Category : Books-Non-Fiction

Sub Category : Biography

    I open my eyes to a vague mist clouding my vision. My feet are on the ground but I feel as though I am floating, hovering above the carpet of my living room. I'm high, I can tell. 
     Although I didn’t hear it, I know that someone is knocking on the front door, so I hovered the few steps toward the door. Without peering through the view hole to take a glance at whoever it was, I grab the chrome handle and pull down on it, opening the door. 
    The porch light isn't on so all I can make out is a dark silhouette. It is a girl, I can tell. Her scent reminds me of Brianna, though I know it isn't her. 
    I feel around for the light switch on the left wall. When my fingers find it, I switch the knob up to no avail. I continue to flick it up and down in a repeated motion, though no light came on. 
    “Sorry, the light must be out,” I say to her. 
    I still can't see her face, but I can see her shadow nod and say, “It’s quite alright.”
    It’s quite alright? I only knew one other person than me that talked like that. Right then I knew who it was. I recognize the voice too. It was one I haven’t heard in years.
    I back up to let her in and sure enough, Scarlett walks right inside while she scopes my apartment out.
    “Nice place.”
    What the hell was she doing here? And acting like everything was cool between us. I can recall breaking up with her. Not to mention, the sad attempt at her trying to get me back, with her PG-13-rated pictures she had sent me. 
    “What… are you doing here?” I ask. Though it doesn’t come out like that. It is loaded with slurs and wah’s, like I am Charlie Brown’s teacher. But somehow, she understands me.
    “Oh, I think you know,” she answers in a sexy voice.
    Holy crap, am I going to hook up with her tonight? Despite all the shit she put me through, I know if I can, I will. I’m such an idiot.
    She walks past me and into the kitchen where Bubba is loading up two shots of dope. One for him and one for me. That is, until—
    “Mind if I get in on this?” Scarlett asks, even though I know she's going to take it if I say no. 
    “Yeah, go ahead.” More wah’s coming out of my mouth. I don’t understand how they can perceive what I am saying, when I can’t. Am I that messed up?
    “Except, I don’t want to do it with the needle,” she says, interrupting my thoughts on how bizarre this night was becoming. 
    No needle? What the hell is going on? She is just as addicted to the needle as I am. Right then I notice something familiar on her wrist.
    “Hey where’d you get that bracelet?” I ask.
    It was the same bracelet that Brianna had. A thick, black wristband that reads, “Ruthless.”    
      Brianna had it at a Patrick Wolf concert at Antone’s. She wanted to throw it onstage for him because it was his birthday, she had told me. But she never found the right time until I had spotted it.
      A song had just ended and he was looking our way. “Throw it, throw it!” I yelled. She threw it up and he saw it! He picked it up off the ground and read it out loud into the microphone, then she yelled “Happy Birthday!” out loud, but still in a modest voice. I remember she had the biggest smile on her face. I’d never seen her so happy. 
    But somehow, Scarlett is wearing the exact bracelet, but before she can answer, she had already ripped the needle off, then shot the liquid dope up into her nose. A weird technique known as “monkey-watering.” 
    With a deep inhale she leans her head back to where she can see behind her, but when she pulls her head back toward us, it isn't her anymore. 
      It's Brianna.
    My eyes open up so wide it stings. Along with my stomach which is now down past my knees. My head feels hotter than the stove we were using to light our cigarettes. I turn towards Bubba, but he is no longer Bubba anymore. Somehow the big guy had turned into the tiny Maisie and they both start to laugh maniacally. 
      I back up to the living room and crash into the couch, falling back onto it. 
      That's when I close my eyes to make it stop. 
      Make it all go away. 
      “I love you…” Brianna says. 
      My eyes are clenched tight and my hands are covering my ears. 
      “Stopppitt!!!! Go away!!”
      Blackness. 

    I open my eyes. 
      I’m covered in sweat. 
      I'm lying in a huge puddle of it on my bed. 
      I can see sweat descending my pale chest. It lacks any muscle, so it drips straight down my body. 
    I feel like my body could not produce any more liquid, but I’m wrong, of course. I start producing warm tears as I whimper, trying to get that nasty dream out of my head. It was useless. 
    I’m glad I have a room to myself right now, in detox. Otherwise, I would look like a damn pussy for crying after a bad dream. Even though, that wasn’t any dream. It was worse than any dream or nightmare I ever had because it had seemed so real. I felt like I really was there. 
      Thank God, it had been just a dream, right?