating …flying … imagining Brandy in front of him. Offering up corrupted comfort.
He'd spent a long while in that park bathroom, stoned, half-sleeping, half-not; heard people come in and out. Heard things going on that one wouldn't normally associate with a bathroom. At least not in the regular world, at least not in the above-the-surface world. He said nothing to the scumbags coming into the dirty latrine and they ignored him, too. Todd made no effort at concealing himself; he knew anyone who walked in could see him because the stall door had somehow opened. If a cop had walked in, he'd be sent to jail so fast it wasn't even funny. But there had been no cop; and the bathroom visitors all kept quiet because street people doing nefarious things in public places maintained a basic understanding of one another, had their own language.
Shhhh…
You keep my secrets and I'll keep yours.
The stranger touched Todd's face, delicately caressing his cheek, his lips, and Todd looked up, confused by the warmth and mislaid intimacy. He put his hands up, attempting to keep this stranger off him, but at the same time wanting the affection, leaning into the touches, thinking Brandy was doing it. Maybe it was Téa …
"You need money?" the stranger asked, a cold hand dropping onto the back of Todd's neck.
Todd shook his head in an uncommitted fashion, shrugging one shoulder, "Don't we all need money?" He sort of chuckled, his eyes stuck on the earrings. Glittery things like stars, glistening and sparkling, shooting off blinding light, celestial light. Blond hair peeked out from beneath the cap, mismatched from a dark face, a face still clouded. The colors were off ... he thought suddenly. Was it blond? White? Brandy has dark hair. Was it the moon that lit her hair this way? The eyes ... they were ... familiar.
"You hustling, ain't ya'?" the voice asked. Hands kept touching Todd who weakly tried to push them away. No energy to do a better job of it. At the same time, he was getting increasingly confused, reality and imaginings blending. Thinking maybe this was Brandy doing her thing with him. He felt a hand at his crotch, rubbing him, getting him hard, and he held her hand like he always did… his head hitting the wall when she snapped open his jeans, reached inside, and grabbed his cock, stroking it.
It felt so good, so fucking good.
He held tight to Brandy's coat sleeve and moved against the fucking hard grip, a sure grip. Didn't understand why Brandy was doing this to him here … in the park. He could hear grunting whimpers and somewhere inside knew he was the one making that noise … Brandy's touching getting better…faster…
"Oh shit…shit…look at you…"
The voice confused him, not Brandy, not her at all. No matter, he heard in his head, just keep going. Todd held onto the wool, writhing against the cold concrete until he finally ejaculated, shuddering at each pulsing sensation. He slumped in post-orgasmic weakness, slipping back into his delicious heroin half-sleep. And in that sleep, Brandy-whoever left and his hand was pulled downwards, shoved against fleshy hardness. He suddenly knew where he was, back in Peter's house, in his outside bedroom, out in the darkness, and he knew what he had to do so he quieted, quiet as a tiny mouse, and let Peter do the work, huffing and puffing and thumping against him. A hard hand held his, tightening his fingers around the cock.
He bit his lip to keep quiet… quiet… a child's sleep disrupted. He stared blankly at the stars until he felt warm familiar wet seeping and a hot mouth on his throat, sucking at skin, and ending with a gentle nip at his lip. He turned to get away from things, pulled his hand away, rubbing slime on the sheets, disconnected like a robot. The all-too-real flashback was too much so he grabbed onto his heroin high and swung across the moat to the Princess. She wrapped her arms around him and comforted the boy in her arms. The night was silent again, other than gentle breathing.
The two rested against the wall, Todd slipping down in the mud again, grateful for the Princess. Grateful for forgetting.
He was pulled up once more, his body weak and spent, and a new voice spoke low and husky into his ear, breaking through the haze, "Listen, we can do much more than this. I'll pay you a lot of money for much, much more."
More…more…
Todd found himself staring into a stranger's face. Something brought him back to earth. The dreams…he remembered the dreams and they weren't all good. He struggled against the stranger who laughed ugly and he pushed until he wasn't being touched anymore, really mixed up now. A certain truth niggled at him. Scared of the dark and the stranger. Peter and Brandy had gone away. He inched along the wall, seeing only slightly clearer. Hoped like hell … please please please … this man hadn't actually been jacking him off, he didn't actually give something back. Just a dream, a nightmare, Peter haunting him…that's all. Fuckin' dope fuckin' me up.
