A young male's voice, sing-songy loud and pissed off...wakes Tea up. She opens her eyes, and squints...listening...trying to recognize...
"...this time I'm 'a let it all come out...this time I'm 'a stand up and shout...I'm 'a do things my way..."
Ugh...rap...I hate rap, she thinks, as she sits up, slowly...her joints stiff and bent from sleeping in an odd position. As she straightens up, she looks around...and suddenly realizes she doesn't know where she is. This was a different place entirely...a run-down house with graffiti all over the walls. The only light is from a fire, burning somewhere out in the hall. The smell of the smoke mixed with other nasty odors, stings her nose. She stands up quickly, trying to get her bearings...
...then she realizes something else...that it isn't unfamiliar at all. She's been here before. Her mouth falls open as she looks around again, and the place reintroduces itself, sending a flood of bad memories back through her. A hard breath catches in her throat as she runs out of the room and down the hall, frantically looking for the way out.
"God...no...no..." she whispers, as she runs and runs...but the hallway just keeps going, stretching out for miles in front of her. She becomes aware of another sound, underneath the deafening rap...a woman? Someone...crying out. Tea stops, trying to find the source...then she hears it again, coming from a room just in front of her...a girl's muffled crying...
"Help me!!!!"
Tea's breath catches again, as she walks toward the sound, cautiously. She hears struggling, more crying...muffled...as if the girl were gagged, her mouth covered. Tea shuts her eyes, afraid to see what's going on...but knowing she must. The rap continues on over it all, hiding the sounds of resistance, as Tea cranes her neck, peering into the room. She hears a loud, fleshy SLAP! which makes her jump. Her eyes open again, wide...staring into the room, at the girl on the floor...her face turned to one side, reeling from the hit. A man...no...a teenager...a boy...hovers over her, whispering to her. The girl cries, still trying to squirm and struggle her way out of his grasp. But he holds her in, his body doubling as a sort-of cage.
No...please...let me go!!!" she cries...but the boy just laughs at her, whispering to her again.
Tea stands outside the door, swallowing hard...trying to get up the nerve to intervene. She looks at the boy, long and hard...finding something familiar about him, even though she's never seen him before. Longish, light-colored hair hides his face; and dark, dingy clothes hang loosely on his scrawny frame. Tea swallows again...finding herself getting angrier, as she watches him terrorize the girl.
HEY!! she finally yells, with a volume and strength that carries over all the noise...just like a mother. The girl looks right over, crying now with relief. The boy takes longer though, turning his head slowly, deliberately. And Tea's breath catches in her throat once again, when he finally makes eye contact with her...
...because it's as if...she's looking at herself. The face that faces her...is her own...but not entirely. Her features...mixed with someone else's. The boy grins...malicious, with a rage that lights his eyes green, blue and brown all at the same time.
Just like Todd's.
...oh my god...
....I'm a' do things my way...it's my way...my way, or the highway…
***********************
Tea coughs, almost choking as she bolts up in the bed. Eyes still closed, she freezes immediately...afraid to see where she might be now. She breathes hard, open-mouthed and panicked, as she opens her eyes. Then her shoulders start to relax, dropping down as she recognizes the room...the tiny house...her hiding place, deep in the middle of nowhere. She brings her knees up under the covers, to support her elbows as she buries her head and cries for a moment...purging the nightmare.
Then she hears a soft gurgling...the unmistakable sound of the babies. She looks up, toward the small, portable crib on the floor in front of the fireplace. Through the mesh net, she can see the boys lying there, legs kicking, arms flailing...doing what babies do. Sniffling, Tea looks at her watch to see how long she'd been asleep...wondering how long they'd been awake. Had she neglected them? Had they been crying? She wonders as she throws the covers off and quickly moves over to them, bending down to scoop Evan up...always attending to the needy one first. The baby makes a high-pitched cooing noise, like a bird, as she hugs him.
"Oh, god...I'm sorry," she whispers...burying her face in his little shoulder, comforting herself as well as him. Evan kicks happily, seemingly content for a change, as she looks down at Brendan. When she makes eye contact with him, with those steady eyes of his...her stomach drops.
It was him...his eyes...they were his eyes she'd seen.
