I told Kayla the whole story with Patty. She thought it was hilarious that Patty the counselor was supposed to help other people get their shit together, but she was the biggest train wreck of them all.
A few months went by. Kayla met this guy Alex, and moved in with him. Meanwhile Hussy and I had started talking again.
Hussy told me that she was really sorry about all the lies she had told me in the past, and she felt really bad about the way she treated me. After I had called the cops on her for stealing my checks, she had not only handed me my laptop and $600, but she had also given me 3 or 4 letters. She claimed she had written them right after stealing my debit cards and checks. They were love letters and a full confession. She said she wanted to give me those letters before I found out on my own what she had done, but then she didn't, because she was too scared.
In those love letters, Hussy wrote how bad she felt about stealing from me, because I had treated her better than anyone else had ever treated her, and she really enjoyed being around me. She wrote that she had fallen in love with me. When I read the letters, I figured she had not really written them in the previous few weeks, before getting caught, but right after I screamed at her on the phone, once I had found out that she robbed me, and demanded that she bring me the laptop and my money back the next day.
Now, after we finally started talking to each other again a few months later, she said she had really meant the things she wrote in those letters. And she said she felt so stupid that she had still been living with Dick after meeting me. She claimed she had grown up a lot over the past few months, and realized that she did not want to be with a guy like Dick, who treats her like shit. She wanted to be in a relationship with me, because I had been so nice to her. She said, if I would give her another chance, she would show me that she could be a great girlfriend and make me happy.
I really didn't trust her, but I rrreally liked having sex with her. She had her tubes tied, so she wasn't worried about getting pregnant anymore. Actually she told me she would love it if I could get her pregnant again somehow. She let me cum inside of her every time. And she may not have been the prettiest girl in the world, but she had the tightest pussy I had ever felt. I'm not exactly small I guess, and I couldn't even get inside of her, when I got on top of her. We usually had to start having sex by her lying on top of me, and slowly, gently, easing her way down onto my dick, inch by painful inch, until it was finally completely inside of her after a few minutes.
I agreed to give her another chance, and she started coming over every day again. The New York investor who had bought the duplex she lived in had evicted her and Dick. Hussy said that after that, she and Dick split up, and she and her kids moved into a house near Sunshine Boulevard in Lehigh Acres. Her younger sister, Ferrara, who used to live with Hussy's parents in Ocala, came down to Lehigh Acres and moved in with Hussy.
Hussy had a teenage son who didn't live with her. He was being raised by Hussy's mother in Ocala. And she had two mixed boys with a black guy. She brought them over to meet me. They looked so different, I had a feeling they had two different black fathers. She got very offended by my question and told me her black baby daddy had accused her of the same thing, and he had beaten her many times because he believed that she had been cheating on him and that the second black boy wasn't really his. I figured he was probably right.
Her 4th kid was a little baby girl, Bonny. Dick was Bonny's father. He was about 15 years older than Hussy, and he started having sex with her when she was only 14. As I found out later, he was a drug dealer who lived in a trailer with his mother, in North Fort Myers, near Suncoast Park. He sold his mother's pain pills to drug addicts in Suncoast.
The residents of Suncoast like to brag that it's the largest trailer park in the world, according to the Guinness Book of World Records. I'm not sure if that's really something to brag about, but oh well, I guess people cherish life's little victories wherever they may find them.
Dick had three children from a previous relationship. His kids were much older than Hussy's kids. Dick had a teenage boy, Little Dickey, and two older teenager daughters, Summer and Lucy. Lucy was the oldest, and only 7 years younger than her new stepmom, Hussy.
Hussy told me all sorts of horror stories about Dick. She said he had not only raped and beaten her in front of her children, but he also raped his much younger sister, Nicole, ever since she was 4 years old. Hussy told me he had even raped his younger brother Anthony repeatedly, until Anthony finally committed suicide. Nicole had also tried to kill herself many times, because of the near constant rape in her childhood. And Hussy had tried to kill herself several times, too. Apparently good ole Saint Dick spread his special Christmas cheer wherever he went.
I asked Hussy if Dick ever raped his teenage daughters Summer and Lucy. Hussy said she didn't think so, but she wasn't sure. Both of them were now drug addicts, just like Dick's sister Nicole. Big surprise. What I went through with my abusive father was pretty rough. But he never raped me. I can't even imagine how badly that would have fucked me up. And if someone had offered me some pills to make me forget my pain for a little while, of course I would have taken them, and of course I'd be an addict now, too.
A few months after the check debacle, Hussy and I made up and we started seeing each other every day again. After a few weeks I noticed that she always came over to my place, but never invited me over to her new place near Sunshine Boulevard in Lehigh. I thought that was odd. She said it was because her sister Ferrara, who was now Hussy's roommate, didn't like to have people come over to their house. I told her, if we're dating, then I'm not just "people" and Ferrara really has no right to tell Hussy that she can't have me come over. I started to get suspicious. My spider senses were tingling.