He slammed his hand against his nose and breathed and smelled the scent of come and denied, denied, denied. Wiped his hand hard on his jeans, cupped himself, protecting himself. Buttoned up tight. The man talked some more but Todd couldn't make out what he said.
"What … what did you say?"
"You want money for more? 'Cause you a hustler, right? Selling your pretty shit for money? I can ... pay you. I have a lot of cash. For more."
The words tiptoed across the gap between the two and Todd imagined the individual sounds bumping right up against him. Hustl- er. Hustle - er. Sell - ing some - thing for mo - ney. His dream…confused him. A memory? What was real and what wasn't? Is it Memorex? He gagged, the heroin puke at the back of his throat. The scent in his nostrils. He couldn't stop smelling it.
What you want, baby?
"No…no," Todd said, trying to keep focus on the man with weirdly familiar eyes.
Something for cash. Oh shit. I ain't no faggot... bitch. I ain't that.
Todd tried to move, struggling now to get away but the man held him fast against the wall once more. He held onto the wool coat, trying to keep the stranger away. He was so weak though, he couldn't fight the man off.
"Hey, hey, slow down there, buddy, s'okay…come on…god, you are so sweet...I got cash... you can buy more dope and I can fuck you. Only this time it'll be in the ass. Fuck, I'm hard again." The man grabbed Todd again, grabbed his butt, and now things were clearer…the guy picked him off the bathroom floor…and…more…and he was goddamn scary. Scary as Peter. Brandy knew this kind of fear, too. He lifted his hand to see if the wetness was still there, if Peter's marking lasted more than the flashback. He saw, felt, nothing but icy air. He rubbed and rubbed his hand on the concrete behind him.
The man chuckled, "Come on, be a good boy to Daddy…"
Terror flooded his system, realizing fully what was happening as the man pressed his body flush against Todd's and held a hand on his ass, pressing him, kneading him. No fucking dream.
"No ... no, no…you got me all wrong….please...stop…"
Too close ... too touchy … panting hard in his ear, "I don't have it wrong at all. You fuckin' liked it."
Shhhh… forget about it… forget how easy it always was, how second-fucking-nature ...
Hands and mouth... intrusive, hard hands ... so dangerous. He pushed…pushed the hands away that were squeezing his crotch…
"No...please…don't…don't do that…"
"Yeah, I knew it…" A dirty laugh. A hot whisper at his ear. "Your cock is ready again. Oh yeah, feel that? God, I wanna get inside of you."
Todd finally managed a hard punch at the stranger and he lurched to the side, falling to the ground, working to get up because he remembered a time when he'd fallen and crawled, kept crawling to get away and couldn't, so he got to his feet, spinning around to face the guy. Walking backwards as the man laughed, "Whoa…what's the matter, pretty boy? Suddenly I ain't good enough for you? I ain't a cop or anything if that's what you're worried about. You like this… you loved it… all breathin' hard and shit…coming just as hard. You'd have fuckin' choked me had you been in my mouth with all that! Hey, hey, I won't tell anybody about what we do together. I won't tell a soul. Come back… come again."
Todd tore away as quickly as he could, running, stumbling, hitting icy dirt at one point. He heard the man laughing far behind him, yelling, "I ain't gonna tell nobody! Gonna be our secret… come on… you got my attention now… come on… come on, pretty boy… you ain't chicken, are you?! COME ON!"
The guy was laughing at him. Familiar. Eerie. Shhhh... don't tell. Todd turned to look for him, feeling the man on his heels, feeling the heat of someone catch-catch-catching him … but he was gone. The dreams were sliding in and out of his head, the dark a welcome fog. He cut across the park and headed towards the lights of the city, downtown not too far away. He felt wetness on his face and wiped hard at it. Tears. He was sweating like a bitch.
Just run, if you can't fly. Run as fast as you can.
