this is actual fact and what this girl have experienced from her own life we will post a file once a week. Pls note names have been changed for personal reasons.
I realize that I am broken.
I know it will not be easy…or go quickly.
These are drabbles written to the best of my memory.
Incident # 0
I started selling coke to make some extra cash and save up for college. Not a soul guessed I did, I was quiet, kept to myself and most of all…people didn’t like dealing with me. It was not as risky as is sounds for all I did was mule it and store some of it for a good friend. Sometimes I dealt with customers. He handled the junkies and the main suppliers.
She was beautiful.
Ethereal.
I was fascinated.
Instantly
Her messy black hairstyle was somewhat akin to that of Shane from the L word. She cut it like that herself she said and this was years before television even thought of letting dykes run rampant on their daytime shows…even the adapted drama’s were somewhat subdued. She smelled of vanilla, Chesterfield
We met one cold May afternoon. She wore torn light blue denims, a roughed up thundercats white fitted shirt and a red and green tartan scarf. Her sneakers looked haggard, old boxer style converse lace ups, red ones. Her cigarette limply dangled out of her mouth, catching in the wind only to be pulled on before it could fall out. The ground yielded to her, her shadow seemed non existent in the late afternoon with the clouds giving her a dramatic halo overhead.
“You Billy Jane?”
I looked away, not wanting to be caught staring at her mouth which curled up slightly on the one side. She fully smiled when I nodded Cheshire cat that’s what I thought in all honesty. Her eyes were the deepest green and she didn’t look like an addict at all. She seemed like she needed to be on the cover of a rock god magazine and I felt like a dodgy little shit sitting on a park bench in the middle of Bothasig. I had to know though, what she actually wanted or why I would be called here of all places. I normally didn’t deal with clients, so I felt quite uneasy about this.
“How much you want?”
She snickered and sat down next to me, her eyes never leaving my face. I knew I was blushing, but my body only thought of one thing – I want to know her it screamed, I want to touch her it echoed within me. She touched my arm and I nearly fainted, but I swallowed and turned my gaze to her once more; steeling my eyes against those two luminous green orbs.
“You’re a hard one to get a hold of…dinner would be enough.”
She knew she had me. She knew my heart fell to the floor and shattered into a million pieces when she smiled at me, eyes closed and teeth hidden behind that magical mouth. She knew it.
We walked over the gravel of the library a week and two days later, darkness our safety blanket, our cover. We had bought banana milkshakes at the seven eleven after getting wired and I told her that I would have to get back soon. She wanted to walk me home, to get rid of the buzz.
I never knew anyone could kiss that thoroughly; that deeply.
Her hands were in my hair, down my neck and under my shirt in what seemed like one swift movement. It felt like my heart, my oversized heart was leaping out of my chest.
“I wanted to touch you when I first saw you.”
Her gruff voice vibrated into the base of my neck and I bucked forward without meaning to. I didn’t want to fight back; all I wanted was her to stay with me, to keep me like this forever. I cried softly while she slid into me, keeping herself there after I went over the edge and kissing my eyelids so softly. My back hurt. The gravel we ended up on did a pretty neat job at tearing my shirt, my palms and her forearms. She kissed me deeply and as I pushed a few strands of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ears I started laughing. We both broke out in a fit of hilarity and her tall slender body shook violently on top of me as we lay there. The tension was gone. I felt free for the first time in my life.
Six months later we decided it would be best if I moved in with her as the apartment was central to the main road and train station. I could go to college then, not having to worry about transport after my year off. I was working like a maniac, running for the smugglers, working as a cashier during the day and then going home to cook for Jessica. It was bliss. I was beside myself when I saw it was time for me to leave work and go home. Home…I never knew what it meant until I started staying there. We would huddle together on the couch after dinner, leaving the world outside to fight its own battles, I honestly thought that despite our constant drug use and me going to N/A three times she didn’t need to go to rehab, but she did and when she came back she was no longer the woman I knew. The god I worshipped.
Eight days later I came home at ten at night from buying a few necessities. She slept in; her body in pain from coping with being sober. We would normally be out with a few friends having a movie night or playing air hockey. It was unusually cold outside for February. The next day would be Valentines, our first living together and I was excited to cook with her and celebrate the day albeit slightly cheesy.
I walked in to the sight of a blanket on the living room floor, blood on the kitchen floor and a wet trail into the bathroom. I ran. I turned the corner into the bathroom and stood horrified – she was blue, her throat, her face her lips. She was crying and couldn’t speak. I fumbled for my cell phone and called an ambulance.
I threw it across the kitchen floor after irritatingly answering the questions of where and what the emergency is. She was shivering but so hot, her body burned with an indescribable fever. She looked at me, touched my face trembling terribly and I started crying. She was leaving. She wanted to let me know.
“I...don’t hate…you…thank you…I’m sorry.”
I held her to me and sobbed and sobbed until the flashing lights of the ambulances came. I re-assembled my phone and I called her mother. I didn’t even argue with her about not being invited to the funeral. I just sat there on Valentines Day 01:13 am on the edge of the bath. I couldn’t vomit or move or even cry anymore. After the sun came up I fell asleep on the floor where she left me.
I flushed the drugs.
I never went back to the flat.
Not even for my clothes.
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