FIVE DAYS HAD passed and my external wounds had healed, or, at least, were in the process of, but Dex kept me chained to my bed as if I was terminally ill. I suppose, he wasn't too far off from the truth. I was ill, perhaps fatally, but the sickness was not in my body. No--my illness had penetrated my soul and consumed it from within. I could no longer sit in one place in solitude. Silence became my greatest enemy for it magnified the voices I longed to suppress. Lying in bed, as if welcoming death, was a trip through hell for me, but sadly, Dex did not understand.
He meant well but on the fifth day, when he left my uncle's house with the excuse of picking up my overdue medicine, I couldn't have been more relieved. I had been this close to ripping out my hair. The second the door closed on his retreating figure, I threw over the two heavy blankets he had tucked me in with and planted my feet on the cool, hardwood floor. I recoiled as chills traveled up the back of my my spine, raising the hair on my arms, but the sensation of the warmth dissipating from my body, fleeing from the cold like an evil spirit, provided me the solace I craved. At last, my heart was once more a frozen wasteland.
Happiness, however, was as allergic to me as I was to peanuts. No matter what shape or form it came in, its presence was short-lived. It was as if my body had developed an intolerance for it because the second I found myself unconsciously smiling, my stomach twisted upon itself. Clutching my bedsheets with both hands, I lurched forward and gasped as the waves of nausea traveled up my digestive tract. I stood there, motionless, for a good thirty seconds, suspended a few inches above my bed, my heels digging into the floor, before my body reconnected with my brain.
I slumped back onto my bed, drained. Sweat clung to me like an extra layer of skin. It was only a matter of time before the all-too-familiar sensation of a needle digging into my scalp overwhelmed my senses. The darkness that would follow afterwards was my least favorite experience, however. It wasn't painful or uncomfortable like the others. By comparison, it was the most peaceful. Yet, it was the worst. The momentary blackout was torturous because it gave the illusion of being the end. Fading to black universally meant closure, or completion, but in my case, it was just the beginning.
My ears perked up as I forced my eyes shut, my other senses heightening.
"Angelinaaa...stay with us." Warm, tangible voices slurring and hissing like demonic snakes called out to me. "Don't leaveee us."
A strange sensation, akin to that of a feather's caress, took hold of my foot. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Panting, I crumbled on the floor a few feet away from my bed, a heap of bones. Although I almost always preferred the cold over hot, humid environments, I could not stand the bone-chilling air that surrounded me during my episodes. I shivered, and shrunk within myself.
My bedroom door was only a couple of feet away, but an invisible forcefield prevented me from leaving the room. The voices reached out to me, and I bent down from their weight. They did not want me to leave, but I had to. If I didn't pull myself out of the trance I was liable to fall into from time to time, I would relapse into the past. That was the one thing in the world that I wished to avoid at all cost. Closing my eyes, I repeated over and over, like a mantra, they are not real. Don't listen to them, Angie. You're just imagining them. They are NOT real!
I was possessed, but only I had the ability to free myself, or so my therapist said. Taking her advice, I repeated my mantra until my tongue became drier than sand paper. It felt heavy within my mouth. Stretching my vocal chords to their limits, I screamed at the voices to just leave me alone! I hate myself for what I did but I am doing my best to make-up for it! Hadn't I paid for it enough? They did not believe so. Nonetheless, the stronger my voice became, the further the voices went. I did not know how long I sat there, mumbling incoherently to myself, but eventually the voices left and, in their place, came a void. An all-consuming black hole, precisely where my soul should be.
Although my stubborn nature was already caustic to most, the frosty aura that surrounded me after an episode was enough to put even the brightest of people on edge.
"You alright?" Don asked, stepping cautiously inside my room.
I nodded, gripping my bed-stand with one hand. I was hunched over, my right arm clutching my oversized t-shirt as if I had been shot in the stomach, but I was fine—physically.
"I'm fine," I said as I sat down on the bed. A twisted sense of pride washed over me as I noted the lack of tremor in my voice. You're quite the actress, my subconscious said. Sporting a haughty grin, my chest puffed with arrogance, I looked at the mini-me and simply said, I know.
"Right," he said, leaning against the doorframe. He crossed his arms, a silent action, but I could almost read his mind. He was just like Dex, and it was beginning to get on my nerves. "Tell me something. Do you honestly believe what comes out of your mouth or are you just great at faking confidence?"
I braced myself, my teeth grinding on top of each other. The flashbacks were lingering in the shadows, luring me in. As the bile rose in the back of my throat, my eyes widened for a split second. The cycle was never-ending, and it was about to make its second round. I could practically taste the eggs and anti-depressant medications in the back of my throat. I couldn't let him know that, though. Mustering all my strength, I swallowed down the bitter bile and quickly cleansed my face of all emotions.
