While the Night Still Hides the Withering Dawn

[Gundham]

((Cecilia Moreno continued from Inertia))

It had started out small. Most bad things do. It was just a twinge of pain, easily mistakeable as a side-effect of crouching in an awkward position for too long. But then it had spread. Aches and pains, stinging and lancing through her all over. Pain in places she hadn’t even known about, like every single one of her internal organs was throwing a tantrum and lashing out, striking everything around it.

She’d toughed it out for as long as she could, trying not to let the pain show as they left the tall boy’s body behind and headed back out into the dunes. Before long they’d found themselves back in the vicinity of the building where she’d seen the explosion. Neither of them was particularly enthused by the prospect of striking out again, and by mutual agreement they’d decided to shelter here at the edge of the parking lot.

Now it was night. Cecilia was wide awake, unable to sleep despite her pain and exhaustion. Her mind was too active, too full of thoughts and fears to give her rest. Eventually she sat up on her sleeping bag, and hugged her knees to keep warm. Asphalt and pebbles and building rubble poked up through the bag and into her hindquarters. They were everywhere in the parking lot, impossible to avoid no matter how many times she shifted. But that discomfort was nothing compared to the thick, weighty silence between her and Mattie. One of them was going to have to break it eventually.

"Mattie...” she said, looking away. “Today... I do not mean to hurt you."

"You're fine. No permanent damage, anyways." Mattie said this with a wry smile which lasted for a single second, nothing more. He was wrapped up in his own sleeping bag, eyes on the night sky.

Cecilia silently wondered about that last statement. There were, she knew, a lot of different kinds of damage that a person could take. Very few of them were visible, even to the person who suffered them. It seemed hard to believe that someone with a gift like that, someone who could actually see things happen, wouldn’t be haunted by it, and wouldn’t carry it forward with them. After a moment or two, she asked, “How does it work? Your gift? How you make yourself go back?”

Mattie stayed silent for a couple moments, pensive, staring at the night sky. "You just... it's like moving a finger. I just conjure up a specific memory, wish it all back, and then I'm back. It's easy."

Conjure was a word she didn’t know. But it was easy enough to guess what he meant. She looked out at the desert. The dunes and shrubs seemed to fade away into the dark. Even though it had only been three days, the boundaries of their little world were so absolute, so final that it was hard to believe that the rest of the world was still out there somewhere. "I wish I had your gift. There are many things I wish I do different."

Anyways, he asked, facing the night sky, "...What things? What, uh, what hurt you? If you don't mind me asking?"

The directness of the question surprised her. She hugged herself tighter, and buried her chin into her knees, eyes downcast.

"In the elección... Your mama, your papa. They vote?"

"My dad, yeah. Dunno about my mom. She's not around. Why?"

Cecilia ignored the question, pressing him. "Your papa. Who he votes for?"

"The Dem," he replied. "He's always voted for them."

Mattie looked at her. A number of questions ran through his mind, his mouth opening and closing, but he waited for her to reply.

She nodded. Thought hard about what to say next, her mouth occasionally twitching while the thoughts in her head wrestled to come out. "…Soy Mexicana," was all she managed to say, in voice that was barely more than a whisper.

"Oh."

His eyes widen.

"Oh shit. Were you...?"

Cecilia buried her face into her knees as Mattie’s voice trailed off, managing only a small, weak nod in response to his question.

Mattie crawled out of his sleeping bag, going up to her and wrapping his arms around her. "I'm so sorry."

Something inside her, some deep inner wall, cracked and began to crumble. A few tears trickled out, and she tried to squeeze her eyes shut and contain them, tried to tell herself not to feel, to hide her pain away where no one would see it. But it hurt, it hurt so badly, and the pain was bursting inside of her and tearing her to pieces, and his words were cracking her open and it was coming out in a great roaring torrent of anguish. She clung onto him, as though he was the only thing keeping her from getting washed away; the tears flowed, and so did the words, shaky and faltering, out of her gasping mouth before her brain could snatch them and stuff them back down into the darkness. "Mi Papa... mi Mama... they t-take them. For long time, I am in the prison. And n-now I am out, but still I cannot see them... t-tres años I d-don't see them..."

She paused, choking up, but the words still continued to come. “Mi Papa, he is g-good man. Everybody like him. Mi Mama, she is good. Always she in church, to p-pray. But I hear your M-M-Mister K-K-King, he say we are b-bad, w-we are thief. All people saying it, M-Mexicanos bad, we are thief. Everybody hate us. But, mi familia, we are not bad… We do not steal... We don't want to hurt anyone… we only want to live."

"Shhh, shhh." Mattie ever so slightly tightened his embrace, stroking the back of her shoulders."You're good people, Cecilia," he cooed. "You're good people."

And so they stayed for a while, the two of them remaining in that embrace in the ever-dimming night.

Eventually, Mattie let go of her, and he spoke.

"The first time I told you your name, you were shocked. Said you didn't expect anyone to know it. Was... was that why?"

Cecilia nodded, sniffling as she curled up again. "Half of your country… they vote for the Mister King. They see what he do to us, they see how we hurt, and they cheer for him. So many people. So always, I am afraid. I think, if people know me, it is not safe. What if they are with the Mister King? What if they hate? If they know I am Mexican, they will call the federales. They will come, take me back to the jail. So always, I am quiet. Always scared. I don't talk to anyone. And now we are here, I think... nobody will know me. Nobody will help. Nobody caring if I die. I think... I do not matter."

"You matter," he replied immediately.

"I want you to know that right away, you matter. I came with you because you mattered, to me, you mattered. And- and it's fucking sick that that happened to you. And that this is happening to us," he said, gesturing vaguely around them.

"You... You matter to me also, Mattie. You are good person."

Cecilia looked away, out at the desert. "I wish… I know you before. I think... you would be good amigo." She smiles sadly. “If ever you use your gift, and you are at school... please say hello to me. I know it will not change, but... it is nice to think in another time, we can be happy. Si?"

Mattie smiles, although she can't see him.

"Yeah."

((Cecilia Moreno continued in There We Will Be, Like An Old Enemy))