Of course, tiny little Mari couldn’t hurt Dumas physically.  But every word she spoke hit him like a punch in the face.  If this Mari could be trusted, then she was the core personality -- the true self.  And the Mari that he cared about was the shadow, the ‘symptom’ that needed to be cured.  Bitter pain filled Dumas’s heart as all his worst fears were confirmed.  He’d fallen for a ghost.<br/><br/>Like a man in a trance, Dumas stared at Mari as her expression shifted from cruel triumph to confusion.  Did this signal the return of his Mari?  Or was the other Mari just jerking him around?  Unlike Chester, Dumas didn’t possess a talent for telling when people were lying.  The events of that morning had proven his inability to differentiate between the two selves.  And part of him was afraid that he’d never again be really sure who he was dealing with.<br/><br/>Even when Mari mouthed her silent plea, Dumas remained frozen.  It took steady pressure from Chester to make him lower his arm.  Almost anyone else would have been knocked away like an annoying fly.  But Dumas allowed Chester to manipulate his digits, offering as little resistance as a slightly stiff puppet, until the magician had completely freed Mari.  Then Dumas took a shaky step backwards.  The man who had remained deadly calm in the midst of a firefight was now trembling all over.<br/><br/>“Get her somewhere safe, Ches.  Look after her.  I can’t--”  Dumas stopped, unable to explain the immensity of everything he couldn’t do.  He couldn’t take his eyes off the spot where he’d struck her face. He couldn’t tell her about the even worse crime he’d committed that morning.  And he couldn’t trust himself to hold back from killing her if the other Mari returned and started taunting him again.  If that bitch ever spoke the name she’d seen tattooed between his shoulder blades, Dumas knew he’d start smashing her head against the nearest wall until there was nothing left but bits of bone and brain.<br/><br/>“Tell her that I didn’t know.  Tell her I’m sorry.”  Still retreating, Dumas felt his back bump against the alley wall.  With nowhere left to go, he squeezed his eyes shut, hoping this would make the world leave him alone.  “I’m so fucking sorry.”