11A/N: This is not a story. This is a piece of my life that I will never get back. This is an exercise recommended to me by my crisis councilor, and a therapist, as they believe me to be somewhat artsy, I guess. I decided that if I was going to do this thing I wasn't going to just write it and then hide it. If I hide it I'm afraid of it. And so, I'm moving forwards, and I'm jumping in with both feet...
I have a simple question for you: have you ever felt alone? And I don't mean have your friends ever left you out of the line during red rover, or went to a party (and had a lovely time, I might add) while you remained at home with your obese, poorly aging aunt and her complaints of bodily discomforts. I mean crushingly, desolately, irrevocably alone? Have you ever felt like you were standing in a room surrounded by hoards of people screaming your head off only to have them continue on their jolly way, leaving you to fight monsters living in the depths of your subconscious? Have you ever felt like you were trying to breathe underwater? Have you ever experienced the earth shattering isolation one can only impart on oneself in an act of masochistic self punishment? Congratulations, you're a human being. You win the prize for being just like everybody else. Myself included.
Don't think for an instant that I hold myself above such human behaviours as self-pity, self-depreciation, and occasional self-loathing; I truly don't.
My name is entirely unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but I suppose for fluidity sake you can refer to me as B. Only B. No pretentious middle names, or history-promoting surnames. Everyone referred to in this piece of scrap is a real person, and as such has a real name; but that doesn't interest me.
Let's get our basic letters down, then, shall we? My name is B, and I'm from a family of five (middle child, of course) A, is my father; L, is my mother; K, is my older brother; and H, is my younger sister. My appearance is of little consequence so let's just graze the tip iceberg on that one and just say I'm a decent looking woman; tall, blue eyed, blonde, and curvy.
Now, the first question to a piece like this is where to start?
Well, I have a notion, and that is to begin exactly where the idea to write this began. Now, is this going to be a harrowing tale of love and conquering? Definitely not. This, I'm starting to think, is a tale of one little soul trying its hardest not to get washed away in the tide.
It all began on a Saturday night, approximately seven twenty-five in the evening, I was on my way to a friend's house, ready to reign in another year of debauchery and dramatics for her, trying to follow my MapQuest directions, snarling and grinding my teeth as I found myself driving blindly down the streets and avenues. My phone kept buzzing in my pocket as she repeatedly demanded if I was nearby, via text and call.
"R, I'm going to be there soon. I just can't find your goddamn street."
"Well what street are you on now?"
"Seventeenth and Eighteen-A." I sighed, having memorized the little strip, as I passed various signs advertising this fact. R quickly prattled off a few little turns and straights to make and I was on my way after I hung up. Turning onto the proper street (nearly ten blocks away…) I flipped open my phone and called my hostess, letting her know I was in front of the building. I had a little Mickey of Bombay Sapphire tucked away into my handbag and grinned as the elevator doors opened and she appeared with another girl in tow. Squeals, hugs, laughs, I-missed-you's and such were passed quickly, along with introductions to her friend who I didn't bother to remember the name of, and we quickly made our way up the elevator and wandered into her new apartment.
There was no furniture anywhere, just a picture lying against the wall-the kind you buy at Ikea of a Paris scene for forty bucks-and one little bench off to the side and a Mac laptop on the floor playing remixed top 40's. I was introduced to everyone in the room, though there were few to mention, only about six of us thus far.
R showed me around the newly acquired apartment, giving me the grand tour of the whole four rooms, and the little balcony with the white metal railing. Not bad for a first place, I had to admit. I had been to other friend's houses and discovered they were better off living in a dumpster…though I tried hard to keep those thoughts to myself.
Wandering back into the kitchen, R pointed at a spot I could drop off my bottle of gin and whatever mix I brought. I felt like slapping myself on the forehead. I forgot to bring mix. Shit.
"Dude, I forgot: I need to pick up some soda." I told her with a huff. R and her roommate-girl in hot pink shirt-started tossing ideas of where was the best spot, each farther away than the last. Obviously they hadn't been in this area long enough. We were right next to seventeenth avenue, one of the major teenage to early twenties hangouts in the city, with ridiculously expensive and trendy shops, and damn good gelato. "There's a Shoppers Drug Mart like…fifty feet from here. I'll be right back." With my purse (a beautiful Puma I got on employee discount the day before I quit the worst job ever) clutched to my side, I left the apartment and took the ride back down the elevator and headed back to my cute little Ford Ranger. It wasn't far before I parked the truck and headed in to the store, grabbing a bottle of diet 7Up, and Coke Zero. Coke mixes terribly with gin in my opinion, but I thought someone else could use it.
