Entry #11

Adan,


What a wretched night, a sleepless, black, and terrible set of hours I wish I could have back to try again, ending a day I wish I had never started. My mind and heart were so centered around my sister, I swear, I thought I saw her. I heard the latch of my door move. Dusty light from the corridor seeped in like wax rolling down a candle, followed by the shrill hiss of my door’s hinges, that light shrinking thinner and thinner until it was just an off-yellow sliver. At first, I thought it a draught from the corridor. The mission had a tendency to heave these sighs that groaned lonely along the walls. I pushed up, squinted. A shape outside my door, shoulders hunched, breath shallow, short.

“… Carmen?”

A gasp, my door slammed, and I heard footsteps retreating down the hall, the sound reminding me of when father‘s hounds would run through the kitchen; their nails clicking and clicking across the tiles. Perhaps I would not still be writing about it this morning, when I should be eating the breakfast losing its heat in front of me. I would be, Adan, I would, but I had locked my door, and I am the only one with the key.

My thoughts were cut short. Doctor Gil took a seat beside me. Only bread and coffee would sustain him this morning. Usually he took fruit and eggs, but I wondered if he had even the strength to chew such morsels over. He looked so weak and tired. His face was ashen, unexcited. There were bags under his eyes, whose gaze seemed to peer into the cracks of the wall in front of us. His purpose was indeed to sit next to me, but for the moment he seemed in a daze. Then, the tiniest smile tugged at the corners of his thin lips. He looked at me.

“I apologize. Good morning, Hermana Nieve. For a moment I forgot where I was.”

“A late night, Doctor?”

“Why, yes,” he sighed. “All night, as a matter of fact.”

I was afraid to hear his result. “How is she?”

“She has been suffering from lack of meals and water. You saw her last night.”

“Yes,” I shivered.

“I managed to reset her arm. Aside from her tantrums and sickness, Carmen has also spent the last week suffering from infection. This affliction could explain her moodiness, and the fever we have been steadily breaking since last night.”

“Infection?”

“Are you familiar with the bot fly, Hermana Nieve?”

I had already canceled my classes, and I am relieved I did. The children did not need to see this, they did not need to hear her. Doctor Gil suggested I finish my breakfast, so much as it was. My own distress for Carmen kept me from completely enjoying my meal. I was joined by Father Alvarelo, who met me in the courtyard, and made his way to the infirmary with me. We walked together silently, though I had the impression he meant to say something. His head kept turning to watch my profile, and his lips seemed to squirm with sentences kept behind clenched teeth. In the end, he was silent.

We stepped inside. The patients that were there had been relocated to the furthest wing of the infirmary. Whether this was the doctor’s decision, as Carmen was being rather destructive the other night, or the patients’ was beyond me. Frankly, I was focused solely on Carmen.

The curtain was pulled aside. There was Pepita who was pouring tea for the still sleeping Carmen. Doctor Gil spoke in hushed tones, and waved Father Alvarelo and I over. Father Alvarelo stopped me.

“Will you be all right?”

“Father, I sincerely doubt it. What has happened to Carmen is nightmarish. I cannot turn away from her, nor could I turn her away though. I must do this.”

Father Alvarelo nodded. This was a fine enough answer for him, and even if it was not, I would insist on my presence. We both came to stand at Carmen’s bedside. The Tairona woman nodded to us, and moved to Doctor Gil’s side. Father Alvarelo pulled a chair up to the bed, facing Carmen. Pepita had untied the back of Carmen‘s slip. There were patches of gauze, pasted to her back. Doctor Gil kept his voice low, and nodded to myself and Father Alvarelo.

“Carmen,” Father Alvarelo called tenderly, his hand smoothed across Carmen’s cheek. Her coif removed, curled red locks hung around her neck and cheek, plastered there by the nights previous sweat. She flickered to life slowly, just as I knelt beside Father Alvarelo.

