Trace the Dead Eye

CHAPTER 6

  HELL AGAIN

  I was in the bungalow with Teresa; far removed from ethereal dimensions where time could be stretched for spiritual accommodation and back in the compartmentalized confines of a world where lives were lived between minutes and wasted over years.

  She had made her way to the couch and was whimpering into the cushions as I sat beside her. Jim had long gone. The whole scene between the two of them had disturbed me, as had the scene between Tina and I. But it was their encounter which stayed in my mind. It wasn't so much the violence as the sex, for reasons I wished to avoid.

  "What now?" I asked, not looking at Rollins who was still there, watching, not helping. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of mentioning he might have been distantly right about the parallels. I knew he wouldn’t bring it up.

  "Talk to her."

  "Will she hear?"

  "She won't. But she will."

  “I have nothing to say.”

  “Comfort her.”

  “How?”

  "I'll give you a memory."

  Something like a cool breeze swept by my face. I leaned into it and inhaled. Images played on my closed eyelids and filtered into my mind. I opened my eyes and put my hand on Teresa's head. It passed into her and my body jerked at the touch of her soul--cold, hard, full of fear--but as I spoke the vision it began to soften.

  "Once there was a girl who was never afraid," it began. "She lived in a small house with a big yard that ended at the woods. But the woods weren’t dark or frightening, for she had made trails through them and played there with her friends. One trail she took to school and one led to the toy store which sold her favorite candy necklaces. She loved the woods so much it made her imagine she was an explorer, like her favorite cartoon character, and she dreamed that when she was older she would travel the world.

  “One day she went further than usual and got lost, and couldn't find her way home. It started to get dark and she began to cry. She heard footsteps in the dead leaves behind her and began to run. She tripped, got up, then ran into something that knocked her to the ground. Strong hands picked her up and carried her off as she cried.

  "Then she stopped struggling, for she recognized a familiar smell. It came from the bathroom in her house and was sweet and warm, like a pine tree on a summer's day. It was the smell of her father's face after shaving, and she suddenly realized he was the one holding her. She held him tightly as he carried her through the woods and home.

  "But later, older, when fear was not enough to keep her home, she would wander into the woods not caring if she got lost or if her father came looking for her. Sometimes he didn't.

  "Later still, no longer in the woods, lost for days and weeks, she would keep walking, even now, remembering the times he wouldn't come for her. But he thinks of her often, and waits for the day she'll come home."

  The almost meaningless words to me brought tears running down her face as she slept, and her body shuddered lightly in intervals. I sat back, exhausted. I could sense something had changed. There was an intervention taking place, not only with her but somewhere distant as well. I looked to Rollins who nodded as if reading my thoughts, then he walked out of the bungalow without a word or look back.

  She woke slowly, rubbing her face, then her eyes, sniffling. She stood suddenly and walked into the back bedroom as I followed. She went to the pile of clothes on the floor and began making another on the bed as she sorted. She was packing to leave.

  The front screen slammed and we both jumped. Footsteps and the rough clearing of a throat announced Jim’s arrival, and a moment later he stood at the door.

  “What are you doing?”

  She dropped the panties in her hand, looking almost forlornly at the bed. “Separating laundry. I need some clean clothes.”

  He nodded. “Crying?"

  She wiped her eyes in reply.

  "Babe." He walked over, taking her hand and sitting her down on the bed. "I'm...sorry. I don’t know why I...are you okay?"

  She nodded, looking down.

  “I know it’s been hard. But things are going to change.”

  “How?” She raised her head, wiping her nose and eyes.

  He shook his head impatiently. “Don’t you worry about how. Let’s just say I tapped into some money. Maybe we can get out of this dump soon, go somewhere nice.”

  “Really?” Her face was overly animated with hope, as if to make up for the myriad disappointments of the past.

  “Really. And you won’t have to trick anymore. I got you something." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bag of white powder.

  Teresa straightened, her eyes focused intently on it.

  "It's yours," he said, but pulled it back when she reached for it. "Soon."

  She nodded, watching as he stuffed the bag back into his pants. He put his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, then held her tightly as he spoke: "It'll be better now, I promise. Doesn't daddy always do right by his little girl?"