Categories > TV > Criss Angel Mindfreak > Angel Eyes
The Bus Ride Home
0 reviews"The train ride home always seemed to bore her just a little. A thirty-five minute ride from point A to point B would always make someone tired and weary just a little. It didn't mean that she hate...
0Unrated
Angel Eyes
Chapter I: The Bus Ride Home
The train ride home always seemed to bore her just a little. A thirty-five minute ride from point A to point B would always make someone tired and weary just a little. It didn't mean that she hated riding the bus…in fact, she was just indifferent about it. It was something she had to do everyday in order to get home from college. She didn't expect this ride to be any different from the rest of the other four-hundred rides that she's taken or more than that in the past three years. She leaned back in her green run-down seat, trying to block out from her mind the possible thoughts of whatever had happened or whatever existed on the seat that was beneath her worn, torn-hem jeans. She reached into the pocket of her black sweater vest, grasping her thin black MP3 player only to turn the volume up on her music. Sweet rock music seemed to fill her ears, and she grinned rather victoriously from the sound of one of her favorite songs playing in her ears-"Dead Bodies Everywhere" by Korn.
"I don't understand why you still listen to that shit. You're just like your father."
Yes, well, last time I checked, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, she thought arrogantly to herself. Her mother never approved of her taste in music, nor did she approve of her similarities to her father. She only ignored all the sly, insulting, offensive comments that her mother seemed to crack about her father. Ever since five years ago, she had learned to ignore practically everything that her mother said. It wasn't like her mother ever said anything important anymore.
She opened her eyes and looked out at the streets passing by, the roads that seemed to mix with the falling blur of the rain that pored over on the roving bus. It was so natural to see rain here in the city, it was always gloomy and dark. It was like some depressing masterpiece having been written to life through a rather dismal poem by Edgar Allen Poe. She always saw the world through the eyes of an artist, through the eyes of a tragic, indifferent, yet somehow talented artist. She saw the world, she saw life, through the mind of herself, the "depressed" and "distant" shadow along the walls. She saw the world, she saw life of man…she saw nothing more than a mirror of her own sad and angst life through her own sad, discouraging, miserable gray eyes.
"You have such pretty eyes. It's like looking at the rain. It's so pretty."
I thought the rain was supposed to be heartbreaking, not pretty, she thought to herself, trying to remember the words of her adorable little cousin, Sophia. Little Sophia…pretty Sophie, she had adopted that nickname for her after having read the "Da Vinci Code" when Sophia was only two. It just seemed to stick with the little girl, it seemed to work, and she never called her anything else but Pretty Sophie. That name seemed to fit the little girl best, it seemed to work almost too perfectly.
She pulled out her wallet from the back pocket of her jeans and opened it up to see a picture shielded from her fingertips behind a sheet of plastic. A little girl was smiling back up at her, her long, straight black hair framing her face in an elegant sheet of satin, her pale face seemed to be glowing magnificently with joy and innocence, her green eyes sparkling with the grace that only few women in their family seemed to possess, and only then did they possess it when they turned towards their adulthood. Pretty Sophie…she loved her so.
Sophie was her only treasure. They weren't really related, not even through the slightest bit of blood. Yet Sophia seemed to be the most important thing to her, more important than her own life. After five years ago, there was no question as to who was important anymore, who she saw as a treasure. After five years ago, Sophia seemed to be the only person in her heart at the moment, the only person that she carried around in the torn-at-the-seams leather pouch. Smiling rather darkly, she folded her wallet back up and stuffed it in her back pocket again, thrumming her fingers along the cold silver chain just before hiding it under her black sweater vest.
The bus rolled to a somewhat hesitant stop on Third Avenue, and she sighed as she watched people board off and on the vehicle. She closed her eyes for a moment, tilting her head back in order to relax. She felt the bus give a small growl from within its Hell-like bowels before it started moving again. She knew that it had to make two more stops before it finally came to its final destination-six blocks from her house. She turned her head back to the outside, watching the rain fall as another hard-rock song came blaring to her ears.