“Oh, Nieve,” she sighed, looking at me with such a pitiful gaze. “I am wretched. Bewildered. Tell me where I am.”

“You are with Doctor Gil.”

Pepita snorted. “Unbelievable. She does not recall a single moment, does she?”

Doctor Gil frowned. “Perhaps you could fetch me a dish, please, Pepita.”

She rolled her eyes and left us, tossing the curtain aside as she went on her way.

My attention never left Carmen. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

Her lips folded, her chin quivered as she shook her head. She winced deeply. Doctor Gil had started massaging in circle motions around her wounds. Carmen stiffened, a small sound of hurt escaping her.

“My dear Nieve,” the Doctor beckoned me, “could you please fetch me a bowl of water and some rags, please? You can use the well by the stable.”

“Yes, Doctor,” I was to my feet, kissing Carmen’s brow, and moving out the door.

When I returned, the smell of coconut was in the air, mixed with a sappy smell. Like pine, but not quite the same perfume. I used my shoulder to nudge through the opening in the curtain. Carmen’s back had been revealed. The gauze had been removed to show three holes about the size of tiny marbles. Two were swollen and red, and at the center was something white. I nearly dropped the water when I saw these white things pulse, twitch, and then bulge further out under the circular pressure from Doctor Gil‘s fingertips, now shiny with oil. The third cavity was hollowed out, but more inflamed than the other holes. I did not see anything white inside.

“Father, it appears she clawed one out,” Doctor Gil said, “but was either too frightened or too embarrassed to tell anyone. I am guessing she was too afraid to attempt to remove the other ones. She did not fully remove this first torsalo from its warble here, and therefore it is infected. I managed to clean it, but we must remove the others. This will relieve the pressure and discomfort in her back.”

“Will she be in pain?” I stammered, unable to move due to the ghastly sight that had been tattooed in my mind.

They all turned to look at me. Doctor Gil took the empty dish from Pepita as she bumped by me on her way back to the bed. “Not considerable pain,” he said, “more of a discomfort.”

Carmen whimpered, and Father Alvarelo took the water and rags from me. He touched my arm, and I peered at the concerned face considering me. “Do not worry about me,” I moved by him, and took a seat in front of Carmen. I took her hand in mine, and she began to weep.

“Nieve…”

“Shh, I am here.”

“The devil is in me. I can feel him. He is inside me. My insides burn,” she shuddered, and I pressed my brow to hers.

“Just hold my hand.”

The Doctor set to work removing the worms. He would occasionally remark how much they resisted, and Carmen hissed that she could feel them holding on, that their needles were set inside of her. I went to Father Alvarelo to take a wet rag from the bowl. I chastise myself now for looking over my shoulder. Why do I have to be so curious? Doctor Gil was removing the first of the two worms. Carmen’s skin was tugged as the bot fly’s larva offered one last clinging resistance. Her flesh rolled around its last ridge, swelled, and then withdrew sharply as the larva was snapped free. The worm was about as long as the distance between my first and second knuckle. It was white, a dull grey color lurked beneath the pale, slimy surface, and there were black, toothy spurs sticking out in greater numbers toward the thickest, writing end. Blood oozed down her back, and the Doctor deposited the worm in the dish, and in the blink of an eye was pressing a new square of gauze to her back.

I was back at Carmen’s side, holding her hand, using my other to draw the rag across her cheeks, neck, and brow. Anything to keep her cool and to keep her calm. I gripped her tightly to keep from losing my own nerve. I was already so close to losing my meager breakfast.

“The first one is out, Carmen,” I coo’ed delicately, and smiled in the hopes that that smile would make her less afraid. “We are almost done. You will be fine. You will be fine, Carmen.”

“No, Nieve,” she shook her head, her eyes squeezed shut, and she burst into further tears. “I will not.” Her sunken eyes reopened, blood shot and glistening with tears. Her face was tense and colorless. Spit had caked at the corners of her lips, stretching between her upper and lower lip. “None of us will. We are damned. We are all of us damned.”