by Nicola Haken
Aunt Sarah is living a few blocks away in the most decent apartment she can afford – a miniscule, flea-infested cesspit that consists of two rooms and a tiny bathroom. There’s one bedroom big enough for a single bed and a dressing table, and a living room/slash kitchen with moldy cabinets and a broken cooker. My stuff is there to, but I can’t say I’m actually living there. I spend most nights crashing on the first flat surface I collapse onto.
I’ve heard on the grapevine she’s got herself a job in a backstreet café wiping tables and scrubbing toilets. It kills me that she’s had to degrade herself to this kind of existence because of me so I try not to think about it. I try not to think about her at all actually. I ignore the calls that come through several times a day and on the odd occasion I’ve seen her crossing the street I pull my hood up over my face and purposely turn to walk the other way.
Bet you thought I couldn’t get any more selfish huh?
I also try not to think about Emily but sometimes my mind has other ideas. My thoughts like to taunt me – remind me what I’ve done to her. It forces me to consider the fact that she’s probably moved on by now. It’s so fucking painful I tend to go off and get wrecked to take my mind to a more numbing place.
Stevie was ready and waiting for me when I approached the lot behind Big Al’s. It took less than a minute to wrap up our exchange. We weren’t friends. We weren’t there to catch up. I had what he wanted and he had what I needed. I was almost down to my last fifty-dollars and I felt so anxious about what the fuck I was gonna do when it ran out. I’d already stopped eating. I’d drink from the taps in public bathrooms during the day and sweet talk chicks into buying me drinks at night.
And no. Before you ask I haven’t screwed a single one of them.
Stevie sped off in his top of the range Beemer and I walked straight into Big Al’s and through to the restrooms. Shutting the stall door behind me I crouched down on my knees in front of the toilet. Flipping the lid down I plucked what I needed from the hidden pocket inside my jacket and laid them out on the surface.
A tiny pang of shame bit into my insides as I sprinkled just the right amount of gear onto the spoon in my left hand. Don’t judge me okay. Shooting it is the fastest way – the most intense way. This is the only way that makes me forget everything completely. And damn fucking quick.
After resealing the baggie I uncapped the small diabetic syringe and drew some water up from the bottle I bought this morning before squirting it onto the spoon and giving the concoction a little mix with the sharp tip. Then, laying the rig down on a piece of toilet paper to keep it clean, I grabbed my lighter and flipped the flint before holding it below the spoon until the liquid turned clear and started to bubble.
My heart was pounding in anticipation as I got myself tied up. I rolled my baggy sleeve up to the top of my arm but I’d lost too much weight for it to be under any kind of pressure so I had to roll it over several times to keep it in place. I keep the tie I wore for my mom’s funeral stuffed in my pants pocket (yeah I know what a twisted fuck that makes me) and after teasing it out I wrapped it around my right arm, above the elbow before pulling it tighter with my teeth and tying it in a firm knot.
Then, sitting a tightly pressed cotton ball on top of the spoon to act as a filter, I rigged up my needle and flicked the air bubbles away. This was it. My fingers were twitching knowing I was so close. Clenching my right fist, the eager veins in the crook of my arm came to life – each one begging to be hit. As always I chose the most prominent, and within seconds the invigorating, mind-numbing liquid was shooting up my arm, straight through my veins and into my tortured brain…
And it felt fucking amazing.
I felt incredible walking out of Big Al’s. If anyone I didn’t want to think about popped into my head it didn’t matter. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was the amount of sensational energy taking over my body and I set off into a full-sprint in search of the nearest bar, knowing the only thing that could make this experience any better was alcohol. And lots of it.
**********
The high only lasted half a freakin’ hour. It’s getting shorter. I know I need more but I just can’t damn well afford it. I’ve pulled in all the favors I can and used up most of the cash I took from Aunt Sarah’s stash. Maybe I could let myself into her apartment while she’s working and pick up some of my stuff to sell. Won’t be worth much but it should do me a couple of days while I re-evaluate my situation.