It was a moment. Only a moment. The bus had not even started towards to make its left turn onto Saints Street before she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned just to see a man standing over her, his dark hair falling over his dark brown eyes, which seemed to be accentuated by the shadows cast by his locks and baseball cap. He wore upon his person a heavy leather jacket and dark tight jeans that only stretched out to fit his worn boots. Her eyes lingered a little down along his neck to the multiple chains that wrapped tightly around his throat, but they came back up to find his lips, reading them slowly through the pounding music in her ear. She had learned to read lips years ago.
"Would you mind?"
She shook her head, grabbing her black and hot pink checkered backpack that was weighed down by her five ten-pound books from the seat beside her and pulling it into her lap, throwing her gray eyes back out the window beside her-her hand grazed the cold glass softly just out of curiosity.
Time seemed to pass too slowly at the moment, she literally could see the people on the streets walking faster than what the bus was moving. She blinked for only a moment, and realized that the streets were crowded with hesitating cars and vehicles, all trying to avoid slipping and swerving on the soaked asphalt. Just great, now I'm stuck in traffic.
It was probably one of the most awkward moments ever, to be stuck in traffic. However, nothing was more awkward than when she turned around to face the aisle beside her to see the man that was sitting beside her to lean over her in order to look out the window at the crazed and insane traffic plaguing in the streets. She sat back in her seat, a faint blush crawling up her face in a burning sensation as she had never been this close to any man before. The music still pounding in her ears, her gray eyes lingered down along his neck to see a couple of his chains fall out of his jacket. She saw a collection of handcuffs bound together along the chain, a beautiful railed crucifix swinging along the arch of the chain. She eyed the necklace for a moment, having been curious as to what kind of jewelry a man of this appearance would wear, but her eyes came back when she saw his lips move. She quickly read what he was muttering to himself.
"Looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while."
She closed her eyes, feeling her pounding heart rise up to her ears and deafening her music. She held her breath, preventing herself from moving, but she felt something graze her hand lightly, only lightly, to leave a warm sensation across it. She opened her eyes only to see him sit back, completely oblivious to the fact she was there. Why was she acting like such a ridiculous child?
She decided to busy herself by turning the volume up on her music and blaring herself out with the sweet sounds of Within Temptation. She pulled her backpack close to her chest, digging her right hand into it in order to pull out the book she had to read for her class at the college, her Creative Writing class. "Pride and Prejudice," although she had read this book twice before in her lifetime, she somehow was still found in the same situation she had been when she was forced to read it the first time. Her professor had been lecturing for a while about the creative mind that many writers had, and that it would be somehow fascinating if each student in the class chose a work of literature to read and try to interpret what the authors were trying to envision when they wrote the novel. Unfortunately for her, the incredible masterpiece of "Daughters of Eve" was already taken, so she was stuck reading "Pride and Prejudice" for the third time in her life. To her, it was an interesting novel, but it just seemed to go nowhere with her. She enjoyed it, but she didn't love it.
Pretty soon, the world around her seemed to disappear as she delved deeper and deeper into the eighth chapter, feeling a sense of imagination surround her and take hold of her. The music that was blaring into her ears seemed to drown out into nothingness, the aisles and green seats of the bus seemed to blur away, and she was lost within the creative world of Jane Austen. She had even somehow forgotten that this strange man was sitting next to her. He seemed to have disappeared behind a sheet of her long hair. It wasn't until she started feeling the bus move a little quicker under her that she looked up from her book towards the window, and she saw the streets once again rolling by, disappearing into a stately blur of water and lights. She smiled a little at the fact that the bus was at last moving.
She felt something move beside her, and she turned her head only slightly to see that the man was peering at her from the corner of his eyes, but not at her...at her book. She sighed a little, not in the feeling to actually look at him, and she folded her book up close and put it back in her bag. She wasn't bothered by it, but she knew that once the bus stopped at her destination, she wouldn't have time to regather her belongings back into her bag and leave. Once the bus stopped, she would only have a minute or so to depart from it. She brought her bag up to her chest, and felt a sense of shyness swim over her, a feeling that a new girl at school would feel after having been transferred either across town or to another city. She usually spent her bus rides home alone and kept to herself, but for some reason this sensation of crawling out of the darkness and speaking to this stranger kept prodding itself at her frontal lobe from the back, antagonizing and invoking her. However, it seemed that she had waited far too long because she saw the man's mouth move from behind her curtain of hair. She tilted her head back and looked up at him, reading his lips as she did.
"Can I show you something?"
