Looks and Drugs

It was cold and dark that night. Every shadow was a void and all lights hurt my eyes as I wandered aimlessly. The stars weren’t there to keep me company. Nobody was. I was just another soul well acquainted with the night. The old haunts, with their familiar depressing wash. This was my existence. Shadows and cold and always alone.

                I had a want. Something that seemed to reach out with a thousand hands, or maybe a thousand hands were pulling at me. Either way, I failed to grab ahold of it. I always think back on the insignificant moments, which must have led me here. It’s never the big things that lead you astray, no it’s only suddenly you realize your life is off track; but it’s a series of choices that seemed right then. Not so much now.

                I could blame a boy or a girl, my own mother. Probably my father. But in the end I remain. So it is me in the end of all things. I had the control at some point. Given it up though. What’s the point when you see you’ve failed?

                My body was aching with the old and the new hues, the cold, the hunger and the emotions. All of it leading me blindly along. Nothing held meaning, nothing. I was a vacant shell. Devoid, absolute. Not one thought crossed through me as I stumbled my way. Or maybe thoughts had been stirring, though they came from pure desire to live and couldn’t be remembered now.

                I finally fainted. I remember how much it hurt hitting the icy pavement and then all was dark. I don’t even know where that happened but I awoke in the hospital. My stench was overpowering the clean chemical scents. I vomited onto my chest. I was hooked into all machines, my body looked filthy compared to the stark whites. I only thought I wasn’t dressed for this occasion. Then I realized I wasn’t dressed at all.

                I reached up and touched my face. The motions hurt my arms, and I put it back down. I wouldn’t be able to tell if I was deformed or not anyway. I started weeping and my head swam back into the memory of the night. The way the man laughed as I bled. And the way he laughed as I crawled out of his house. The money hitting my back in the cold night. I should’ve grabbed it. I looked at my side where he hit me. It was every shade of green, blue and deep purple. I threw up again.

                “You’re awake.” A male nurse walked into the room with a chart. His nostrils were flaring as he was obviously trying to ignore my filth. “Do you know where you are?” he asked. As I wiped my front with a tissue. I thought, do you know what I am?

                “No.” my voice croaked as I answered myself aloud. It sounded broken and strange and it hurt, probably the strangulation. I started crying harder.

                “It’s going to be OK. I can help you. Do you remember how you got here?” He came a little closer, lifting the blanket up to my chest and covering my beaten body as he did. “The police are here to ask you some questions, are you ready to do that?” He looked into my eyes, complete pity filled every dimension.

                I shrugged, but then half way through shook my head. “No. I’m not.”

                “That’s alright. They can wait until you are ready, OK?” he stood to leave the room.