In this state, he couldn't get angry, couldn't use his steel-toed boots against the man who got all touchy and shit, more, more, more… couldn't kill him. Not enough motivation, not enough to rouse that ugliness inside of him. Not in this state. Besides, was it really that man's fault? He knew what Todd was, just a whore down on his luck. Just a desperate junkie faggot whore. It's okay, nothing happened anyway. Nothing happened. Nothing… happened. Deny, deny, deny. He grabbed his wounded self over his jeans. Hot wet dripped down his face and he gasped for air as he ran.
What you want? I can give you anything ... I do it all. You just gotta ask my permission. What you see ... is what you get. I don't discriminate.
The night was so dark and so cold but the chill didn't affect him much. When he looked at his hands, they were shaking and red. He fell to his knees and rubbed his hands over and over on the cold asphalt until they were raw. Scraped until he could taste blood and tar on his palms.
Shhhhhh...
Walk. Walk. Just keep walking. His face was wet and he knew he was crying but there wasn't an ounce of emotion behind it. Tears just kept falling. Snot rolling out of his nose. He kept wiping but the shit just kept coming.
As he trudged across the last of the snowy dead grass, he glimpsed the stars. The wind burned his cheeks as he imagined flying through smoky air, the propellers spinning, relentless and noisy, the ground below him littered with kills, fire lighting up the dead Allies which marked his deadly path. He could see the cheerleaders he'd raped, could see Nora, Marty, Carol, Michelle, Starr, Jedediah and Viki. Blair. He could see Téa, too. Oh and wasn't that Ian Armitage and the cowboy?
Shhhh... I won't tell anybody what we do together. Won't tell how you whimper like a puppy against my neck the more I touch you. Won't tell how you move against me to get me to do more to you. Won't tell how you dig into my arms and cry out when you finally come.
Deny, deny! 'Cause he had the red airplane to escape in and money now, too, cash he stole from Starr, and it would be easy to get more because he could do it all, right? I don't discriminate. The money would last a while, would last for his entire designated time at the heroin party he was currently attending.
Thank you ... yes ... thank you, I'll take of some of that. Shoot me up right here ... yeah ... jack up the whole bag ... yeah. Tie me up tight, now. Right there, that's right ... right ... there. Aren't the strings of light beautiful tonight? The endless rows of glory above us are so perfect tonight. And isn't the music lovely tonight? I don't dance, but I'll watch you. I'll watch your pretty legs and your delicate step and your swaying hips. I'll watch you smile and laugh. I'll watch you wish for me to take your hand and I promise, I'll be right next to you the whole time.
I'll breathe with you, I'll die with you.
The dreams were gone.
He looked around, finding himself in the shadows of a city alleyway, trash lining the street. He was sitting on the cold ground. He hurt all over. He didn't know how long he'd been here. He tasted puke and sucked at his palm because blood was better. Back against the wall, legs spread out, his hair caught on plaster and pinched when he pulled away. Must have been rubbing his head against the wall. He wiped his mouth and glanced around some more. Llanview Boulevard stared at him, long streets, shining streetlights. Clearer eyes now, the cold waking him up. He sniffled. Rubbed his nose. Felt itchy. Felt that come-down off the heroin high. Usually it was nicer, but tonight it just felt empty. Went along with the pit of dread in belly. He held his crotch, noting how sore he was. Wounded. Too rough on him. He sat there a bit, watching a cautious couple walk past, gazing at their unreadable faces.
I'll be with you. Let me ... let me. Let me show you all I can do. Let me show you all I know.
Another person was hustling down the alley. A professional, don't-fuck-with-me walk. He stopped cold when the moon's light hit her face. He held his breath, eyes wide, lips parted. It was like seeing a diamond sparkling from beneath a pile of worthless black coal. Exhaled slowly…
Beautiful you. I can breathe with you now. Let me… let me...
He scrambled to his feet to follow. He watched her turn the corner of Llanview Boulevard and Sixteenth Street, watched her weave in and out among the other street strollers, few there were at this late hour. She kept looking around, kept checking the faces of those she passed. She hadn't seen him in the alley, so dug into the shadows he'd been. Every so often she'd glance down at a person sleeping in a doorway, examining their faces, too. Todd smiled slightly as she pulled her hooded coat around her tighter, the hood falling back, exposing her medium-length brown hair, exposing who she was. Exposing...
Téa Delgado.