Her heart seemed to pound louder in her head, drowning out the aggravating sounds of her music. As the man slipped his leather jacket off, her hand slipped into her pocket, unnoticed from behind her bag, only to shut off the MP3 player that was blasting into her eardrums. She kept her mouth shut, but was curious as to where this moment was going. He pulled out from his pocket a pack of cards—the classic spades, clovers, hearts, diamonds pack—and he began shuffling them. She knew this was a classic, amateur magic trick, but the child inside herself kept her watching his hands as he shuffled the deck in front of her. She looked back up to his face when he stopped, and that smile crossing his lips was cocky, cunning, and somewhat arrogant.
"Pick a card from the deck," he demanded of her, and she listened closely to his voice…it was somehow familiar. She slipped her fingers between the deck and pulled a face-down card out between her nails. She then brought her eyes back up to his. That arrogant grin was actually starting to look a little more attractive.
"Don't look at it, I want you to hold on to it," he told her, but then he put the deck back into his pocket, but instead pulled out a black permanent marker. He turned his eyes back onto her, and they seemed to lock immediately, as if trying to see into those windows towards her mind and soul.
"I want you to look at that card and memorize it, alright?"
She obeyed and stared down at the card, memorizing the suite, the kind of card that it was. When she was done, she looked back up into his face, and then his smile widened. He started marking something across his left palm with the marker, and as he wrote, she kept the card close to her chest, wondering if he had seen what she had. He continued to mark himself until he closed up his fist, and showed his wrist to her.
"Watch."
She kept her eyes on his wrist, wondering what he was doing. However, she became completely disgusted as she saw something move from his clenched fingers under his skin. It was like there was something hidden under the skin, something that was moving, crawling towards his veins. He closed his eyes, sighing as if from pain, and the object continued to move under his skin, crawling from his veins towards his forearm, and then towards the crook of his arm. She felt her stomach churn painfully as she heard him hiss in pain, but she couldn't take her eyes off of the moving thing under his skin. It stretched and crawled, moving a little slower under the arch, but still clearly visible under the skin. She actually felt a sensation of vomit coming over her, but she choked it down as she watched the object slime under the arch and into the muscle of his bicep. However, it disappeared quickly under the sleeve of his shirt, but she could still make out the silhouette of it under the cloth. She watched the silhouette move disgustingly up his arm and over his shoulder, and then it seemed to disappear completely.
She backed up violently into the window when she heard him gag on something. His face went pale and his eyes seemed to widen as fear coursed through them. He lurched over and began choking, coughing, and gagging. His hands wrapped around his throat, and her heart started pounding rapidly in fear that he might die in front of her. He began choking and a retched sound escaped his lips. It wasn't until she saw something protrude from between his lips that her mind just went completely blank, knowing that he wasn't really choking. He stopped heaving enough to pull the object out of his mouth just to show her that what had come out of his throat was a folded piece of paper. She wrapped her hands around her mouth—now she was the one about to vomit.
He unfolded the paper before her until she could make out a black spade, a "K", and the second spade at the bottom of the paper. It was her card. A King of Spades. Her heart was pounding in her head, her body grew numb, and the man continued to grin at her mischievously.
"Is that your card?"
Oh holy shit! Her eyes tilted a little to the back of her head, but she shook her head awake, knowing now was not the time to faint from surprise and horror. He continued to watch her, as if waiting for her to succumb to those sensations of fear and shock that seemed to be surging through her limbs. She bit her lip, trying to regain that composure she at one time had, but she couldn't get over her shock of it. She could only nod in submission, handing him his card, watching that clever grin cross his face. He put the card in his pocket, and he looked out the window at the traffic passing by. She turned her head away, feeling ill after that trick, and it seemed like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders—and mind—when the bus rolled to its last stop with her on it. Casting the stranger a last look before she stood up, swung her bag over her shoulder—the heavy books hit her shoulder blades violently—and then walked through the aisle towards the bus' steps. Waving goodbye to the driver, she hopped onto the still and solid ground and heard the doors close behind her. For some unknown reason, she turned back to the bus only to see it drive past her, but she caught a glimpse of the man staring out the window at her.
The light gleamed off of something he held in his hand…a pendant of some kind, an A in a circle. It gleamed off of the dim light of the day before it disappeared and the bus rolled away down the corner. She turned from the bus stop and walked down the opposite direction of the street, knowing that she was going to endure sick and gross nightmares tonight.