I scoffed—at him and myself. So much for the pills—they barely made a difference.
"Dex told you to watch over me," I said in a matter-of-the-fact tone. I wiped the corners of my eyes before Don could notice the tears of frustration threatening to run down the sides of my face. Although Don and Dex were equal in their overbearingness, there was a reason I preferred the former's company. He was easier to manipulate.
"If that's a question—yes, yes he did. But...don't take it in a wrong way. I just wanted to see how you were doing after the botched mission. It must be difficult for you to—"
I stood up, my legs barely supporting my weight. "What are you talking about? The mission was a success."
He gave me a once-over, briefly gliding his eyes over the length of my body. "You call that a success? You barely escaped with your life. And need I remind you, you passed out in my car after making grandiose statements about starting an underground war."
I scoffed. "Please. Being injured doesn't mean I lost or the mission was, as you said, 'botched.' I like to think of them as battle scars. And, just so we're clear, the whole thing was a success. Whether I passed out or not is irrelevant."
He gave me a knowing look. "Are we really having this conversation again? You know that I support your mission, Angie. I really do. But, your first mission went off the rails within the first thirty seconds, and you know that. I think you really need to examine your priorities again. What comes first for you? Your health or your mission?"
I did not miss a beat. "My mission. Health and everything else ties for second place."
"Are you sure?" he asked.
I crossed my arms as well. "Are you sure that you're on my side?"
He rolled his eyes. "Real mature, Angie. I just said that I am."
I bent my head, dangling my hair in front of my face. Being defensive was becoming second nature for me, especially since my "allies" spent a whole lot of time second-guessing me and my motives. At this point, there were simply not enough words in the dictionary to describe what this mission meant to me. It was my life's goal to avenge the annihilation of my entire family, but explaining this to them was futile. They hadn't experienced my loss, felt my pain, or dealt with the after-math. I did. Hence, they also failed to truly feel the fervor of revenge coloring my thoughts and the passion of justice coursing through my blood. If only I could grab them by their shoulders and shake some sense into them, I'd have one less problem to worry about.
Since I couldn't exactly run around bashing everyone who didn't see eye-to-eye with me, I had learned to be quick of my feet. In record's time, I thought of and analyzed the best way to dissuade Don from doubting me.
I walked over to my bedside drawer and pulled out the rolled-up artwork. Placing it on the bed, I sat down and patted the spot next to me. He did not protest, but his eyes followed me apprehensively.
"Look." I sighed, toying with the rubber band in my hand. "I know you and Dex think I'm over my head, and maybe you're right. Maybe I ran into many issues in my last mission...maybe I'm still too young, and untrained..."
"I sense a but coming," he said, interrupting my train of thought.
Glaring at him, I shoved his shoulder lightly before clearing my throat. "Here's the thing..." I unrolled the artwork, revealing to him the secrets of my game plan. Like Dex, he had seen it before, but from a distant with me always keeping something out of sight. This time, he had an unadulterated view and he didn't spare a moment raking it all in.
Strategically, I softened my voice. I held the giant canvas spanning the length of my wingspan in front of me as a shield. "I don't really care about any of that. This...this right here. This is my destiny."
I pointed at a name on the bottom of the canvas. "Right now, I'm right here. Fooling around with the lowest of the bunch...and I thought I had it all under control. I didn't, exactly. But, despite some setbacks, guess what? I still got the job done."
He didn't loosen his stance. His arms were still crossed, exuding an inflexible attitude, but the golden specks in his amber irises were shining in the low-light of my room. It meant he was willing to give me the benefit of the doubt, and that was all I needed to persuade him—a chance.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I didn't exactly tell you the whole truth," I said.
His eyebrows rose on his face. The lack of hair on his head made his face more expressive, a characteristic that I treasured in him. It made it a lot easier to read the slight nuances in his usually guarded face, and that came in handy in situations like this.
"My aim was not to kill the Klein Brothers, nor was it to dismantle their gang. That would've been a nice plus, but it wasn't a priority."
"But Dex said..." he trailed off.
I swatted my hand in the air, as if erasing a board of thoughts. "Don't listen to Dex. He's way too concerned about my well-being, which honestly makes him a liability. He's not thinking about all of this logically. He's too influenced by emotions."
I placed a comforting hand on Don's bulging biceps. "But, I know you're not like him. I'm not saying he's wrong for caring for me, but, you know how it is in the criminal world, right? If I don't finish what I've started, I'll always remain in a limbo."
"So..." he said, propping his arms behind him. "Since this is all news to me, can you explain to me what the whole objection was then?"
"Of course," I said, laying out the canvas on the bed. I sat on the edge of the bed, with one leg dangling off and the other neatly tucked underneath me. "You see this whole outline, right?"
"You've shown me before, but, honestly speaking, it looks like a family tree to me," he said, glancing at all the names I'd written.