She takes a deep breath, reaching in to touch him; but she finds herself actually hesitating for a second. She has to close her eyes, and clear her head with another deep breath to get her hand to go all the way down, and touch the baby's tummy. Once she does, though, his softness and warmth go right up her arm, erasing the horrible images of her nightmare. She relaxes a little, rubbing his belly soothingly...while Brendan opens his mouth wide, in the way babies usually show their approval...his eyes lighting up green-blue-brown...but with happiness, with recognition of her...not a trace of anger. Relieved, Tea smiles, as she squeezes his toes affectionately, then looks over toward the window, seeing streaks of light cutting through the musty curtains. Shifting Evan around onto her other shoulder, Tea walks over and peeks out, squinting at the drab, cloudy-day light. She sees the gravel drive, the trees beyond, the tall weeds all around the house...about all there is to see.
She sighs, coming away from the window...patting Evan's back as she puts him back down next to Brendan. Then she opens the bedroom door, making a face when it squeaks. She steps lightly out into the main room, trying to be quiet, as she heads for the kitchen to cook up some formula for the boys. She looks over toward the couch, where she assumes Dean is sleeping...as her hand reaches for a small pot on a shelf.
PA-PING! CRASH!
Tea cringes, as the pot clatters to the floor, and the noise dies down. She looks over at the couch, expecting him to jump up. But he doesn't. In fact, nothing happens. She makes a face, bending down to pick up the pot...then she walks over toward the couch, and makes another face when she sees he's not there. It only takes one look to either side of her to see that she's alone. So she grabs her coat, and runs outside, to the back of the house, where the car was.
Was. Not anymore. Tea sighs harshly, throwing her hands up in frustration. Her breath comes out in steamy clouds, as she looks all around, uselessly...knowing he certainly wasn't hiding in the woods or anything. Nope...she was alone. Stranded. Trapped. She almost starts to cry, but anger pulls the tears back. She looks up at the sky, then down at the woods...featureless, surrounding her like a fortress. She and the boys are at least a hundred miles from the nearest town, and at least five or ten from the nearest house.
She is, in the classic sense...fucked.
With a low grumble, Tea kicks at the gravel as she turns and storms back into the house, slamming the door behind her.
********************
Sure it took him a while to figure it out, to dig up this one piece of the puzzle, but he feels closer to Tea because of it, closer to learning where she had run off to, and that's what mattered…yeah, yeah. He can't remember exactly what triggered the final connection - maybe it was the scent of mildew-covered concrete on her mystical skin, or the way the funeral moonlight belly-danced in the gloss of her dead eyes, eyes that saw him through prison walls, across barbed wire. Could have even been her bony structure...ankles, ribs, hips, skin-covered ivory digging into his flesh, a skinny body thanks to anemic prison food. Or maybe it was the feel of metal handcuffs scraping down his back...ankle cuffs cold against his calves.
That's right, the whole picture had smashed together in one brutalizing moment, somewhere between his wrecked bedroom, and the unconscious Randall James laid out on the living room floor, spat upon. He needs more, though...more information, more proof... more.
"Sorry about that shit, man," Todd mumbles to himself, glancing up at a blackish cloud shifting above him. "Had no choice, Gannon - you were in my way."
The Llantano County Women's Correctional Facility disfigures the looming skyline in front of him, graying the emerald hills and muddying serene country estates. Government-sanctioned hell, Todd sniffs, leaning back against the door of his truck as he considers prison life...remembering, preparing to step back into that world. Even if for just a short time. He will need everything inside of him - he'll need all that power. Fingering the bruise on his neck, he inhales the cool air and relaxes...lets his mind wander...lets it drift away, swirling around his still body, quick as a snake in water. But then that snake grows wings and rises up dragon-like into the sky, a wild plume of energy piercing the clouds, turning mid-air and crashing down in a burst of sparks and light - landing invisibly before Roseanne Delgado.
"And so she shows herself," he breathes.
Strange the way he can sense her, because he doesn't exactly "see" her...no, it is more of a vivid, spatial awareness. Every detail of her sharp-featured face presses into him, her black hair flaps in the breeze and swipes at his face...the bright prison jumpsuit covering up her familiar bony figure. An old tattoo on the inside of her forearm hisses itself to him, "Dreamgirl." Smallish black letters marching a goose step across perfect buttery skin. She grins, smirks, but then becomes serious and suddenly, she looks him directly in the eyes.
"Ohhh, look...it's my cemetery lover," she whispers. "You've found ME, but what about THEM? Can you hear your babies crying, Todd? Can you see their sweet bellies, their bitable toes?" A chuckle belts out into a laugh, almost a cackle, as she concludes:
"No...I BET you CAN'T.
Poof, the vision disintegrates and Todd shakes his head, thinking he dreamt the pictures - he knows better, though. He had seen Roseanne just now, had stood in front of her and she had seen him. Anger simmers in the pit of his stomach, he knowing, just knowing how close he is to evil's teat, it offering a sugary suck. Let me taste the milk if only a drop, he thinks, enough to shut her up, enough to… How dare she mention his boys...that bitch, that serpentine, coveting, sick bitch.