I left the bar I’d wandered into not long after I started to come down. Usually alcohol would keep me jacked up for a while longer but the chicks didn’t seem to be digging the worthless fuckin’ hobo look tonight. My dithering skin broke out into a cold sweat as I took off down the street. My racing heart started slowing and I felt angry and irritable. That’s probably why the guy who knocked into me on my way out of the liquor store received a throat full of my fist.
I rammed my fist into his face until the grazes on my knuckles started to burn. I was so far gone in every sense of the word and I honestly don’t know if I would’ve kept going until I killed him. But I didn’t get the chance to find out because when I ducked to dodge a swing from him, someone grabbed hold of my shirt and pulled me off him. It took two random guys to prize me away – that’s how fucking angry I was. There was some shouting, talk of cops being called and I definitely heard more than one person ask me what the fuck my problem was… but I tuned everything out and got the hell out of there.
What? The dumbfuck should’ve been watching where he was heading.
I hadn’t intended to go into the liquor store but nevertheless I soon found myself leaving with the biggest bottle of Jack I could afford tucked under my jacket. My body was aching. I was so tired… exhausted in every sense of the word. Instincts took me back to the familiar park and I flopped myself backwards onto the slatted wooden bench overlooking the frozen pond.
The drizzling rain was slowly soaking through my clothes as I popped the cap of my bottle of Jack. I brought it eagerly to my lips and took a generous swig, wincing as the harsh liquor burned my throat. It was doing the trick though. It was warming my veins and my dithering body, and slowly but surely anesthetizing my mind.
Slumping down in my seat I tilted my head back and looked up towards the dark sky. It was a clear night – the kind of night that would freeze my balls into prunes. Knowing this, I knocked back a few more gulps of whiskey to warm myself up. The stars were out in force. Like the ocean, they reminded me how small and insignificant I was. I tried and failed to find a reason for my existence. If there really was a god, what the fuck was going through his mind when he decided to put me on this godforsaken planet?
There is no point to me. I serve no purpose. What was I offering the world sitting there, alone and wrecked off my eyeballs on a rotting bench in the middle of the night? I’m never going to amount to any level of greatness. I’m never going to be able to love or bring new life into the world. I will always just be this.
Selfish.
Broken.
Irreparable.
“Well, well, well…” My neck snapped in the direction of the voice that’s haunted me all my life. “I always knew you were worthless,” my father spat with a satisfied smirk crawling across his cruel face.
“Why do you hate me so much, Dad,” I slurred, trying to focus on his body which appeared to be rippling in the slight breeze. He leaned down to my level so his mouth was hovering against my ear. His warm breath sent burning shivers slithering down my spine as I realized this was the closest we’d ever been.
“Because she put you first,” he growled in my ear. Confused, my mouth opened and then snapped shut just as quickly. My father straightened himself up, smoothing out the non-existent creases in his smart, gray dress-jacket before spitting onto the ground beside my feet. Then he turned to walk away to wherever he came from, but after a few steps, he looked back.
“You know, I debated whether to cut through here or take the main road. Clearly I made
the right decision. It’s been a pleasure seeing you again, son.” He said ‘son’ with such distaste – as if the word was made of acid. “Seeing you with nothing… well, that makes everything worthwhile.”
If I hadn’t have been so intoxicated I would’ve jumped up from the bench and pounded my fist so hard into his skull he would never be able to talk to me like that again. In fact, if my body wasn’t so weak and my eyes so blurry, I would’ve made sure he couldn’t talk to anyone about anything ever again. But instead, feeling too shaky and drained to even lift the bottle of Jack back up to my dry lips, I just watched him walk away. I stared after him, pure hatred poisoning my insides and making me want to retch, until he disappeared behind a cluster of naked trees and the darkness took him away from me.
That man set the wheels in motion on their journey to destroy my life almost twenty-five years ago when I was first thrust into this meaningless world. Now? Well I guess I’m just finishing what he started.
