Girl with all the Pain

by Michael Herman

  “You are a cruel man, Bull. You know that,” Zed chides, then extends his hand. “Let me try.”

  Twizzle intervenes. “I think you boys have done enough damage for today,” she scolds, covering the fob with her hand.

  Rafa pulls Twizzle to him and nuzzles her cheek. “You want to drive or should I?”

  “This is Chile. Men drive, women ride.”

  “When in Rome,” Rafa says.

  He glances towards Zed and Forbes and starts to tell them that he’ll see them back at the hotel, when a familiar buzzing begins to fill the air around him. Quickly, it builds to the crescendo of a second psychic scream that blots out everything around him. When it ends, he pulls away from Twizzle, who wears a look of concern.

  Slowly shaking her head, she says gently, “Frightening.” When she looks over to Zed and Forbes she sees that Forbes is bent over with his eyes shut, grimacing. Alarmed, she goes to him, bends down and wraps her arm around his shoulder.

  “Forbes? It was bad for you?”

  Forbes is breathing heavily. As if he were nauseated and about to regurgitate, drool drips from his mouth. After a moment, he rights himself and wipes his lips with his sleeve. Twizzle, Zed, and Rafa all stare at him.

  “She’s so vulnerable,” Forbes tells them.

  “She? You can tell it’s a she?” Twizzle asks.

  Forbes nods. “Small, very small. She’s just a child. Lonely and scared. Wants to be with friends, but doesn’t feel safe with anyone. Always betrayed.”

  “Where?” Zed asks. “You can tell where it’s coming from? She’s nearby?”

  Forbes shakes his head. “No idea. I see a mountain range, but it could be any mountain range. And a red car. And her dolls. And some kind of...she has a friend; a guy that people are afraid of, but he’s not around. Maybe it’s her protector. Can’t tell.”

  “You feel her right now?” Zed asks.

  “No. Just a fleeting glance at the moment of the scream. An angry face over hers. Big yellow gloves on her throat cutting off her air. Then serenity as if it were all suddenly gone.”

  “You think you’re picking up her dreams?”

  “No. This was no dream. She was in trouble and then she wasn’t.”

  “You sense any of this in the last scream?”

  “The last one was like a door had just opened. This was stepping through that door.”

  “You think she feels you?”

  Forbes shrugs and shakes his head. Of all the family, Forbes is the only one who can read a person simply by touching them. His sensitivity to normal people is unparalleled. And his sensitivity to a person with psychic sensitivity is off the charts. So it is no surprise to anyone that he is the most affected by the scream.

  Twizzle has her phone out and is talking to Sonnet. After a minute, she hangs up. “They got the scream, but Forbes is more in tune with the screamer than they are. The twin views it as an unwanted distraction. She’s focused on her search.”

  “And you’re getting nothing right now, Forbes. Is that correct?” Twizzle asks.

  “Nada.”

  Chapter 9

  Day 1

  Santiago, Chile

  Iglesia Santa Filomena is a hidden treasure concealed on three sides by surrounding two-, three-, and four-story buildings in the Barrio Patronato district. Only its cross-capped towering spire, peeking above the rooflines of buildings around it, offers a clue to the existence of the historic church. Fronting on Sta. Filomena, its European gothic style façade is set back behind an ornate wall of old wrought iron and masonry pilasters rising two and a half people high. The low mountains in the background and a couple of high-rises nearby are all that stand taller than its Catholic gothic spire.

  Ignoring a man wearing a striped shirt leaning on a wall, and passing a man kneeling at a car jacked up in the street, Isabel walks through the church’s open gates. Moving through the entry courtyard, she comes to the classically ornate open front doors. Pausing, she looks behind her, makes sure that she has not been followed, and then enters the church foyer, where she finds herself between two rows of colorful flower arrangements sprouting unlit white candles. They march along the edges of the center aisle and continue to the rear of the wooden benches that accommodate the congregation. Beyond the benches, midway to the front, an elderly priest and a middle-aged nun engage in conversation. No one else is in the church.