He raises his hands, sees them shaking - he isn't getting through this unscathed. His own hatred has once again burned a hole in his heart and it's weakened him. It had forced Tea to take herself and their boys away, she escaping what must have been her own imprisonment, he the warden, he the bars themselves. Good reason - what he'd done to Starr, his reaction, must have scared her something harsh, because that look on her face said it all, told him how ugly he was, how...monstrous. He'd run, too, if he could. If he could crawl out of himself, he'd slither away and be free. He'd do it.
Straightening up, he rubs his rough chin with the back of his hand...his tongue running along the inside of his cheek, chasing around a bullet of anxiety. Slowly, he trudges across the lot, gravel crunching beneath his feet. He walked a similar route before, crossed ruined county asphalt when he'd been released from the men's facility. He had a lot of hope in those days, thinking of another woman. Thinking she'd love him, she'd free him. He remembers the crushed hope, too - not so different from what he feels now.
"No woman can save you, Manning," he reminds himself as he looks left and right, absorbing the length of the building - its seeming impenetrability. "It's gotta come from you...inside of you." Takes a deep breath.
The massive iron gate rolls open, and a hefty guard approaches him, snarling, "State your business."
"I'm here on visitation - I want to see prisoner Roseanne Delgado."
"You family?"
"Extended - she's my sister-in-law. Bringing her news."
The man regards Todd suspiciously. Chews on his fat lip a moment and then nods him in. " 'spect to be searched. Don't be shy."
"Yeah...right."
The thought of a cop's hands poking at him makes him edgy and he swallows back the hesitation. Reaches deep and forces himself to forget about it - reminds himself of those "sweet bellies and bitable toes." Dips himself in the madness and focuses his attention where it belongs - on Roseanne. He gets stopped at the next checkpoint.
The guard checks his identification, flipping the card front and back - then types Todd's name into the computer. After a second, he then looks back up, a strange little grin playing on thin lips. "Todd Manning. Nice name...nice RECORD."
"Mmm...glad our U.S. of A. is still hiring LITERATES to work our beloved prison system."
The guard gives him an unimpressed, 'hardy-har-har' look. "Hands behind your head, Mr. Manning. Spread 'em." He then adds, too close to Todd's ear, "Welcome home."
"Fucker," Todd grumbles, shaking his head as he assumes the familiar stance of hands raised and feet apart - hands patting him, checking for contraband. Todd grunts at the intrusion - hating this place, hating being under a cop's screws again, even this way.
The guard backs away and stares Todd down. "You carrying?"
"Yeah - a lot of patience."
"Y'know, I COULD strip-search you. Your record entitles me to do that---"
"I'm not carrying anything other than the clothes on my back and my wallet and my keys," Todd replies, abruptly cutting him off.
Another guard snorts arrogantly, and then after a moment or two, motions for the first guard to wave Todd through...adding that quitting time was near, and that Delgado wasn't a known druggie...so contraband wasn't likely to be found, as fun as a strip-search might be. The doors unlocked noisily and in seconds, Todd follows another officer down a series of barred hallways, a disconcerting silence surrounding them.
"Well...this is your lucky day," the guard says as they walk, with a distinct lack of emotion. "They just finished putting in the new visiting room. No more chatting through bulletproof glass."
Todd eyes him, taking the information in, as they get to the end of the hall. The new guard stops and says, "Wait here - this gate'll buzz open. And remember...no funny business. NO TOUCHING. Just talking." Then he walks away, leaving Todd alone. He lets out a heavy sigh of odd relief at that, and grabs onto the bars. Leans forward to feel the coolness of them against his cheeks...their familiarity. A mere closing of his eyes, and it is him behind the bars, hitting his head against the metal to be let out, begging to be released...teeth biting skin and the taste of blood filling his mouth...so very alone. Standing tall again, he shoos away the images, the memories. No time for self-pity, no time, no time.
Then a startling, buzzing sound rings out and the gate slides open, a door opening beyond that. His nose wrinkles at the smell of new paint as he walks into a large, bright room, eyeing the ten or so tables scattered throughout, chairs flanking each side. A few guards stand at various points, almost statuesque with their automatic rifles pointed towards the ceiling. No other visitors, though. Todd sits down at one of the tables - facing the door where Roseanne would soon be shuffled through. Taps his fingers against the already scratched-up, painted steel.
