Revenge and music

I find it strange, how my brain works. It chooses what it wants to remember. Sometimes, my memories scare the shit out of me. And then I wish that I could remember the entire moment so I can understand what it was that really happened. But I think my brain is just trying to protect me or something. I guess it could be a good thing.

Anyhow...Back Then...

I made it through somehow. Withdrawal beat the shit out of me but, dammit, I was still standing.

I replaced the deadly addiction with a new one...guitar. And when that wasn't enough, I'd draw. I actually drew up a comic book that somehow duplicated and circulated for a few years...around to all my friends. I was doing great and had never felt better.

KK came back into town. He was older than me, like most of my friends, but I had known him the longest. He had been my grandmother's neighbor forever. He was fresh back from California. And he was the neighborhood "dealer" if you know what I mean.

He was the only one I told about what DK had done to me. And he stood behind me as I beat the living daylights out of that fucker. I told you I would get revenge and I never said I wasn't violent (well, I'm not now but I was back then). I never saw DK again after that day. He either moved away or KK did something that he didn't tell me.

So, KK had known that I played the guitar and he told me that when he got back from his trip, we were going to start a band. But...I wasn't so sure it was a good idea.

"Why not?" he asked. We were sitting on the planter in front of my house smoking cigarettes.
I studied my cigarette like it would help me explain. "I'm just...look, I've known you forever. But, I need to stay away from the stuff you, umm, do and sell."

The quiet was deafening as he considered my words.

He patted my shoulder. "I respect the fact that you wanna be clean. I'm cool with that." He raked his hand through his hair. "I would never try to push any of this shit on you. I've known you pretty much since you were born. I'll watch your back. But, please, please be in this band with me."

I believed him. He was like a big brother to me. But I was still weary about it and I know he read it all over my face.

He took a deep breath as he searched for his convincing words. "I promise you, when we practice, everyone will be straight. We will put the music before the high. And if the rest of the guys don't like it, then they're out."

To be in a band with KK was something I had wanted for a long time. I wasn't the greatest guitar player at the time, but he was. And his knowledge of music was something I knew he wanted to pass on to me. I felt like I trusted his words enough to agree.

"Alright. I'll do it. But I mean it, KK, no drugs." I held his eyes as he stood.
"Fuckin' wicked!" He pulled me up and gave me a hug. "We won't even have to be good. You're so hot, guys will show up just to see you."
"Fuck you," I laughed and pushed him away.

And so Iron Cross was formed. KK kept his promise. Everyone, including KK, was completely sober at our practices. We practiced everyday for about two weeks. As good as it was going, I had a feeling it wouldn't last. But KK did get to teach me a hell of a lot. And after the bassist and drummer had had enough of playing sober, they quit.

"It's supposed to be sex, DRUGS, and rockn' roll, man," one of the guys complained.
KK, being the bad ass that he was, helped them both out the door with his fists. It wasn't just the drug thing they were fighting about, but I think that statement is what pushed him over the edge.

KK and I continued playing and we actually wrote a few decent songs together. (I think I still have the lyrics somewhere.) And LG...she really wasn't liking all the time we were spending together. No matter how many times I explained that he was like a brother to me, she was still jealous.

Honestly, I didn't think she had the right to be jealous. She was cheating on him constantly. He cheated on her too, but not with me. And I was kind of stuck in the middle but I kept my mouth shut. Their relationship was really none of my business. As much as they liked to pretend, I could tell they didn't love each other. Not in the least bit. It would self destruct on its own...without my help.

I had enough to deal with anyway. I told LG to fuck off. If she couldn't trust me around KK then she didn't need to be my friend. Of course she quickly apologized and tried to pawn off her anger on not having any coke or something. I shrugged it off. Whatever.

I was proud of myself. I had managed to stay away from EVERYTHING for an entire month. I still had weird withdrawal symptoms, but I was doing it. Even with the crowd of users that seemed to cling to me.

Yeah, I thought I had it made, getting past the hardest stuff, but...
TO BE CONTINUED of course!

Addiction Cemetery

This post goes out to Starr and Peace and all the girls over at CrazyLesbianCircus that have been asking for more. I love you girls and miss you like mad.

And I'd like to publicly thank Starr for wanting to write the book about this stuff. She says my life is an inspiration and the story needs to be told. I think the same about her life...but she has refused to let me write about it.

On to the next chapter...Back Then.

I was in and out of consciousness for I don't know how long. At one point, I do remember moving the dresser from in front of the door. But I forgot to unlock it. I prayed as I sat in the corner trying to stay awake that my mom would come home and check on me and she would call the ambulance.

That trip to the hospital never happened. So, I died. Yes, I really died. If I told you the story of how I know this, you would probably think I was completely insane. But I really did die.