The night progressed steadily and I got that sinking feeling of awkwardness I despise getting. The apartment filled up a little more, and a little more until there were about fifteen or so people standing around chatting like old friends. I only knew R and she was never one to stick around with one person for long, being the little social butterfly that she was. She was rushing around mingling and laughing loudly, flushed in the cheeks and joking about how she had been drinking since four in the afternoon. I checked my cell phone. It was now nine. Okay, so she was drunk and having a fantastic time with her friends, and I was still stone cold sober and not. I took a deep gulp out of my red plastic cup and sighed.
A rather heavy set girl in a hoodie saddled up next to me at the sink and grumbled about how she didn't know anybody here and how shitty it was. Oh god, I had someone to talk to finally. Turning to her and sighing that I was in the same boat we formed an immediate kinship. She started rambling on about some light show they were doing on the river tonight, and I feigned fascination in the prospect out of fear of abandonment and having to start all over again. Hot pink roommate appeared munching on McDonalds and leaned against the oven as we changed the subject to something idle and lacking any form of dimension, the way strangers do. Soon Pinkie and Chubby were both talking animatedly about this light thing and going on about how totally awesome it would be to see it.
Awkwardness returns tenfold. Fantastic.
Sighing silently I leave the kitchenette to stand around in the living room like the world's biggest loser and take the last sip out of my now empty plastic cup. A little tingle of heat began to permeate the surface of my cheeks. I quickly moved back towards the kitchen and snagged my bottle, pouring a liberal splash of gin into the bottom of my cup. Pinkie laughed, saying she couldn't stand that shit the way most people do whenever I bring it anywhere. I had to admit that at first sip (when I was about fifteen) I thought gin tasted like Muskol, but I had quickly grown a fondness for it. Girls always like Vodka for some reason. I personally can't stand that stuff; it makes me squirm. Too much of it in high school, I think.
I finish this cup as slowly as the first, I feel my cheeks start to flame up. Odd. I only had two. It usually takes me a while before I slide into a state of drunkenness. Feeling suffocated I step out onto the balcony, passing through a haze of cigarette smoke and conversations I'm not part of. Leaning against the rail, looking over the edge, four storeys below, I shift uncomfortably. Some random guy comes up to me and strikes up a conversation I try to stay a part of, but quickly realize he's just talking to himself with me as an observer, looking for no response whatsoever except for the occasional nod of a head.
The earthy scent of marijuana soon lingers into my space and I look around the balcony, wondering who lit a joint, or is smoking a bowl. I don't see anyone. Great, reefer. Some mildly dorky looking guy catches my gaze and talks in that breath-held voice you only use when you're smoking something intoxicating.
"Want some, Blondie?" He asks, blowing a little string of smoke. He's holding what looks like an oversized cigarette, but when he taps it I realize it's made of metal. "It's a pipe." He offers, noticing my curious stare. "Totally sick, right?"
"Sure." I nod, inching away from the babbler, and sliding up next to the dork in the stupid hat offering me drugs. Well, really: who would you choose? He gets the pipe ready for me and hands me the tube and a lighter. Maybe this will loosen me up a bit. Make me a little more social. I put my drink on the ground and put my lips to the mouthpiece and light up, pulling in gently. I hate being that person who coughs their face off for twenty minutes after the first inhale. It's an embarrassing position to be in. I blow out some of the earthy smoke and take another pull. Passing the outfit to my left, the babbler grabs it from me and starts in. The circle completes and I stand around with the group of about five guys all chatting and laughing about their cars. Dork-hat turns to me and asks whether or not I go to school. Feeling a little loosened up now, I respond.
"Nah. I'm usually mediocre in school, so I work." This is true. I get too easily distracted to be a good student. I'm not stupid; far from it, but I do have a hard time forcing myself to enjoy the magic of triangles, or plant cells. It's actually too bad; I always go in with such good intentions.
"Where do you work?" He looks kind of glazed over, and he's probably half a foot shorter than me, but I haven't had a decent conversation in three hours and I was getting a little desperate. Forgive me, but I have a hard time taking exceptionally short men seriously, for some peculiar reason. Probably because I'm over five eight, and I don't like it when they're breast-height.
"Corporate building." Also true. I do shipping and receiving, focusing primarily on international shipments and customs for an industrial clothing company.
"Like a secretary?"
People always ask me that. It's like the thought of a pretty young woman being anything other than a phone-grabber or a coffee-mule is beyond their comprehension. "Sort of." I say. Not at all, I mean.
"Cool, cool." He nods. "I work in a store downtown."
