Thursday, April 18, 2013

Just don't cut my face

I completed my 28 days of methadone detox. I was feeling pretty good about myself. When I kicked the $50 a day habit, I was able to slow down. I was sitting on the rocks at the civic center one night. The rocks were part of a public structure with a fountain in the middle. The night breeze in SF changes the water from fountain to hose. We moved higher up to stay dry. I am drinking a 40oz when I find my new boyfriend. He had a black eye and a bald head. These were all the things I needed to know.

My new boyfriend was not a heroin addict. He would drink and lose his mind. He was not used to someone like me. I was not a social person after coming off of a year in a nod. I have maintained by room through a combination of county welfare and tricks. I was recovering from a horrible case of hepatitis A that allowed the county to maintain my welfare checks with just a phone interview.

I am going out. Where are you going? I need money. Chipping again. I thought you got off that shit. I am off of it. At least for a few days. I took some pills Kat gave me. I am okay but I need some money. Don't go. Yes I have to. I'm telling you not to fucking go. You are all fucked up. I will be right back.

As I head out from the hotel, my legs became heavy. How many pills did I take anyway? Two or three? I lost count. I was feeling shaky so I took a few more. I guess I took eight klonopin and three Xanax. As I cross in front of city hall, my vision is more and more narrow. I need money. I am walking with weights in my shoes through six feet of snow. Like a blizzard. I am frozen.

Can you tell me what time it is? What where are you? A few feet down in the stairwell. If I wasn't so close to death from the pills I would have noticed. I am boxed it here. Then I saw his friend at the top of the stairwell. I get this. I saw the kitchen knife. You know what honey, we do not have to do this. I can take my pants off. Please don't cut my face. I need my face, that innocent face that draws men to me. As I stood against the wall, he did his business. He did not need to rape me. I should have seen this a million miles away except I was too loaded to even see.

I'm putting my pants on now. As I sat and listening to him smoke crack and ramble on for what seemed like an eternity, I slid into a fog. Yes, you are right. Maybe I will come see you again. I am leaving now if that is okay with you. I do not need you to walk with me. I'm home now. No, I did not make any money. Yes, I never should have went out. I do not need anyone to hold me. I don't feel anything anymore. I guess you can hold me. i am sorry i did not listen to you. Just don't touch my fucking face.

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