I grinned at my handiwork. I had sparked his curiosity, which meant my hook had landed directly in the fish's mouth. All that remained was reeling him in.
"Exactly...except it's not a normal family tree. These are all the names of people and gangs who are relevant and have been prospering for the past five to six years. Some of these gangs have been wiped out by each other, others have been shut-down by the Feds or the locals...most of them, however, are still functioning last I checked..." I said, trailing off.
Whispers of the past coiled around my leg. It felt as if someone had tied an anchor to my leg. I was slowly unconsciously sliding off the bed, but the second I noticed, I surreptitiously clung onto the bedsheets to wade off the upcoming episode. Still, I could feel the voices sliding up my legs, up the length of my torso, and surrounding me like invisible spirits. My breaths became labored, as if I was on the brink of an asthmatic attack, but a hand shot out and pulled me out of the quicksand I had fallen in.
I blinked. Don's worried face blurrily came into my view, and just like that, as if a switch had been flipped, I was back.
"You were saying?" Don asked, gesturing towards my game plan. I felt the urge to engulf him in a hug. Had he not been here, only God knew how low I would've sunk into the murky depths of my past. Every time felt like my last. I could fall in one day and never be seen again; that was my greatest fear.
I took in a deep breath, savoring the way my lungs inflated with air instead of water. Slyly, I pinched my arm. It was becoming more and more difficult to convince myself that I wasn't dead, or drowning—whichever was worse.
"Yeah," I said, before clearing up my throat. "As I was saying...Arturo and the Klein Brothers were my way of announcing my presence and solidifying myself as a threat, simultaneously. And, it worked."
He didn't look convinced. "How do you know that? You've been caged in your room for the past five days. You couldn't possibly know that your plan worked."
A coy smile erupted on my face, throwing him off-guard. "Dex may be guarding me like a fire-breathing dragon, but he's not immortal. He has to fall asleep eventually, you know. And, last night, when he did, I found my phone—can you believe he hid it in the most obvious place? In his jeans?—anyways...and then I called Raul—"
"Whose Raul?" he asked, almost snapping his neck in half from a whiplash. I could've sworn I heard his neck crack. How he didn't die was beyond me. "How come I've never heard of this Raul guy before?"
I raised my arm in mock-surrender. "Calm down. Raul's just an insider. He's working for Monsoons."
"The Monsoons!" he exclaimed. His eyes bulged out of their sockets, like a cartoon character. "You got a guy working as a spy inside one of the most notorious gangs of all time? Are you nuts! Have you lost your damn mind?"
I waved my arms frantically in the air to calm him down, but he was like a raging bull and my hands a red flag. It only fired him up. "Hey, hey, hey! Just listen to me! He's a friend of a friend, and so far, he's been super helpful to me. I could not have made half of this criminal family tree had it not been for him. So, calm down!"
Unable to meet my eyes, he threw himself dramatically on the bed and glared into the ceiling. Once again, he crossed his arms. I scowled. He felt like a lost cause to me. All my efforts were foiled in a blink of an eye. All the time I had spent breaking down his defensive walls—he could give the Great Wall of China a run for its money—had gone to waste. I felt the urge to suffocate him with my own pillow, but I bit my lip and waited for him to make the first move.
After an eon of heavy silence, he finally spoke. "I don't like this. Ok? I don't."
I could've kissed his feet, right then and there, but I reigned in my emotions. The last thing I needed was for him to think that I had lost my sanity. "You've got to promise me that Dex won't find out...at least not yet. Okay? I need him to be out of the loop for this one. Understand? Please promise me."
He didn't respond, and I couldn't tell if it was because of Dex or me. Either way, I continued talking, hoping that eventually he'd see my point. "I called him yesterday and he told me that over fifty percent of the gangs I have listed on this have heard about me...and get this! They're all hunkering down because of me! Can you believe that? I've got them right where I want them."
"Is that really supposed to make me feel better?" he asked.
He rolled over onto his side and faced me. "Now you've got a million enemies and the only one who can protect you is me. Thanks for the pressure, mate."
"It just means that I got my point across. And, that it's kind of too late for me to back out anyways. If I did, they'd just find me and kill me. You wouldn't want that now, would you?" I asked.
He propped his head up on his elbow. "You're nuts, has anyone ever told you that?"
I grinned. "Once or twice."
I rolled up the outline once more and looked at him with a foreboding expression. "I've already started this, Don. And, I really need your help. I know you and Dex think that I shouldn't do this...but I am. There's no way around that, but with you on my side, I can pull this off."
"What do you say?" I asked, laying down next to him. "Are you still willing to go along with my foolish, probably fatal, plan?"
He smiled, his eyes brightening under my gaze. "You may be rubbing off on me, Angie...but, what the heck. I'm with you, every step of the way."
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