Of course you do. Bongs and Such, perhaps? "What store?"
"The Hemporium." He grins.
Of course you do. I see this going nowhere fast, but dammit if I don't try to work with what I've been given. "That's sweet. Get good discounts?"
He laughs and winks at me and tells me to come down sometime and he can help me get a good deal.
Oh god. Never mind. I grin, all teeth, and manage to extract myself from the conversation. It's getting cold so I tell him I'm stepping back inside and head into the house, drink back in hand, taking a mighty chug. The second my foot touches the carpet I slam into a wall of heat. It's thick and heavy, settling over me like an oversized blanket, and I immediately drop the shoulders of my hoodie down to my elbows, leaving only my thin tank.
"Hey Blondie, come do a shot." Some random tells me as my eyes flutter once and sweat breaks out over my whole face. I'm lead into the kitchen area I note through my hazy eyes and someone sticks a jigger into my hand. "Appleton." He tells me. I wouldn't give a damn if it was straight out of the fountain of youth. I was starting to feel exceptionally weird. I knocked the shot back after someone slapped me on the back and there were cheers around me. "Another?"
"None for me, thanks." I slurred, waving my hand too fast, my wrist limp. The sweat was beading on my forehead now, it was so damn hot in here.
"Hey B, are you having fun?" R said as she appeared next to me, nudging me with her shoulder and grinning.
"Uh-huh." I nodded. "Hold on. It's…really warm in here." I escaped out onto the balcony again and I immediately shouldered back into my hoodie, I was so cold. Was there no happy medium?
Some woman came up to me, seemingly way too old to be at a party with a bunch of twenty year olds. She was dressed in a trashy way, all huge breasts, acrylic nails painted blue, frosty pink lipstick, thick eyeliner, and fake blonde hair. She was probably forty, and smoking a cigarette. "You okay, hon?" She asked kindly, her cold hand settling on my neck, looking worried.
"Fine." I responded, pulling myself up and shoving my hands in my pockets. Get a hold of yourself, you psycho.
"Too much to drink?" She wondered, still looking a little concerned.
"I guess."
"Happened to me all the time." She assured me, as if to placate me. Oddly, it kind of helped me calm down. "How do you know R?"
"We worked together a few years ago." We worked in a bookstore, actually. The pay was bordering on slave wage, but it was one of my favorite jobs so far. "You?"
"Friend of the family." She smiled. "This is…" She pointed to her male companion, spouting off a name I didn't catch. He looked like a pretty generic guy with dark hair and dark eyes. She immediately struck up a conversation and started telling me a story about how she gave up on drinking and was now a proud member of AA, where she met her lovely man-friend. I was actually trying to listen to what she was saying but my mind kept trying to run away and I would find myself fading out for thirty plus seconds at a time, the words she was speaking becoming garbled and nonsensical. I was trying to hold it back but she noticed immediately that my body was jerking and tightening and shuddering wildly beyond my control. "Honey, you're going to freeze to death. Get in the house." She moved out of the way for me and I thanked her as I moved blindly past.
I sat heavily on the carpeted floor and tried to control my breathing, my eyes rolling wildly around my head, and my lids fluttering. A familiar feeling swept over me and I jerked upwards and headed to the bathroom just in time to vomit into the toilet twice. Straightening up I stumbled to the sink after the flush and rinsed my mouth, and looked at my face. I looked insane. My eyes were closing and opening jerkily, sometimes at different times than each other, I was sickly pale and my posture was slouched and swaying. I felt exhausted. Making my way clumsily out of the bathroom I looked around and saw a darkened bedroom I could steal away into. Everything was so loud. I just wanted to get away from everyone else and just suffer alone.
The room blocked out some of the loud talking and laughing and Jenga (yes, Jenga) that was going on in the main room. I dropped to the floor and flopped onto my back, my head never ceasing rolling around from side to side like I was aboard a great ship on a furious sea. I tucked myself right against the closet door, the wood pressing up against my upper arm and fought desperately to keep my crazy eyes open.
A large figure shadowed the doorway, wearing a hat I could see. It was a man's figure, all shoulders and slouching movements. I looked up at him, but my eyes wouldn't stay open, they just kept rolling and fluttering. He came in and squatted down next to me, looking down at me from above, not saying anything. The room was so dark all I could make out was his silhouette from the doorway. I was lifted up, as if entirely boneless, as he grabbed me around the neck and dragged me up to his face and pressed his mouth hard against mine. It wasn't a kiss of pleasure, just angry pressure. I flopped back down onto the ground with a thud as he dropped me and left the room like a shadow. Another wave of nausea washed over me and I rolled onto my knees and darted clumsily to the bathroom.