Chapter I: The Bus Ride Home
The train ride home always seemed to bore her just a little. A thirty-five minute ride from point A to point B would always make someone tired and weary just a little. It didn't mean that she hated riding the bus…in fact, she was just indifferent about it. It was something she had to do everyday in order to get home from college. She didn't expect this ride to be any different from the rest of the other four-hundred rides that she's taken or more than that in the past three years. She leaned back in her green run-down seat, trying to block out from her mind the possible thoughts of whatever had happened or whatever existed on the seat that was beneath her worn, torn-hem jeans. She reached into the pocket of her black sweater vest, grasping her thin black MP3 player only to turn the volume up on her music. Sweet rock music seemed to fill her ears, and she grinned rather victoriously from the sound of one of her favorite songs playing in her ears-"Dead Bodies Everywhere" by Korn.
"I don't understand why you still listen to that shit. You're just like your father."
Yes, well, last time I checked, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, she thought arrogantly to herself. Her mother never approved of her taste in music, nor did she approve of her similarities to her father. She only ignored all the sly, insulting, offensive comments that her mother seemed to crack about her father. Ever since five years ago, she had learned to ignore practically everything that her mother said. It wasn't like her mother ever said anything important anymore.
She opened her eyes and looked out at the streets passing by, the roads that seemed to mix with the falling blur of the rain that pored over on the roving bus. It was so natural to see rain here in the city, it was always gloomy and dark. It was like some depressing masterpiece having been written to life through a rather dismal poem by Edgar Allen Poe. She always saw the world through the eyes of an artist, through the eyes of a tragic, indifferent, yet somehow talented artist. She saw the world, she saw life, through the mind of herself, the "depressed" and "distant" shadow along the walls. She saw the world, she saw life of man…she saw nothing more than a mirror of her own sad and angst life through her own sad, discouraging, miserable gray eyes.
"You have such pretty eyes. It's like looking at the rain. It's so pretty."
I thought the rain was supposed to be heartbreaking, not pretty, she thought to herself, trying to remember the words of her adorable little cousin, Sophia. Little Sophia…pretty Sophie, she had adopted that nickname for her after having read the "Da Vinci Code" when Sophia was only two. It just seemed to stick with the little girl, it seemed to work, and she never called her anything else but Pretty Sophie. That name seemed to fit the little girl best, it seemed to work almost too perfectly.
She pulled out her wallet from the back pocket of her jeans and opened it up to see a picture shielded from her fingertips behind a sheet of plastic. A little girl was smiling back up at her, her long, straight black hair framing her face in an elegant sheet of satin, her pale face seemed to be glowing magnificently with joy and innocence, her green eyes sparkling with the grace that only few women in their family seemed to possess, and only then did they possess it when they turned towards their adulthood. Pretty Sophie…she loved her so.
Sophie was her only treasure. They weren't really related, not even through the slightest bit of blood. Yet Sophia seemed to be the most important thing to her, more important than her own life. After five years ago, there was no question as to who was important anymore, who she saw as a treasure. After five years ago, Sophia seemed to be the only person in her heart at the moment, the only person that she carried around in the torn-at-the-seams leather pouch. Smiling rather darkly, she folded her wallet back up and stuffed it in her back pocket again, thrumming her fingers along the cold silver chain just before hiding it under her black sweater vest.
The bus rolled to a somewhat hesitant stop on Third Avenue, and she sighed as she watched people board off and on the vehicle. She closed her eyes for a moment, tilting her head back in order to relax. She felt the bus give a small growl from within its Hell-like bowels before it started moving again. She knew that it had to make two more stops before it finally came to its final destination-six blocks from her house. She turned her head back to the outside, watching the rain fall as another hard-rock song came blaring to her ears.
It was a moment. Only a moment. The bus had not even started towards to make its left turn onto Saints Street before she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned just to see a man standing over her, his dark hair falling over his dark brown eyes, which seemed to be accentuated by the shadows cast by his locks and baseball cap. He wore upon his person a heavy leather jacket and dark tight jeans that only stretched out to fit his worn boots. Her eyes lingered a little down along his neck to the multiple chains that wrapped tightly around his throat, but they came back up to find his lips, reading them slowly through the pounding music in her ear. She had learned to read lips years ago.