Todd sniffed the thick night air, rubbed his nose again. He fought off a desire to grab her. To wrap his arms around her. Other thoughts broke in, though.
Shhh ... don't think about the money in your pocket. It wasn't for Starr ... shhh... don't think about the stranger… touching… touching… don't think about the relieving end, how you made him touch you harder, faster. Because it didn't happen. Deny, deny, deny. Don't think about what you did to your Johnny-girl. How you made her disappear into her own head, the way you used to, the way Marty did. No, don't think about those things. No one will hurt you here... and you won't hurt anyone either. They can't reach you now.
Breathe with her.
The night seemed to bring out the worst of the underground population. Like rats, cockroaches, they crawled out from under their proverbial and literal rocks, from basement hovels, from rich living rooms. Wealthy losers visiting their regular whores, picking up their fixes of cocaine, crack, heroin ... weed. Todd stepped carefully, following Téa, wanting to protect her from the vermin that scampered around her, that sniffed at her, and eyed her hungrily. She had no idea how dangerous it was out here, how ... vulnerable she was.
I don't have it wrong at all. You fuckin' liked it.
His light eyes lingered on the backs of her covered legs, slipping down to the heels of her leather shoes as they hit the pavement.
I'll watch you dance from my place of peace ... I'll breathe with you.
He had to shake his head to break the hypnotic effect of her walk. He needed to be more with it, to protect her. It was so very dangerous out here.
Are you afraid, Delgado? No need to be. Just take a deep breath and close your eyes. It'll all be over sooner than you know. You won't need to search anymore. No need to bother yourself anymore.
Todd flowed along on Téa's hunt much like a twig drifting on the surface of a quiet creek, bobbing with the current, slipping in and out of the water, pushed. Or was it dragged? Téa stopped abruptly and whipped around, surprising Todd, flashing those brown eyes of hers at him, eyes full of worry and awareness. Todd quickly stepped into an open entranceway and Téa stared right past him as if he was invisible, as if he was merely part of the trash-lined street. Suspicious eyes she had and he smiled to himself, a bare lifting of the corners of his mouth.
You feel me, don't you? Let me watch you dance. Can I touch you? Can I kiss you?
She squinted and turned back, continuing on her walk, on her pilgrimage into the depths of Llanview Hell. Todd followed, haunted eyes trained on her, watching, ever watching from afar. And wasn't that how they always were? So close ... yet so far. An old cliché. His life ... clichéd trash. How long had it been since he left the hospital? Months. Years. An elderly homeless man boasting the latest Salvation Army layered look said something to Téa and she turned her head to him, shaking it. Saying, no. She walked a bit faster and so did Todd. Glaring at the old man as he passed, he muttered a curse to which the old man flipped him off. Todd bared his teeth at him like a mean-ass dog.
Yeah, fuck you, too, you old rat.
The streets were sparse. Lots of boarded up buildings that were occupied by unacknowledged tenants, faltering businesses, booming liquor stores and cash exchanges. The people were varied – some homeless, some with an agenda who clearly were not homeless. Some people were crazy, others weren't. Destiny, Todd thought. It was like these people were all meant to be here. The pimp hovering around his three whores wasn't meant to do anything other than what he was doing; the drug dealer, the same. The older guy standing in the doorway to his shop was meant to be exactly in that place where he stood. Predestination, a mapped out existence, nobody had any choice. Téa ... she was right where she was supposed to be, and Todd ... well, he was, too. In the shadows, watching. Only watching.
Téa started talking to a woman who came upon her and Todd ducked deeper into the shadows.
After the conversation which Todd didn't hear, she started walking again, looking at a group of prostitutes and Todd could tell her surprise at the arrogance in the women's faces. They were businesswomen. Not like Brandy. She was different. She knew nothing else, she knew no other way. Like him. Everything felt destined. Téa stopped again. Turned her head slightly. Shook her head and made a left from the boulevard down into another alley. She looked upwards for a moment. Face illuminated by the moon. Face like an angel. Todd looked up too. Looked at the stars, too. She shoved her hands into her pockets and looked at the ground as she walked. For only a few moments. For just long enough.
She shouldn't have done that. She should never have stopped hunting.
To be continued…..