I was given a choice. Clean up or never go back. Obviously I chose to clean up because I'm here now. I can give you a million reasons for why I decided to live but the one that matters the most was my mom. I knew she wouldn't have been able to handle it. I couldn't do that to her.

When I finally came to and realized what had happened wasn't really a dream, I kind of freaked. I went to the kitchen and grabbed some trash bags. I went through every thing I owned and threw away anything and everything that reminded me of drugs. Pipes, bongs, music, my art, clothes. Everything. If I was going to do it, if I was going to keep that promise and stay clean, I couldn't have any reminders or triggers.

After I stuffed it all in the trash bin outside, I went back in my room. In my dresser drawer, below the Rolling Stone magazine was my stash. I think I sat there and stared at that drawer for at least an hour. And when I finally pulled it from that drawer, I held that little bag in my hand and begged for the strength to get rid of it. I dumped it on my bed and sorted through it one last time. In the cellophane from a pack of smokes were a few hits of acid. Album covers. In a small baggie, a few lines of coke. Two rolled joints. And in the last of the baggies, a nice assortment of my favorite pills.

I shoved it all back in the brown bag and grabbed some clothes. I went into the bathroom and locked the door. I sat down in front of that toilet and shook. I swear it felt like I had the devil sitting on one shoulder and an angel on the other. Sweat poured off me like someone was pouring water over my head and my heart felt like it had relocated to my throat.

I emptied the contents of that brown bag on the floor. I grabbed the coke first because I never really cared for the stuff that much anyway. I thought it would be the easiest to flush. The shaking got worse the closer I got to that addiction cemetery. And as my hand hovered above the grave, my breathing became panicked. I have to do this. I need to do this. I kept repeating those sentences over and over. I closed my eyes and thought it all out again. My pep talk wasn't working because I wasn't saying the right thing. It wasn't about having or needing to do anything. It was about wanting to do it. This IS what I WANT. I WANT to be CLEAN. I opened that baggie and poured everything out. I unrolled those joints and dropped it all in. I opened the pills I could and crushed the others and dropped them in. The last to go was the acid. But it did go.

I'm not sure if my mom wondered what the hell I was doing flushing the toilet so many times but she never asked. I just had to make sure it was all gone. When I was done burying my addiction, I stripped to hop in the shower.

If I needed any other reason to quit drugs, I found it all over my body in the form of bruises and cuts and scratches from the attack I had to fight off. Anger finally washed away my panic and fear of having to start my life from scratch, so to speak. And as I washed away the bloody remnants of what their hands had done to me, I plotted my revenge.

Hell hath no fury...

Another mistake

My lack of updates is blamed on my drowning in the book I'm writing. I'm about 70 pages in and it has been consuming every other free minute I have. J gets the rest of my free minutes.

So here we go...Back Then...

It sucks to admit to some of the stupid decisions I have made over the years, but, like I said before, I have no regrets. I lived and learned and that's what living is all about.

I was determined to clean up. And I did pretty good for the first week or two. I had managed to convince everyone that I was too busy to hang out on the weekends and such. It was working but, I admit, it was damn hard. Sometimes you don't realize how bad you are addicted until you try to quit.

Mom helped, even though she had no idea what she was helping with. She thought I was getting the flu or something. And she made sure to keep the vultures away...mostly because I asked her to. When she asked why I didn't want to see them, I just told her that they were starting to annoy me and I needed some space. She respected that and never asked again.

Frank moved away and a new guy moved in. DK was closer to us in age and the few times I talked to him, he seemed pretty cool. He even helped me fix my moms car one morning so she could get to work. (I'm a closet mechanic) Somehow, I confided in him that I was quitting drugs. I'm not sure how we got on the conversation but I'm guessing he was offering and I refused. He seemed cool with that and never pushed again until...

It was the weekend and mom was out on a date. My little brother was staying down at my grandmothers. I had the house to myself and was going stir crazy with urges that were threatening to take me down. I grabbed my guitar and sat out front on the planter, practicing scales and such. Out of all the people I didn't want or need to see, fucking Chris rode by on his motorcycle. When he noticed that I saw him, he did a quick u-turn and pulled up in my driveway.

He quickly tried to explain himself. "I was just in the neighborhood and I saw you sitting here. I couldn't just keep going."

I knew better and I started to wonder if he had been stalking me since he learned where I was living or what. It creeped me out and I shivered with a weird sense of fear. But I couldn't let him know that.

"You're shivering. Are you cold?" he asked and started to move closer.
I put up my hand to stop him. "No. I've been sick."

My conversation with Chris turned into a yelling match and we caught the attention of DK. I had seen him walk out of his house with a friend and they had been watching Chris and I for a while. After I yelled for Chris to leave for the fifth time, DK walked over and put his arm around me.