  Isabel’s light steps are lost in the tall multistory interior as she walks down the formal center aisle and takes a seat a few benches back from them to wait quietly. While they converse, she silently takes in the elaborately decorated interior bathed in warm artificial lighting. The ornate church with its round columns that support carved arches promenading towards the pulpit feels like home to her. Inside this house of worship, she always feels safe.

  When the priest and nun finish, the nun turns in Isabel’s direction, and her face lights up with surprise that blossoms into a smile. Isabel gives the nun a meek wave and smiles back. The nun walks to Isabel and seats herself in the pew directly in front of her.

  A white form-fitting-coif and a stiff crown-band frame the nun’s plain face under the traditional black veil that covers the top, sides, and back of her head. Below, a white guimpe drops down over her chest. A silver crucifix on a black cord around her neck drapes over the guimpe. The black tunic under her garments is cinched at the waist with a black cord. Beneath all the rigorous religious trappings, Sister Mary’s kind face is a giveaway to her humanity. There is nothing judgmental about her gaze. If anything, her demeanor invites open and friendly discourse. Because of this, Isabel has always gravitated to Sister Mary.

  “Good afternoon, Sister Mary,” Isabel says politely in Spanish.

  “My love, it is very good to see you. I missed you. Are you doing well?” She reaches out and strokes Isabel’s dark long hair.

  Isabel nods demurely, “Yes, Sister Mary.”

  “Are the Lopezes treating you well?”

  Isabel drops her eyes to the ground.

  Isabel’s reaction is an immediate concern for Sister Mary. “You are still living with them, aren’t you?”

  Isabel remains mute.

  Sister Mary takes a deep breath. She knows what this means. “Isabel,” she says in disappointment. “You ran away, didn’t you?”

  Isabel nods her head so slightly that Sister Mary almost doesn’t catch it.

  “You had problems with their boys?”

  Isabel looks up into Sister Mary’s eyes with tears of regret.

  Touched by Isabel’s distraught face, Sister Mary almost begins to cry herself. She reaches out to Isabel, pulls her to her breast and embraces her. “Oh, my child, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. You should have come to me first before you ran away. Maybe I could have done something.” Inside she is furious with the Lopezes. When she asked them two days ago how things were with Isabel, they lied and told her all was well. It was inexcusable. Now she will have to find another couple to take Isabel in.

  “Sister Mary?”

  Sister Mary releases Isabel and gives her a questioning look. “Yes, child?”

  “Do I have a guardian angel?”

  The question catches her by surprise and she hesitates because, for as long as Sister Mary has known Isabel, Isabel’s life has been one of hardship and rejection. With no known parents, and drifting from the street to institutional care to foster family and back to the street again and again, Isabel’s welfare has been problematic. Complicating matters is Isabel’s withdrawal from people in general. It doesn’t help. She never seems able to connect with those around her. Maybe Isabel’s problems are too much for a guardian angel.

  “Of course you do, Isabel. Every child when they are born receives a guardian angel.”

  “Why do we get a guardian angel?”

  “Because God wills the salvation of all people. They bring the person they watch over into contact with occasions of grace, like when you were brought to our attention. That was your guardian angel wa
tching over you.”

  Isabel frowns considering this, then brightens and says, “When you and I became friends, that was my guardian angel at work?”

  Sister Mary nods. “Your guardian angel was trying to help you. Now I have to live up to your guardian angel’s expectations and do a better job of getting you a home. I’m sorry the Lopez family didn’t work out.” Her eyes slide over Isabel’s dress. “Did Mrs. Lopez give you that nice dress?” The fact that it’s clean tells her that her break from the Lopez family must have been recent. Maybe she can mend things.

  “No. Mrs. Diaz gave it to me today. She said her daughter used to wear it.”

  “That was very nice of her. She’s a good woman, comes to church every Sunday.” Unlike her drunken husband, who beats her and makes her life hell. She would have tried placing Isabel with Mrs. Diaz, but for the worthless husband.

  “How long has it been since you stayed with the Lopez family?”