Chapter Fourteen
~Emily~
I was still in my pink kitten pyjamas, curled up on the sofa and chomping my way through a giant bag of Minstrels when Chris came home from work. I’ve been spending most days like this lately. By lately, I mean the past two months since I got back. Pathetic isn’t it?
I’ve been staying with Chris like I planned before I left Ohio. Though admittedly, I didn’t expect to be staying this long. I truly believed me leaving would shock Dexter into sorting himself out. How naïve am I? I can’t face going back to London yet. I can’t even face talking to people, talking to my best friends, over the phone so I know I’m nowhere near ready to see them face to face.
Chris’ house is big enough for us both though so I don’t feel overly in the way. It’s a small ‘two up two down’ terrace in Knutsford so I’ve got my own room which I’m becoming a little too comfortable staying in. He rarely has visitors and his relationship with the girl he spent Christmas with only lasted until New Years Day so again, I don’t feel like imposing. I know this can’t go on forever and I know I need to sort my head out. I’m just struggling a little trying to figure out how to go about that.
“You can’t go on like this, Emmie. What the fuck did he do to you?” Chris asked for the billionth time since I came to stay with him.
“He didn’t do anything. I’ve told you… he needs to stay with his aunt and I need to stay with my family.” When I first got to Chris’ house a couple of months ago I told him all about Dexter’s parents and everything that’d happened while I was over there. When I say ‘everything’… well I purposely omitted the part where Dexter got himself hooked on cocaine.
“That’s bullshit,” he deadpanned. “What family, Emmie?” I glared up at him in disbelief and he sighed sorrowfully before pushing my legs out of the way so he could join me on the couch. “What I mean is… no one even knows you’re here. Mum and Dad, well I don’t blame you. But Rachel… Why don’t you want to see her? She’s your best friend. I just don’t get it.”
I simply shrugged – just like I always did when he asks me this question. I had no reason other than I wasn’t ready to talk about Dexter and there was no way that would be an option if I had to see Rachel.
“You need her. Hell, you need something. I don’t know, maybe look for a job? You need to get out of this place before you start rotting.”
“Oh my God. I’m sorry, Chris I just didn’t think...”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Rent. You’re right I should get a job. I didn’t even think about you putting me up for free. How selfish-”
“Oh come on, Emmie, I don’t want your money,” he interrupted, sounding offended. “I suggested getting a job just to give you something to focus on. Give you a reason to get up in the morning instead of lying on that couch like a corpse all goddamn day.” I shrugged. Again. “What about Uni? You seriously just giving up on that?”
“We’ve talked about this,” I muttered, exasperated. I’ve not only missed too many classes to have any hope of catching up but I also didn’t give a crap. “It’s not my dream. It’s Mum’s.”
“It’s just not healthy the way you’re acting right now,” he said compassionately, taking hold of my hand and squeezing it gently. “And I know the nightmares are back.”
Damn.
He was right. He must have heard me screaming in the middle of the night. Once again, just when I started to believe they might’ve left me for good, they come back more forceful than ever. This is the first time they’ve changed though. Now, it’s not just Livvie’s eyes that haunt my dreams – it’s Dexter’s. When Livvie stops moving, when her eyes glass over and she stares into nothingness as her tiny, lifeless body bobs up and down on the surface of the murky water… Dexter sweeps me in his arms and cradles me while I scream. He tells me he’s here and that he will never leave me and as I stare into his denim-blue eyes, for the briefest of seconds I believe him.
Then I wake up and the pain in my chest is even more excruciating than while I was dreaming.
“It will get better,” I murmur. It has to right? There’s no place lower than where I am right now. “They’ll go away. They always do.”
“Maybe you should talk to someone. A GP or a nurse or something,” he suggested. I raised an incredulous eyebrow and for the first time in what must be months, I laughed.
“You think I’m going crazy?” I snorted.