I decided to hack Hussy and find out where exactly she lived now. Then I drove by her house unannounced. I figured, if I had done that months ago, when she still lived in my rental duplex, I would have found out much sooner that she was lying to me all day long, and her "ex" Dick was still living with her, in one of my rental houses, rent free.
When I drove by Hussy's new place, she just so happened to be sitting outside, on the stoop, smoking a cigarette. I stopped in front of her driveway, and waved hello. I was gonna pretend I just so happened to be driving by and found her sitting there on the stoop by accident. Hey, it could happen, right?
When she recognized my car and saw me wave at her, her eyes got big. She was shocked: "Oh my God! You can't just show up here like that! You gotta leave right now! Right now! You can't be here!"
What the fuck?! Who acts like that, unless they have something to hide? I drove away without saying a word. Then I texted her: "What the hell is going on? Are u still living with Dick? Or some other guy? Are u just playing me again?"
"No, I'm not!!! I'm not seeing anyone else!!! But u can't just show up here like that. That totally freaked me out," she texted back.
I didn't believe a word. I texted: "U know what? Fuck u! I'm done with this bullshit. All u ever do is lie to me. Ur never gonna change. I'm going to New York. I'm sick of Florida for a while."
"No, please don't go! I need u. My rent is due. I need ur help," she replied.
I wrote: "Fuck u and ur rent!"
But then I felt bad for her. Well, not so much for her, really. I felt bad for her kids. I didn't want them to end up homeless, just because their mother is a lying, cheating piece of shit. The next day, before I headed to New York, I sent her $400 by Western Union.
A few hours later she texted me. Not to say thank you, but to pretend that she didn't have the money anymore. She claimed somehow the money fell out of her back pocket. Now she was still going to get kicked out, because she still couldn't pay her rent. Of course I didn't believe her. I heard these kinds of stories too many times by now. Hussy was just as bad, if not worse, than Linda.
I told Hussy if she didn't tell me the truth about what's really going on, I would find out for myself. She said there was nothing going on and nothing to
tell. So I found out Ferrara's number and asked her what was up with her sister Hussy.
Ferrara was shocked when I told her that Hussy and I were supposedly dating. She told me that Hussy and Dick were living together at the house near Sunshine Boulevard. In fact Dick was in the living room, when I pulled up in front of the house. That's why Hussy had freaked out like that. She didn't want Dick and me to meet. Ferrara told me that her sister Hussy was a horrible liar and a terrible person. When even your own sister talks about you like that, you know you're a pretty shitty person.
Then I called Hussy's mother in Ocala. I introduced myself and asked her if she could tell me what the deal is with Hussy. Her mother told me that Hussy was a terrible person who made everyone around her miserable with her lies, and I should run the other way and never look back. Wow.
I asked her about Hussy's dead sister Amber. Her mother told me there was no Amber. That's when I found out all that had been a big lie. And Amber's kids obviously didn't exist either. I asked her mother whether she went to jail, when Hussy asked me for bail money to bond her out a few months earlier. Nope. Her mother had never been in jail a day in her life. And that's when I found out that when Hussy's father supposedly texted me that Hussy was so upset about her mother being in jail, she was going to kill herself, that was not really her father texting me, but Hussy herself.
THE BIG LIE
"In the big lie there is always a certain force of credibility... in the primitive simplicity of their minds the people more readily fall victims to the big lie than the small lie, since they themselves often tell small lies in little matters but would be ashamed to resort to large-scale falsehoods. It would never come into their heads to fabricate colossal untruths, and they would not believe that others could have the impudence to distort the truth so infamously."
Adolf Hitler
Linda still called me at least 2 or 3 times a week. At first she kept calling to help me get over Alice. But over time, my grief over losing Alice faded, and I was wrapped up in my adventures with Hussy. I guess there was a silver lining in everything I had been going through with Hussy. She helped me forget Alice.
When Alice ran away from rehab, I was so heartbroken, it felt like she had died. I grieved. I mourned. And for me, my Alice really did die, when I finally realized that the Alice in my head was not the same Alice that existed in the real world. The Alice in my head was a sweet, beautiful girl. My dream girl. But the Alice in the real world was a drug addicted hooker who fucked every guy in town and sucked any dope boy's dick for a hit. My dream girl with the sunny smile died, and all that was left was a rancid zombie who roamed the shadows, always looking for the next guy to fuck, the next dick to suck. I wanted nothing to do with the real world Alice.
After a few months, my phone conversations with Linda no longer revolved around Alice, but around the crazy girls I had met in Florida. Especially Hussy. Linda thought it was entertaining. To her, listening to my stories was like watching a soap opera on TV. Tune in tomorrow, to find out what happens next!
But Linda also had crazy stories for me. Some of them were about her own awkward experiences as a rookie hooker. But most of her stories revolved around her friend Stephanie. Stephanie was a heroin addicted hooker who had moved from New York to Atlantic City. She was homeless and prowled the Boardwalk. Linda told me that Stephanie used to be a beautiful girl. A tall, skinny blonde with a gorgeous face and a great body. But now she looked like a mangy toothless crackhead. Linda even sent me naked pictures of Stephanie, to show me how disgusting she looked now.