  Isabel looks down and squirms uncomfortably.

  “A week?”

  Isabel shakes her head.

  “Many weeks?”

  Isabel nods.

  Sister Mary sighs in frustration. She doesn’t want to imagine what Isabel has been doing since she ran away, or where she’s been living, but feels compelled to ask anyway. “Were you okay on your own? Did you find food and a place to sleep?”

  Isabel nods “yes.”

  “Did anyone try to hurt you?” This was Sister Mary’s real concern. Sexual predators seemed to have a nose for finding small runaways–female and male.

  Isabel nods very slowly then looks up with big eyes and asks, “Do guardian angels make bad people disappear?”

  So this is what the guardian angel question was all about, Sister Mary thinks. What sort of incident prompted the query? Was Isabel hurt? Who was the bad person?

  “Did someone bad do something that hurt you?”

  Isabel nods.

  “And you want that bad person to go away.”

  Isabel shakes her head “no.”

  Sister Mary is confused. “You don’t want the bad person to go away?”

  “No. I mean I think my guardian angel made the bad people disappear.”

  Sister Mary is very interested now and feels compelled to learn more.

  “What happened, child?”

  Isabel tells her about the first boy slapping and hitting her, and her being surrounded by his friends. She tells about the count to 30, which Sister Mary has heard about before, but never really understood because it sounded like so much nonsense. But when Isabel gets to the part that brought her humiliation, Isabel stumbles and doesn’t know how to explain.

  Sister Mary leans back and appraises Isabel for a moment, trying to understand where this is leading.

  “Isabel, did you have your first period? The boy touched you there?”

  Isabel responds with an almost inaudible, “Yes.”

  “Having your period is nothing to be ashamed of.” She is surprised that someone as young as Isabel has reached that stage in her life.

  “What happened next?” she asks, almost not wanting to hear the answer.

  “He disappeared.”

  Sister Mary blinks in confusion.

  “He ran away?”

  “No. They all disappeared. I think my guardian angel made them disappear.”

  Trying to make sense of the confusing story, Sister Mary says, “This was a dream you were having and you woke up?”

  “No. They hurt me, chased me to the roof, hurt me again and one boy squeezed me so hard I closed my eyes and screamed. And when I opened them, the boys were gone.”

  Sister Mary feels like she is finally beginning to understand.

  “Your screaming scared them away. They didn’t want to get caught hurting you. Maybe your scream was your guardian angel helping you tell them to leave you alone.”

  “You mean my scream was my guardian angel speaking to them?”

  “In a way, maybe. It made the boys run away.”

  “They didn’t run away. They just disappeared just like the other boys that were choking me. My guardian angel made them disappear.” She drops her gaze to the floor. “But I think my guardian angel made a mistake. He didn’t know how to put them in the car.”

  “Car?”

  “My guardian angel made them die in a car.”

  “The boys that were choking you? You screamed and they ran away into a car and got in an accident?”

  “No. They just died in a car. They were put into it wrong. I think my guardian angel doesn’t know about cars.”

  Sister Mary is now completely confused. None of what Isabel is saying makes sense, which is surprising given that Isabel normally comes across as a bright girl. Maybe she is still traumatized by the boys hurting her, and this is the cause of her disjointed explanation.

  Sister Mary is about to ask for clarification when Isabel blurts out, “Why didn’t my guardian angel help me the other times the boys hurt me? Why did my guardian angel wait until now? Did I not deserve help before?”

  “No, Isabel, you have always deserved help. Sometimes guardian angels just...” And she really has no answer. In fact, she wondered herself why Isabel’s guardian angel didn’t help more often. And in the greater scheme of things, why guardian angels don’t help all the homeless children more often. It truly tests her faith.

  “Isabel, would you stay with me for a few days until I can find someplace better for you to live?” It was against rules, but rules be damned. If God didn’t want her to help homeless children like Isabel, then He shouldn’t allow them to be homeless in the first place. She would sneak Isabel into her small church-supplied apartment and work from there.