"Hey, babe. Do we have a problem here?" DK asked, giving Chris a look that would kill.
"No problem. Chris was just leaving." I put my arm around DK's waist to make things look more believable.

Chris finally got the point and left.

"Who was that?" DK asked, taking a seat on the planter beside me.
Who was Chris? The guy that tried to drug me and rape me would have been the best description but I didn't want to say that to DK. "Someone I knew from my old neighborhood is all. Thanks for your help."
"Anytime. That's what friends are for," he shrugged. "You look wound up. How 'bout you come over and we get high."
"No thanks, I quit remember."
He stood and reached out for my hand. "Its just weed. Not addictive and just an herb, B. It won't fuck up your process."

I was stressed and upset from seeing Chris. I was having a hard time fighting the urges. I can give you every excuse there is in the book for why I finally agreed, but none of them are good enough. It was a stupid decision. But we all make mistakes, right?

I put my guitar back in the house and walked across the street to DK's house. I had assumed his friend had left but when I walked in his house, his friend was sitting at the table finishing rolling up the joint. I took a seat on the couch and zoned out on the TV while I mentally tortured myself with questions. Its just weed. It can't hurt me, can it? Should I do this? I've been doing so good. Will this fuck up everything I've been working for? I should have listened to myself when I had concluded that it was a bad idea and I should just leave. But it was already lit and was in my hand. I shrugged and thought, what the hell.

About the fourth time I had that joint in my fingers, I started to feel real weird. My heart was going a mile a minute and I swore I could hear my blood flowing through my veins. The sound was so loud, I could barely hear anything else. I passed the joint and that's when I noticed that DK and his friend weren't really smoking it. This was bad. Real bad.

I stood. I knew I had to get out of there before whatever bad thing they had planned started happening. "DK, I think I've had enough. I gotta go home. Mom's gonna be there soon and I'm supposed to be home sick."
"Nah. Stay, B. Don't worry, we'll get you home." DK shared an evil grin with his friend that made me feel sick to my stomach...or was that the drug.
"Really, DK. I'm not feeling well. My knee has been hurting me. I gotta go." I took a step toward the door and DK stepped in front of me.
His hands were sliding down my back and stopped on my ass. He was holding me to him tight. "I have the perfect thing for your knee. Why don't you take a bath? The warm water will do wonders for your pain."
He licked up the side of my neck and tried to kiss me.

Whatever they put in that joint was kicking in at full force. I was getting so disoriented and I'm sure if the front door wasn't right in front of me, I probably wouldn't have been able to find it. I knew I had to make my move to get out and I had to do it fast.

DK's friend walked up behind me and slid his hands up my shirt. "Yeah, baby. A bath will fix you right up." I felt his hands at the front of my jeans as he bit my earlobe.

I leaned my head forward and threw it back, hitting the guy in the face somewhere. He dropped his hands and stepped away, cursing and making threats. I took another step toward the door and DK grabbed me, pulling my hair, exposing my neck as he bit down.

"I promise I will make you feel good," DK whispered, loosening his grip just enough.

I was sure my heart was about to explode and, any minute, I was going to be so far out of it that they were going to get what they wanted. I raised my knee, making full contact with DK's crotch. He went back against the wall and I moved as fast as I could toward that damn door. I had to reach it. I had to get out of it and back to my house. I had to.

My hand was on the doorknob when DK's friend grabbed my arm and twisted me around to face him. I was stuck between him and the door. "Let us help you feel better." He kissed me hard, knocking my head against the door.

I saw little stars and shit but I couldn't let it stop me. I kneed him just as hard as I kneed DK and he went down to his knees. I twisted the door knob but the door wouldn't open. It was locked and I couldn't think clear enough to figure out how to unlock it.

DK's friend made it to his feet, pushing me face first into the door. His hands were ripping at my jeans, scratching my skin. I kept trying to unlock that fucking door. I had to keep trying. I got it!

DK's friend turned me around to face him. He shoved his hand down the front of my jeans. "I'm gonna fuck you until you bleed," he growled.

He had both his legs between mine, so I couldn't knee him again. So I reached for his balls, grabbed them, and squeezed until he screamed like a woman. He let me go and DK was heading our way. I flung the door open, slamming it on DK and ran as fast as I could. My pants were falling down, my shirt was ripped, but I kept running until I got in the door at my house.

Reality was fading so fast. Nothing was easy. I ran to all the doors and tried to make sure they were all locked. I got to my bedroom, locked the door, and pushed my nightstand in front of it. I checked my window, then collapsed on my bed.

I was sure that I was dying but I was so afraid to try to make it to the phone. They knew I was home alone. There was no way I could fight them anymore. I watched my chest as my heart attempted to beat out of it. The sounds of gushing, thick liquid filled my head. I could no longer feel my body. And I was out.