Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Sometimes, he still dreams about the girl.
He is always blind in the dreams, must be blind, because there is no way it could be too dark for him to see. He is blind, but he can hear everything, feel everything, and reality dissolves.
She gasps when his hand closes over her mouth, and he can feel that tiny suction, then the wriggling and flopping as he holds her tightly from behind, muffling her screams with his flesh. He whispers desperate consolation in her ear until the feeble spell of his voice finally takes hold, and she relaxes into his arms, shivering with the sobs that cannot quite escape.
He tapes her arms and legs, wraps her in his jacket, and sits with her through the night. Her breath freezes on the air, and he can almost hear the chime of those ice-crystal clouds. His skin freezes and cracks. He would bleed, but he has no blood left, and the cold makes him tired, as if he were a reptile. He could almost sleep.
Sebastian is in the dream, too. He plucks the telephone away and lashes out with a burning fist. Broken teeth, jaw, ribs. One punch, one kick, no more.
“Too late,” he says. “I’m already back. Running to a teenager for help? Really, Hugo? You’re such a goddamn baby.”
Sebastian’s hands are hot, and they can be soothing when they want to be. They stroke away the bruises, and he layers his voice with Power, whispering away the pain.
“I’m Leonard. I’m n-not Hugo, I’m Leonard. Leonard…”
“Shhh, don’t worry about it. You want the kid, that’s okay. You can have her. My gift.” His hot hands move south, gentle still. “Don’t cry, okay? I hate you when you cry.”
She is waiting when they get there.
She gasps when his hand closes over her mouth, and he can feel that tiny suction, then the wriggling and flopping as he holds her tightly from behind, muffling her screams with his flesh. His mouth is swollen and full of tears, and his voice is so much weaker than Sebastian’s. He cannot take away her fear, only make her stop twisting to give his poor ribs a rest.
He sits with her through the night and listens to her hurting, but he can no longer manage to care. Sebastian is in his head, squeezing his heart so tight he can barely feel, stroking his mind into silence. His throat burns with thirst. His veins ache, empty and hollow and screaming with lust, but he can’t care. He leaves without speaking to her, even though she begs, even though her faith is shattering into sunbursts on the dusty floor.
He sits in the car and presses himself close against the blasting heater. He is blind, but he seems to see deep brown eyes, slightly tilted, smiling, fringed with dark, sooty lashes. He could drown in those eyes, has drowned in them before, just like so many others. Bleak pools full of the drowned, full of bodies. The back of his mind is full of struggling, the clinking of chains. Sebastian is bleeding her. The blood is the life, and so much more. Teeth penetrate. Essence is shared. Eventually, she stops fighting.
Tomorrow, he thinks. I’ll do it tomorrow. He won’t bleed her if she’s mine.
But he doesn’t really care.
When he pushes her down the stairs, she has Kate’s voice. “Lyonya,” she cries, but that never happened, and Kate was a thousand years ago, and she hurt him more than he could ever have hurt her.
When he runs, the girl is probably dead. Sebastian’s voice is gone, and his skull echoes emptily.
Sometimes, he still dreams about the girl, but when he wakes, the world is white, and his bones are ice, and his name has bled away with the last of his strength. They call it permafrost for a reason, you know, and his hands are bound up in dirt that does not sing and cannot heal. The ghosts here are pale and ancient. They speak in tongues he does not know.
And freedom is bitter.
Introduction
Because
Based on a True Story
The Medium - Bit 1I never did decide whether Mara and I were a thing. Sometimes, I thought we were, and sometimes we definitely weren't, and sometimes it was just completely impossible to say what we were. I know I loved her. I think she loved me, but I'm not sure whether either of us was ever in love. Maybe. Often, though, I felt more like we were siblings. I don't know.
I do know that she was exactly the right shape. She fit perfectly under my arm, up against my side, like we were puzzle pieces and that was where she was supposed to go. We matched.
It was two in the morning, or maybe a little later. I was on the end of the couch, and Mara was where she belonged, there beside me. My mouth still tasted like cheap wine, the kind that leaves a sweater on your tongue. It had been hours since the real television had stopped and the endless commercials had started. The light from the screen caught on the two glasses, two bottles on the table. It lit up Mara's face. She had fallen asleep.
I let her stay there
The Medium - Bit 2It took us both a while, but we managed to get moving before noon. She spread out on the floor and graded short stories her freshman class had written. I did that laundry I was supposed to be doing, modified a lesson plan that just wasn’t going to work, and listened while Mara read off some of her better stories. She had some gifted students. So did I, but physics isn’t as much fun to read aloud, and I didn’t necessarily want to admit that a couple of my students had mistaken my multi-part questions for multiple choice. Circling one letter out of four isn’t a good thing when there’s supposed to be an answer for each letter. I was going to have to keep them after school to let them try again.
She flopped over at about one o’clock and looked at me upside down.
“I’m bored,” she told me. “Movie?”
I shrugged.
“Got a paper?”
I tossed her the newspaper and went to change into a sweater and fresh jeans, because I kne
The Medium - Bit 3We both got up early on Friday. At that time of year, we were always up before dawn, but I had somewhere to be, and Mara was my ride. I struggled into khakis, a sweater, and a windbreaker, and tossed my suitcase and backpack into the rear seat of Mara’s Datsun. I waited while she slapped on some makeup and shoved as much of her hair as she was able into a straining rubber band. She would be at school a lot earlier than she had to be, but we had both agreed that leaving early was a much better idea than getting a flat somewhere and ending up being late.
I handed her coffee in a vacuum mug and climbed into the car, sitting quietly while she peeled out of the driveway. I could handle early mornings, but until she had finished her first cup, Mara was only one bad joke away from homicide. She chugged most of it at the first light we hit.
Abilene isn’t a big place, and the streets are dead empty before daylight. There were sure to be some cops on their rounds, some sm
The Medium - Bit 4The Start of Something Bad
He seemed nice at first. I mean comparatively. There was really only one likely reason for someone like him to be in a bar so early in the evening, and he seemed to think that my reason for being there was the same as his. He snagged the stool next to mine at the bar and shoved his glass across the counter, asking for “One more, please.” I knew immediately what he was, just like he had known me from across the room, and I silently prepared my polite apologies.
“You’re new around here.” He did not make it a question, but his voice rose slightly at the end, giving me room to reply.
“Only for the w-weekend. I’m leaving t-t-tomorrow.” I sincerely hoped he would understand that I wasn’t trying to trespass on his territory. I glanced to the side, catching a glimpse through the smoky light of an enormous shoulder, and beyond that a head of close-cr
