Subject: [OTL]: [Sandman] [Delirium] Twenty-One
Date: Thu, 3 May 2001 23:10:17 +0200

Posted for Yona. Send HER feedback on it on delirium@subreality.com. Not
me.
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"Twenty-One"
by Yona

A fic for a Certain Tim Tam Faerie.

Disclaimer:  The author does not pretend she owns the copyrights to the
Endless characters.  In fact, she's rather hoping Vertigo doesn't find out.
Also, she makes no claims to the beautifully crafted song lyrics, which are
from "21" by The Cranberries.  So let's keep this on the down low, okay?

Archiving:  Let me know where.

Feedback:  Always appreciated, although flames will be taken, eyeballed, and
laughed at.

"I don't think it's going to/happen anymore/
You took my thoughts from me/now I want nothing more..."

When I was young, everything was different.  My parents didn't mind it when
I would play with Della.  I heard them talking to each other about it.  I
don't know why they said she was imaginary.  I could see her, hear her, feel
her when she hugged me after a nightmare...

She always said she'd have her big brother make the nightmares go away.  
I believed her, even though they didn't stop.  There was always a man who
smiled a lot, showing his eyeteeth.  No, not like the expression, "I would
give my eye teeth."  He had teeth for his eyes.  Stuff like that's creepy,
whether you're five or fifteen.

"Did you think you could just/take it all away/
I don't think it's happening/this is what I say..."

I've been here for six years now.  Well, a week from today it'll be six.  
My parents didn't, and still don't like Della.  They said it wasn't normal 
for a fifteen year old to have imaginary friends, but what's normal anyway?
She's not imaginary.  I can even tell you what she looks like:  fishnet
stockings with holes, no shoes, her hair is half red and half purple and
kind of short today.  I think her blue shirt brings out her green eye very
well.  Doesn't do so much for the blue eye.  Right now, she's making little
lit-up jellyfish that swim around her head.  I can hear her laughing.

"Leave me alone/leave me alone/leave me alone/
'Cos I found it all/twenty-one/twenty-one/twenty-one..."

I can't talk to the nurses about Della.  They give me this sticky-sweet red
looking stuff, and then they tell me it'll help Della leave me alone for a
while.  I don't want Della to leave me alone.  I want them to leave me
alone.  Della's the only one who remembered what today is, and she never
remembers anything clearly.  That's sort of why I'm here.  I should have
never asked Mom if Della could come to my birthday party.  She didn't
understand that Della would make it so much more fun!  I wish she would show
Mom some of the stuff she can do, like making butterflies out of thin air...
I wish I could do that.  Della's just cool that way.

"I don't think it's going to/happen anymore/
I don't think it's going to/happen anymore/
Twenty-one/twenty-one/twenty-one/
Twenty-one/twenty-one/twenty-one/today..."

My friends and I would always talk about what we'd do once we turned
twenty-one.  I always said Della and I would hit the bars, get drunk, and
sing karaoke all night.  They always asked who Della was.

So what will I do today?

Well, Della and I were going to go away for a bit.  She wants me to go to
her place.  I don't know how we'll get past the nurses, but she'll find a
way.

Della says her place is a fun place to have a birthday.