Hitting the ground on my knees in front of the porcelain bowl I vomited violently into it, my hair hanging in the air, and my body still swaying clumsily from side to side. Another spill into the toilet bowl and I felt my balance give out as I slammed my face into one side of the seat, but jerked back up in an attempt to rearrange myself. It didn't work very well as I nearly fell to the other side and hit my face on the cabinet under the sink. I continued to puke for an indeterminable amount of time, my face sweating profusely, and my makeup streaking the seat where my tears fell. My arms were so weak, and I was overcome with so much exhaustion that I just let go of the seat and fell backwards with a heavy thunk against the wall, my eyes rolling around my head, and not able to fix on any one thing for any reasonable amount of time, no matter how hard I tried.
I closed them for a moment and then jerked back up as I puked yet again, and weakly reached up to flush the toilet. There was a sudden knock at the door. I swayed a few more times, opening my mouth weakly, trying to make a noise. "Yuh?" I finally managed, more a sound than a response. I heard the door being opened and then a voice I recognized as Pinkies.
"Everyone's been looking for y-oh my god, B." She said in a voice filled with so much sympathy I immediately waved clumsily at her and slurred around another mouthful of vomit,
"I's fine."
"Jesus." She whispered, sounding horrified. "R! R! Shit. She already went downstairs. B, can you walk?"
"I's fine." I repeated, not answering her question. "I's sorry."
"It's okay, everything is okay." She said softly, probably trying to soothe me. It didn't work. I was humiliated, and confused. I puked again, and again. She was still standing in the doorway saying, "It's time to leave, B. We have to go. Can you walk?"
"Huh?" I slurred when I finally came up for air.
"The party's over." She said in a tone you usually reserve for speaking to babies and pets. I jerked in surprise. How could the party be over? It was in full swing five minutes ago… I was just out there and everyone had a lot still left in them. I wiped at my leaking mouth and looked over at her, and noted that the entire apartment was pitch black. Where did the time go? Humiliation amplified, I pulled myself up unsteadily and flushed the toilet again. "Are you going to be okay?" She asked, sounding a little frightened. I could only imagine how I looked: makeup running, mouth oozing, eyes pouring, and pale as a sheet. I just nodded and tried to make it look like I was walking to the sink but I really just fell into it. "I'm getting R." She said, her footsteps hurrying away.
I looked up at myself again, rinsing my mouth, and I looked even more deranged than the last time. There was mascara and liquid liner all over my face, my nose was running, my skin was yellowish-gray, and my eyes were red and puffy, and unable to stay open. Every time they closed I would jerk them back open, but one of them wasn't responding the way it was supposed to, never opening more than halfway. My blue eyes were a weird color, and the pupils looked positively fucked, like pinpricks. Pushing myself out of the bathroom, turning off the light, I searched for my shoes, which were the only shoes in the hall now; but no matter how I tried to grab them, I couldn't seem to manage. My depth perception was way off. I would reach for my flats and hit the wall. I leaned up against the wall like I was stuck on the side of a high rise, and inched into my shoes, nearly toppling over a couple of times.
"B?" Someone asked. R.
"I found her in the bathroom like this." Pinkie explained, her tone kind of whispering, like she was afraid of hurting my feelings. I don't think I could feel any shittier at this point, so just bring out the insults. I would just stumble off with a shrug of the shoulders.
"Can you walk?" R asked, sounding kind of worried. I nodded and let go of the wall and nearly bailed onto my face immediately. "Oh my god, B…" R said, sounding horrified and worried. "Oh, B…" They kept saying together as I inched into the hall and swayed against the wall as they attempted to lead me to the elevator with my eyes still rolling. One of them hit the button and I closed my eyes, leaning heavily against the wall.
I opened my eyes and blinked. I was outside, at the front of the building. "Are you going to be okay?" Pinkie was asking again. "Can I leave you here for a minute?"
"I'll jus' si'down." I slurred heavily. I felt her hesitate next to me, like she was afraid of leaving me to defend myself, but she ultimately decided I would be fine and left back into the building. I spread my legs and immediately threw up between them, hoisting my legs up in time to avoid any splatter. I did this a couple more times and clutched at my purse. I looked down at the handbag I was holding and clumsily opened the side pocket, and pulled my truck key out of the bag. I couldn't possibly drive like this, I wouldn't even make it out of the parking space, but I was so exhausted I just wanted to sleep somewhere safe. Safer than an apartment lawn downtown, in any case. I attempted to pull myself up twice with no success, but on the third try I managed to lever myself upright and stumble blindly towards the road.