"Would you mind?"
She shook her head, grabbing her black and hot pink checkered backpack that was weighed down by her five ten-pound books from the seat beside her and pulling it into her lap, throwing her gray eyes back out the window beside her-her hand grazed the cold glass softly just out of curiosity.
Time seemed to pass too slowly at the moment, she literally could see the people on the streets walking faster than what the bus was moving. She blinked for only a moment, and realized that the streets were crowded with hesitating cars and vehicles, all trying to avoid slipping and swerving on the soaked asphalt. Just great, now I'm stuck in traffic.
It was probably one of the most awkward moments ever, to be stuck in traffic. However, nothing was more awkward than when she turned around to face the aisle beside her to see the man that was sitting beside her to lean over her in order to look out the window at the crazed and insane traffic plaguing in the streets. She sat back in her seat, a faint blush crawling up her face in a burning sensation as she had never been this close to any man before. The music still pounding in her ears, her gray eyes lingered down along his neck to see a couple of his chains fall out of his jacket. She saw a collection of handcuffs bound together along the chain, a beautiful railed crucifix swinging along the arch of the chain. She eyed the necklace for a moment, having been curious as to what kind of jewelry a man of this appearance would wear, but her eyes came back when she saw his lips move. She quickly read what he was muttering to himself.
"Looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while."
She closed her eyes, feeling her pounding heart rise up to her ears and deafening her music. She held her breath, preventing herself from moving, but she felt something graze her hand lightly, only lightly, to leave a warm sensation across it. She opened her eyes only to see him sit back, completely oblivious to the fact she was there. Why was she acting like such a ridiculous child?
She decided to busy herself by turning the volume up on her music and blaring herself out with the sweet sounds of Within Temptation. She pulled her backpack close to her chest, digging her right hand into it in order to pull out the book she had to read for her class at the college, her Creative Writing class. "Pride and Prejudice," although she had read this book twice before in her lifetime, she somehow was still found in the same situation she had been when she was forced to read it the first time. Her professor had been lecturing for a while about the creative mind that many writers had, and that it would be somehow fascinating if each student in the class chose a work of literature to read and try to interpret what the authors were trying to envision when they wrote the novel. Unfortunately for her, the incredible masterpiece of "Daughters of Eve" was already taken, so she was stuck reading "Pride and Prejudice" for the third time in her life. To her, it was an interesting novel, but it just seemed to go nowhere with her. She enjoyed it, but she didn't love it.
Pretty soon, the world around her seemed to disappear as she delved deeper and deeper into the eighth chapter, feeling a sense of imagination surround her and take hold of her. The music that was blaring into her ears seemed to drown out into nothingness, the aisles and green seats of the bus seemed to blur away, and she was lost within the creative world of Jane Austen. She had even somehow forgotten that this strange man was sitting next to her. He seemed to have disappeared behind a sheet of her long hair. It wasn't until she started feeling the bus move a little quicker under her that she looked up from her book towards the window, and she saw the streets once again rolling by, disappearing into a stately blur of water and lights. She smiled a little at the fact that the bus was at last moving.
She felt something move beside her, and she turned her head only slightly to see that the man was peering at her from the corner of his eyes, but not at her...at her book. She sighed a little, not in the feeling to actually look at him, and she folded her book up close and put it back in her bag. She wasn't bothered by it, but she knew that once the bus stopped at her destination, she wouldn't have time to regather her belongings back into her bag and leave. Once the bus stopped, she would only have a minute or so to depart from it. She brought her bag up to her chest, and felt a sense of shyness swim over her, a feeling that a new girl at school would feel after having been transferred either across town or to another city. She usually spent her bus rides home alone and kept to herself, but for some reason this sensation of crawling out of the darkness and speaking to this stranger kept prodding itself at her frontal lobe from the back, antagonizing and invoking her. However, it seemed that she had waited far too long because she saw the man's mouth move from behind her curtain of hair. She tilted her head back and looked up at him, reading his lips as she did.
"Can I show you something?"
