Falling
BY Roberta Maxwell
Influenced by Ed Sheeran’s “The A Team”
I let out a hysteric laugh, one that sounded foreign to my own ears. I felt numb. Numb and giddy. I felt exotic, ecstatic and exhilarated. I brought the pipe to my nose and sucked in my 3rd batch. The whooping, cheering audience was my fuel. They encouraged me. My audience. I felt like a god; above all and supreme. But that feeling didn’t last too long. Suddenly, I felt exhausted. I tried to shake it away, but it didn’t go. The feeling stayed in my head for a few seconds. And then, I started to fall. Fall into the arms of a stranger. A stranger who lifted me up and took me away.
My eyelids were heavy. They felt like lead. A burning pain coursed through my brain as I tried to sit up. But I couldn’t. I had a hairy arm draped across my naked stomach. I felt dirty. I felt disgusting. I felt disgusted at myself. I pushed his arm off me and dressed myself in my old white shirt and a pair of dirty shorts; covering myself up. The cocaine was slowly leaving my body, but not without leaving its mark. My lungs were burning and it left bitter taste in my mouth every time I swallowed. My lower abdomen burned in pain at the involuntary entrance of the previous night. Trickles of sweat formed on my forehead and I looked around at the alien surroundings. I spotted his purse and took all the money in it. I pulled out his gold rings and pocketed them. He had about $325 in his purse. Enough for this month’s rent, and a bus ticked home.
And a new batch.
But…
No. I would quit drugs. I promised myself. I cannot have another night like this one. I’ll go out and work. I’ll work as a cashier, as anything. Anything but this. Tears formed in my eyes, and my throat was dry. I walked over to the faucet and splashed water at my face, wiping away grime and cheap makeup. Cupping water into my hands, I swallowed a few mouth-full’s. I was barely wearing anything. I went into his cup-board and pulled out a huge coat and wrapped it around me. Then I found a comforter on a shelf and took that along with me. I patted my back pocket and was glad to feel my key inside it. I rushed out of the room before he woke up. As I was leaving, a saw a second door to the left. It was covered by small drawings of houses and suns. 3, faded, wooden letters were hanging on the door; ‘SAM’. I opened the door and saw a middle aged woman and a little boy next to her –who might have been her son- on a small bed, looking cramped and cuddling each other.
Both asleep.
His family.
Yet he did it with me, while I was unconscious.
I found a sharp object and cut ‘No DRUGS’ deep into my skin. The blood was starting to ooze out and I wrapped the cuts in some white cloth and leaned against the door.
My eyes felt hot and wet. I needed to leave. I shut the door softly and went to the main entrance of the house and exited. I needed to get back to apartment down town.
I caught a bus that took me up to central downtown, but not all the way into the inner sections, where I lived. I wrapped the coat tighter around me and started to walk, slouching and covering my face. I walked quickly and made it into my dingy building, and opened the door. It was a shabby place, with dirty floors and walls and a dusty sofa-bed. The taps produced dirty, cold water and the shower was no better. I had 3 sets of clothes, nothing expensive. And empty fridge, barring a can of rotten milk, a cracked egg; and a few beers.
I scrubbed my face with a towel and wore a pair of soft, faded pants. I needed to find work.
About a week passed, and I had gotten a job as an advertiser at the local Burger King. Basically I had to hand out fliers and hold boards. It was a pretty pathetic job but it gave me $25 a day. That is a $175 a week. Enough to feed me and pay my rent. I would get my pay cheque today. After a long day, I went inside the ‘Employee’s Only’ Room and waited for my manager to come in. After a few minutes, a slightly fat man in a suit walked and handed me my money. I hear him close the door. I turned around and counted it. I had gotten an extra $25.