I vomited twice more on the ten foot journey to my vehicle, and had to use absolutely all of my concentration to unlock my door and heave myself into the driver's seat. I slammed the door shut and locked it, putting the key back into my bag and pushing the seat back into a lying position, ready to finally have some damn peace. Another wave of nausea, and I barely managed to open the door in time to spew out of it. I leaned back into the cab after I finished, and was about to pull the door closed behind me when somebody yanked it out of my grip. Voices appeared next to me. R's, Pinkie's, and some male I didn't recognize.
"Is she going to be alright?" Pinkie demanded.
"B, what are you doing?" R asked, sounding patient but annoyed all at once. "You can't drive home."
"No." I responded, a little insulted that she would even think I would do that. "Shleep."
"She can't sleep in her truck." The male said. "It's not safe out here."
I moaned out in protest as someone suddenly grabbed at me and lifted me out of the truck and dragged me along the road. I heard the door click and slam shut, but my eyes wouldn't open, no matter how hard I tried. It was like they had been sewn shut, and my tongue felt as if it had been Scotch Guarded. No matter how hard I tried I couldn't say anything. Words were racing around my mind at a million miles an hour, but my tongue refused to listen to my brain, like they were no longer connected. I was dragged into a high vehicle with cold leather seats. I flopped heavily to my side, unable to hold myself up anymore, my face hitting the seat with a slap. A male chuckled next to me and I was dragged upwards like a rag doll and he leaned me into his side, holding me securely against his body, allowing me no movement.
Oddly I felt like I could sleep comfortably at this point. I was so tired, and so confused I didn't know what else to do. A large hand gripped my upper arm hard, but then soothed it with a rubbing motion, and did it again, and again. I heard another door open and I recognized R's voice.
"Let's go, P."
This must be her boyfriend's vehicle. I was introduced to him previously that night. The accelerator rumbled and I felt the grip on my arm intensify again.
And when I opened my eyes I was laid out on a mattress, no sheets, no pillows… A man was sitting next to me on the edge of the mattress and I heard a tapping sound. Looking dazedly to my side I saw a big figure making long white lines on a piece of glass. He leaned over and took a deep inhale, his breath jerking in a strange way I had only heard on movies like Scar Face. He put the glass down and shook himself a little bit before standing and turning, looking down at me. The room was too dark to see him, nothing more than the silver glow of a moon coming in through a high window.
High window; okay I was in a basement, then. He moved around me, sitting down next to me on the mattress on the floor, and my head continued rolling around. I felt an odd sensation rippling over my body as he unbuttoned my jeans, and undid the zipper, making quick work of the material, tossing it over me onto the floor. My shirt and bra remained on, even as my panties followed the discarded denim.
Suddenly, as my legs were pried open, I felt a piece of myself vanish. Whoosh. Vacated. And I knew exactly which piece it was, because I was still with it, even as we both turned around, sitting up high on the ceiling, looking down at my own body as it was forcibly entered, and repeatedly defaced. I watched on, completely void of emotions as he pulled out of me and turned me on to my front, slamming my face up against the wall and snarled and yelled at me to do some of the fucking work. To stop being a lazy bitch, and rock back on him like a good girl. I watched on as my face was repeatedly slammed into a wall, my body hanging limp and unfeeling, my right foot resting on dirty laundry. He jerked and slammed into me harder, suddenly releasing me as I fell onto the mattress and got up from the bed.
I remained lying there with no movements whatsoever when he returned and turned me onto my side, wrapping an arm around my chest like we were a couple spooning after making love. I watched on from the ceiling as my body shifted slightly for the first time since it had all started. The arm immediately clasped around my body's throat and started to strangle me.
My legs jerked and I gasped out in discomfort, and he whispered into my hair, sounding content, "Sleep for a while." I nodded furiously, and the hold immediately loosened.
His chest pressed up against my back as he slept and I remained lying there, staring at myself. This was all so odd. I wasn't the kind of girl who did this kind of thing. I never went home with some random, and just let him have his way with me… I would never subject myself to that kind of risk.
And I stared myself in the eyes from the other side of the room, watching my body that I was no longer part of, and oddly...I saw something disappear, something vanish. And it wasn't the piece of me that was watching on this time, it was something else. A piece of me as a human being was just stolen away in a few short moments. Lucky for me, I thought as I questioned the idea of going to work on Monday, and seeing my little sister, H, in the morning, noting the state I was in now, divided into parts...
Lucky for me: I have two faces.
I don't know how that makes you feel, but this is an honest recount of what happened in August.