Stephanie had been raped, beaten and left for dead on the Atlantic City Boardwalk several times. You'd think she would have hit rock bottom after those experiences. But no. None of that made her quit. It just made her want to use even more drugs, to forget her miserable life. As long as she could get high, she didn't care if she was being raped in a dark alley. At this point in her life, a lethal overdose probably would have felt like her salvation.
Linda's stories about Stephanie really opened my eyes about how powerful drug addiction really is. It's easy for a sober person to say: "Just get over it and stop using drugs." But that's like telling a starving person not to eat. No matter how much will power you have, eventually you cave and you stuff your face with all the food you can get your hands on. And at that moment nothing else in the world matters.
Since those conversations with Linda, I read a lot about addiction. One medical article stood out to me. It explained that different parts of our brain are in charge of different things. The midbrain is the oldest, most primitive part of our brain. It's kinda like a cockroach. Not very bright. The midbrain is in charge of our cravings. If we only had a midbrain, we'd be fucking, eating and doing drugs all day long. We'd give in to every craving, every urge without any thought about the consequences of our actions.
Then there's the prefrontal cortex. That's the most advanced part of our brain. It's responsible for complex problem solving and abstract thinking. Basically it's the part of our brain that separates us from animals. The prefrontal cortex is where our brain considers the consequences of our actions. It's the part of our brain that lets us predict and contemplate future events, and how our actions will affect our future, or the lives of other people. The prefrontal cortex is what gives us empathy. A shark doesn't feel guilty when it eats someone. That's just what sharks do. But a typical human will feel bad for someone else, feel pity, guilt and remorse thanks to the prefrontal cortex.
It takes a long time for the prefrontal cortex to fully develop. Doctors say that part of the brain is not fully operational until you are about 25 years old. That's why teenagers think differently than adults. A teenage brain is simply not fully developed yet, and therefore not as good as an adult brain at considering the consequences of your actions, or truly comprehending how your actions affect someone else. That's why courts treat teenage offenders with more leniency than adult criminals.
It's also the reason why drug court is more lenient with drug offenders, because drugs like heroin or crack disrupt the development and function of the prefrontal cortex. The brain of a drug addict simply does not work the same way as a sober brain. A brain on drugs, with an impaired prefrontal cortex, is simply not capable of considering the consequences, or feeling empathy for your victims, in the same way as a sober brain.
To me, that right there explains why drugs turn addicts into selfish sociopaths who will hurt anyone to get the next high. Being mad at a drug addict for doing what drug addicts do, is like being mad at a shark for doing what sharks do, or being mad at a cockroach for doing what cockroaches do.
Addicts don't like when you tell them they are all the same. Of course not. Who would? But to me, addicts are like actresses, who all audition for the same role in a horror movie. It doesn't matter how they got to the audition. It doesn't matter how or where they grew up, once they get to the audition, all the actresses act in the same way and read the same lines. They all become the same character.
To me, the impairment of the prefrontal cortex explains why traditional rehab has such an incredibly high failure rate. The AA 12-step program is all about talking to the prefrontal cortex. They tell you to think about how your behavior has hurt other people. You're supposed to think about how drugs have ruined your life. Those are complex thoughts that happen in the prefrontal cortex. But when you put a bag of heroin or a crack pipe in front of an addict, the prefrontal cortex simply shuts down. It goes on vacation. All that is left is the midbrain, screaming for drugs: "Yeah! Let's do it! It'll feel sooo gooood! Fuck tomorrow! Fuck the consequences! Let's get hiiigh rrright nooow!"
You can train the prefrontal cortex all you want, with 12-step slogans and prayers, but none of that is gonna do you any good, if your prefrontal cortex isn't even home when your midbrain takes over and you're about to relapse.
I picture the battle between the prefrontal cortex and the midbrain like the cliché of the little angel and the little devil sitting on your shoulders. The angel (
the prefrontal cortex) tells you not to do drugs: "Think about what it will do to your life! Think about your loved ones!" Meanwhile the little devil (the midbrain) on your other shoulder just chants: "Do it! Do it! Do it!"
And primitive urges are usually a lot stronger than rational thought. That's why people do things even when they know that they shouldn't. Drug addicts know they shouldn't take drugs. But they do it anyway.
People cheat on their spouses, even though they know that 5 minutes of sex with someone else is not worth ruining a lifelong relationship. But they cheat anyway, because the midbrain is winning. The poor little angel is fighting a losing battle.
Overweight people know they shouldn't eat 6 donuts in a row. But they do it anyway. Why? Because the little angel, who knows all about bad cholesterol and heart disease, was on vacation while the little devil screamed: "Do it! Do it! Do it!"
And that, in a nutshell, is why the AA 12-step-program has such a high failure rate in my opinion.
Anyway, let's get back to Linda:
The stories she told me about her own life often revolved around her kids. Her young son and her baby daughter. You know, the one she wanted to abort when we met in Pennsylvania a year earlier.
The Heroin Scene in Fort Myers Page 4
