She placed her left hand around the top of my ankle and squeezed harder than I thought she could have. Syringe in hand, she pierced a bulging vein on my instep. It stung at first then was followed by a warm orange-cream colored wave that slowly crawled up my leg. It was hard to describe other than to say that it felt orange and peaceful, and that everything the wave washed over was 'going to be okay.'

I opened my eyes and looked at my foot, expecting it to be orange. It looked normal but didn't ache any longer. It was going to be okay. The wave rolled up to my hip then turned down the other leg and up my torso at the same time. She removed the needle and I noticed half its contents still showed in the glass window. She swabbed the needle with another soaked cotton ball and checked it again for air bubbles. The wave slowly reached my upper chest then raced up my neck and over my face and head in a few heartbeats. Everything was going to be okay now. She readjusted the seat and readied the syringe again.

"I really don't think I need another one." I heard the words slowly drawl out of my mouth in a long orange-cream colored line, but that was okay. I had to fight to keep my eyes focused.

She laughed at me. "You're really cute," she said as she turned the syringe on herself. The needle entered a vein on the back of her hand and she depressed the plunger, emptying the contents. That was okay too.

The minor surgery that followed was quick, fuzzy and painless. She placed the stitches in my heel and wrapped my foot and ankle in a white bandage. The effects of the drink, the fire, the adrenaline, the shock, and the syringe were taking their toll by the time she had put on the last wraps. I felt myself drifting toward sleep and had to fight to keep my eyes open.

"How do you feel?"

I couldn't tell who's voice it was. It seemed to come from everywhere in the room. "Better. Sleepy." My words had almost returned to their original color.

"I'll have Antonio prepare a guest room for you. Rest, I'll be right back."

I fell asleep in the tub and awoke when they lifted me up by my arms. My head still swam with whatever she had shot me with, and I had trouble keeping my balance on one leg. They carried me through a large room into a small bedroom on the other side of the church. They spoke to each other in Spanish as we went. A single bed waited inside the guest room with covers pulled back invitingly. I fell asleep as soon as I hit the pillow and dreamt rare and unwelcome dreams.