  For Isabel, this was the divine light of heaven smiling down on her. Sister Mary was a Saint Extraordinaire, in her mind. Of course, she would love to stay with Sister Mary, who had always been so kind to her, even if it was only for a short time. Her joy is so great that tears flood her eyes when she launches herself into Sister Mary, hugging and thanking her.

  Tonight will be the best sleep ever for Isabel, sharing a room that is safe and warm and pretty with Sister Mary. Maybe her guardian angel is still coming through for her.

  Chapter 10

  Day 1

  Santiago, Chile

  Making a right turn in his truck, Zed can’t help but notice Forbes rubbing his temples and frowning with his eyes half closed.

  “Still feeling the effects of the scream? Must have been pretty bad for you.”

  Forbes manages only a grunt in response.

  “Try this, lean back, close your eyes, cross your legs, place your hands on your knees, make an ‘O’ shape with your thumb and forefinger and chant, ‘Ommmmmmm’.”

  Forbes widens his left eye and shoots eye daggers at Zed. “Do you ever let up, funny man?”

  Zed stifles his grin, “Sorry. I know a read can be tough for you. Is this the first time it’s ever happened without actually being in contact with the object of your read? Your sensitivity must be at its peak right now.”

  Forbes leans back, shuts his eye, and takes a few deep breaths. After a moment he says, “You know, closing my eyes and relaxing actually helps.”

  Zed suppresses a joking retort and glances over to Forbes, who wears a face of distress.

  “You still feel sick to your stomach?”

  “Yeah, and I can’t shake the feeling of terror. And the loneliness. God, she must have some kind of awful life.”

  “Still no sense of where she is? North? South? East? West?”

  Forbes settles deeper into the seat. “Any way we can pick up a freeway from here? Something without all the stops and starts? My head is killing me and my stomach would appreciate a smooth ride.”

  “Autopista Central it is,” Zed says. He makes a left at the first light and drives carefully, trying to jar his Uncle as little as possible. Ten minutes later, after driving up the on-ramp, they head north towards their hotel on the smooth surfaced six-lane divide
d highway with flowing traffic on both sides.

  “Any better?” Zed asks.

  “Yeah. Much better.”

  “Want me to try and find something soothing on the radio?”

  “No. Silence is fine. Thanks.”

  Zed looks over to Forbes, who appears lifeless and ashen-faced. It’s worrisome. He’s seen his uncle like this only a few times in the past, when he was sick from virus or flu. Being so affected by someone so physically removed has the potential for serious harm. If the girl’s experiences can be this easily passed on to Forbes, what happens if something dire happens to her; like death? This is an unhealthy psychic linkage.

  Miles down the road, Forbes finally stirs, clears his throat, opens his eyes and sits up.

  “Zed, take the next exit. Go east.”

  “What? You don’t want to go to the hotel?”

  “Not yet. I’ve got a feeling. The screamer, she’s in that direction.”

  “You serious? You think you can find her?”

  “Just give it a shot.” He leans back and closes his eyes again.

  “You gonna start chanting ‘ommmm’ now?”

  Softly–very softly–Forbes says, “Shut up and drive, Zed.”

  Zed exits onto a surface street and heads towards the eastern distant snowcapped mountains. He wonders how this will end. If they find her, what will they do with her? Will they be able to relieve her of her problems and thus relieve Forbes of his suffering? It seems unlikely.

  After about fifteen minutes, Forbes says without opening his eyes, “Head north again.”

  Zed makes a left at the first light and drives north, watching for little girls on the sidewalks, wondering if any of them could be the one. When they cross over Mapocho River, Forbes opens his eyes, sits up and looks out the windshield.

  “There, that huge hill ahead, that’s part of what she sees, it looks down on her.”

  Zed glances at the truck’s console display. “GPS says the Sanctuary of the Immaculate Conception is up there.”

  “Yeah, maybe she’s there. I’ve got a sense of a huge church. Drive there. Even if she’s not there, maybe I can get a feel for where she is from up there. Give us a direction to go on.”