“No,” he answered quickly, shaking his head of grease-stained red hair. “I don’t know what to think. I’m just worried about you, Emmie.” My heart sank as the familiar guilt set in. It was only then I realised how unfair I was being. Dexter wasn’t the only important person in my life and yet he’s the only one I’ve allowed myself to think about. Chris, Rachel, Jared… I haven’t given them a second thought.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered sincerely.
“I don’t need your apologies. I just need you to be happy again. I miss you, Emmie.”
“I’m here. I promise I am. You’re right I do need to start bucking my ideas up. Starting right now.” I squeezed his hand before wriggling mine free and then jumped to my feet, kissing Chris on the top of the head.
“Where you going?” he asked enthusiastically.
“To shower. Then I’m going to call Rachel.”
“I think that’s the best decision you’ve made since you got here.” He looked at me with the proud smile only a big brother can give and for the first time in forever I felt... positive. Sort of. Maybe. “Hey,” he called when I turned to head for the bathroom. I looked back and nodded my head upwards (if that makes sense. If it doesn’t, try it and you’ll see what I mean). “Hurry up in the shower. I fuckin’ stink.”
“Who you telling?” I teased with a soft laugh. Then I practically ran up the stairs and to the bathroom to wash away all the dirt and depression.
**********
When I got out of the shower I changed into actual clothes rather than just another set of pyjamas. Then I scraped my damp hair back into a long plait and sat nervously on the edge of my bed with my suddenly heavy mobile in my hands. I hovered over Rachel’s number for several long minutes before throwing the phone down on the bed, picking it up again and repeating the whole process.
Eventually, sucking on my tongue in an effort to summon enough saliva to let my arid mouth form coherent words, I hit call.
“Hello?” Rachel answered just as I expected the voicemail message to kick in. Hello… my heart plummeted into my toes. She never greeted me with hello. ‘Hey, slag’, ‘waddup, bitch’ or ‘yo, ho’ were what I was used to. This could only mean one thing – she was angry with me.
“Hey,” I mumbled nervously. “I um, just wanted to let you know I was back. I’m staying with Chris for a while until I get my head together.”
“So how long have you been back?” she asked, completely monotone… emotionless.
“Not long.” The second the lie passed my lips I didn’t even know why I’d said it.
; “Really?” she questioned sceptically. “Two months seems a pretty long time to me.”
Shit.
“You knew?”
“Chris called me,” was all she said. I didn’t know when and I wasn’t brave enough to ask.
“Oh.” My heart was hammering against my chest and I knew the second I hung up the call I would cry. Rachel has been my best friend forever and I’d never heard her sound so detached before this moment. I’d rather her have been annoyed, or disappointed or even upset… anything that showed she still cared – that I’d not ruined us. “I’m sorry.”
“So you know how long you’ll be up north? Or do I need to start looking for a new flatmate?”
Ouch.
“Please don’t be like that. I’m sorry, Rach. I really am.”
“I’m not being like anything, Emily…” Emily? Double ouch. “I can’t afford the rent on my own. I couldn’t even afford to go out for my birthday last week.”
Damn Damn Damn Damn Damn.
“Crap, Rach I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.” Yep that sounded just as pathetic and selfish out loud as it did in my head.
“I’m over it,” she said blankly.
“Please Rachel. I’m so sorry I haven’t been in touch but I can’t bear the thought of you hating me for it. You’re my best friend. I love you and I need you right now.”
“Yeah? Well I needed you too. You’re not the only one with shit going on you know.” I opened my mouth to reply and then closed it again when I realised she was right. The worst part is, I knew something was bothering her. She’d mentioned a few times in the dwindling number of texts I’d received over the last couple of months that she needed to talk. But surprise surprise, I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to care. I guess I just felt like my problems were worse. I assumed while I was dealing with the consequences of addiction, dying mothers and twisted fathers, she would just be pining over a boy. Dear God, I’ve been so selfish.