Her heart seemed to pound louder in her head, drowning out the aggravating sounds of her music. As the man slipped his leather jacket off, her hand slipped into her pocket, unnoticed from behind her bag, only to shut off the MP3 player that was blasting into her eardrums. She kept her mouth shut, but was curious as to where this moment was going. He pulled out from his pocket a pack of cards—the classic spades, clovers, hearts, diamonds pack—and he began shuffling them. She knew this was a classic, amateur magic trick, but the child inside herself kept her watching his hands as he shuffled the deck in front of her. She looked back up to his face when he stopped, and that smile crossing his lips was cocky, cunning, and somewhat arrogant.
"Pick a card from the deck," he demanded of her, and she listened closely to his voice…it was somehow familiar. She slipped her fingers between the deck and pulled a face-down card out between her nails. She then brought her eyes back up to his. That arrogant grin was actually starting to look a little more attractive.
"Don't look at it, I want you to hold on to it," he told her, but then he put the deck back into his pocket, but instead pulled out a black permanent marker. He turned his eyes back onto her, and they seemed to lock immediately, as if trying to see into those windows towards her mind and soul.
"I want you to look at that card and memorize it, alright?"
She obeyed and stared down at the card, memorizing the suite, the kind of card that it was. When she was done, she looked back up into his face, and then his smile widened. He started marking something across his left palm with the marker, and as he wrote, she kept the card close to her chest, wondering if he had seen what she had. He continued to mark himself until he closed up his fist, and showed his wrist to her.
"Watch."
She kept her eyes on his wrist, wondering what he was doing. However, she became completely disgusted as she saw something move from his clenched fingers under his skin. It was like there was something hidden under the skin, something that was moving, crawling towards his veins. He closed his eyes, sighing as if from pain, and the object continued to move under his skin, crawling from his veins towards his forearm, and then towards the crook of his arm. She felt her stomach churn painfully as she heard him hiss in pain, but she couldn't take her eyes off of the moving thing under his skin. It stretched and crawled, moving a little slower under the arch, but still clearly visible under the skin. She actually felt a sensation of vomit coming over her, but she choked it down as she watched the object slime under the arch and into the muscle of his bicep. However, it disappeared quickly under the sleeve of his shirt, but she could still make out the silhouette of it under the cloth. She watched the silhouette move disgustingly up his arm and over his shoulder, and then it seemed to disappear completely.
She backed up violently into the window when she heard him gag on something. His face went pale and his eyes seemed to widen as fear coursed through them. He lurched over and began choking, coughing, and gagging. His hands wrapped around his throat, and her heart started pounding rapidly in fear that he might die in front of her. He began choking and a retched sound escaped his lips. It wasn't until she saw something protrude from between his lips that her mind just went completely blank, knowing that he wasn't really choking. He stopped heaving enough to pull the object out of his mouth just to show her that what had come out of his throat was a folded piece of paper. She wrapped her hands around her mouth—now she was the one about to vomit.
He unfolded the paper before her until she could make out a black spade, a "K", and the second spade at the bottom of the paper. It was her card. A King of Spades. Her heart was pounding in her head, her body grew numb, and the man continued to grin at her mischievously.
"Is that your card?"
Oh holy shit! Her eyes tilted a little to the back of her head, but she shook her head awake, knowing now was not the time to faint from surprise and horror. He continued to watch her, as if waiting for her to succumb to those sensations of fear and shock that seemed to be surging through her limbs. She bit her lip, trying to regain that composure she at one time had, but she couldn't get over her shock of it. She could only nod in submission, handing him his card, watching that clever grin cross his face. He put the card in his pocket, and he looked out the window at the traffic passing by. She turned her head away, feeling ill after that trick, and it seemed like a weight had been lifted off of her shoulders—and mind—when the bus rolled to its last stop with her on it. Casting the stranger a last look before she stood up, swung her bag over her shoulder—the heavy books hit her shoulder blades violently—and then walked through the aisle towards the bus' steps. Waving goodbye to the driver, she hopped onto the still and solid ground and heard the doors close behind her. For some unknown reason, she turned back to the bus only to see it drive past her, but she caught a glimpse of the man staring out the window at her.
The light gleamed off of something he held in his hand…a pendant of some kind, an A in a circle. It gleamed off of the dim light of the day before it disappeared and the bus rolled away down the corner. She turned from the bus stop and walked down the opposite direction of the street, knowing that she was going to endure sick and gross nightmares tonight.
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