I Don't Know Water, Only Thirst

[Latin For Dragula]

((Tonya Collins Continued From who was gonna love me? who was gonna touch me?))

Four days, four nights, more hours in between each than she’d ever had time to count before. Tonya ain’t done shit with any of it but make herself look a fool, least that’s how it felt waking up those next few days. Bodies dropped without her. Wherever she went, seemed she was a step behind. Yeah you’d get a creak here. Splashing in a puddle over there. What she thought was somebody cutting through the brush behind her, or damn certain she saw a spark way out in a break from the rain. She picked up the pace, and the world moved just fast enough to make her think she could catch up. Kicked up and up and up until the one thing she’d been worried about most came crashing down on her.

It wasn’t all that different from the first couple nights, and it burned admitting that. Eyes on the prize meant she didn’t have to think about sleep, she closed her eyes and whenever she opened them it was back on the grind. Same as it’d ever been, right? You got your hours in wherever you could; maybe that was new to her classmates, but they could choke catching up to her. The pace didn’t bother her, not when putting one foot in front of the other felt like a struggle. Nah. What fucked her up was that third night. Exhausted, near drowning in the weight of her own clothes, and for what? Ain’t seen a soul, let alone made her mark. Not a goddamn inch closer to home. Nowhere near living up to what she needed.

It was so much easier sleeping without her.

Thought caught her off-guard at a million miles an hour. Like. Okay. That wasn’t on her. Show her a mother who’d never thought like that and she’d show you a fucking liar. Nothing wrong with wanting some peace. She wasn’t fucking up for feeling relief, she’d been down that road enough.

Feeling it here, though.

Dead tired ache in her bones. Not a single alarm set. No stirring bodies or crying out in the dark, only drumming rain. Way her luck was going, nobody to come bother her, and she should have been more worried about that but here where everybody wanted a piece of her she was about to sleep better than she did surrounded by family.

Tonya’s way of doing things was to wake the fuck up. Grab whatever she could and get back out there, not one damn second of rest until she made something happen. Everybody else was out there sleeping. She should be out there making sure they never woke up. The world dialed up the pace another level, and it was up to her to keep up. It’s what she did.

Until she stopped.

Wasn’t sure when she drifted off. It was still dark when she woke up digging her nails into her chest. Her skin was still drenched and she couldn’t tell if was still rain or sweat, cuz her heart felt like it was gonna pop. She curled up shuddering her way through heaving breaths. Eyes burning a hole in the ground cuz she couldn’t blink, whenever she blinked it came back in pieces and she didn’t want to see any more. It was bullshit anyway, shouldn’t waste time thinking about it, push on and it was already fading.

Drops of sweat ran into her eyes.

Burning.

Darkness, and hands like hers scarred, shaking.

Burning.

Burning.

Darkness, and a doorway with a preteen girl trembling around its corner.

Burning.

Burning.

Burning.

Darkness, and big, round, brown eyes spilling over with confusion.

Burning.

Burning.

Burning.

Burning.

Darkness, and trembling lips forming a single word.

Burning.

Burning.

Burning.

Burning.

Burning.

Darkness, and a girl on a grainy screen raising something wet and shiny.

She was just punishing herself now. Tonya didn’t have to close her eyes to hear the whisper.

“For you…”

It sounded so fucking weak. It wasn’t her, she knew who the fuck she was and she would never crack under her little girl’s eyes like that. Tonya was somebody for her to look up to, a rock she could always count on, a shelter, a goddamn fort against any motherfucker that would ever try to hurt her. It didn’t mean a thing. A dream she’d forget by morning, back to business without missing a step.

She’d looked so afraid.

Tonya’s grip on the machete tightened, then jerked away. It was too dark to get a good look but the blade seemed shinier, sharper than it was on the screen. Clean ‘cuz it was still waiting for her to pull her shit together and seal the deal.

Darkness, and the pixelated image of her face twisted. The machete was raised over the head, dripping like you didn't need color to catch.

She didn’t sleep any more that night. Made her feel more like herself.

((Tonya Collins Continued In Le Manoir du Diable))