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Lost
[previous] :: [next]Lost Susie wakes up, once again not knowing where she is. Her head pounds as if a drummer has taken up residence in her brain, each beat of her heart causing another painful drumbeat. She looks across the filthy bed, sees a stranger with a smile on his scarred face, his matted and unkempt hair dangling. She shudders involuntarily as she notices the needle marks in his arm. She looks among the scattered detritus of the previous night, bottles of vodka and beer, hoping to find one that is not completely empty, so that she may chase away the drumbeats once again. There must be fifty bottles here, and she wonders who else was there that night. Finally she finds a vodka bottle with a couple inches of happiness inside. She takes a long pull from the bottle, and feels the heat relacing the drumbeats. Susie goes to the bathroom and looks in the mirror, and sees the ghost of the little girl she once was in the hollowed-out eyes now surrounded by dark circles. Whatever happened to that little girl, so full of hope and happiness, laughing and skipping while clutching her prized Barbie? Now she looks thirty-five, yet she knows that is not true. She reaches up to her cheek and delicately touches the yellowing bruise there, wincing as she does so. It is healing so slowly, but it is gradually getting better. She checks her body slowly, and is glad to see she has no new bruises today, except for a hickey on her breast. Maybe this stranger is not as bad as the others, she thinks. Then she remembers the needle marks, and she knows she must keep moving on. She spies a condom wrapper in the wastebasket, and heaves a sigh of relief. Once again, she may have managed to escape the death sentence. She knows she should get tested, but is too afraid and ashamed. She goes back to the bedroom and starts trying to find her clothes. Finally dressed, she tries to wake her new friend, so she can ask for bus fare to the soup kitchen. He snores loudly and will not wake up, no matter what she does. She sees his pants on the floor and goes through his pockets. Eighty-five dollars and a bag of rock. She takes sixty dollars and half the rock. She knows if she leaves him something, he will be mad, but will forget in time. If she takes it all, he will hunt her down and kill her. Susie makes her way out of the apartment and onto the street. She has no clue where she is, but as she rounds the corner, she sees a statue she recognizes. She is only a mile from the park she met him in, no need for a bus today. The sky is blue and beautiful today, but she does not notice. She makes her way past the college to the soup kitchen downtown. As she passes the college, she sees the beautiful girls staring at her with disgust, and she averts her eyes in shame. If only they knew that she was once like them, full of dreams and ambition, the whole world at her feet. Her eyes tear up as she remembers coming home with a report card, her lowest mark a A minus. She can still hear the voices of her teachers in her head, telling her to apply for the academic scholarship to the best university around, because she was sure to get in. It was all so long ago. Only fifteen years old, and she was already on top of the world. She remembers that night, after she went to bed. The drunken breath of her father in her face, the shameful things he did. After that night, she never slept the same again, always fearful of those nights when he would drink, for she knew he would wind up doing it again and again. Her marks dropped suddenly, but she did not care. Nobody asked what was wrong, no matter how much she quietly wished they would. Nobody cared. Finally, she could take no more, and she left her small town hiding in the back of a pickup truck. She made her way to the city, and did whatever she had to to survive. It all seems so long ago now. Susie is wise to the ways of the streets today. She pulls her head back up, and sees the door to the soup kitchen ahead. She enters, and waits in the line, so many others with stories like hers standing there with her, all of them silent. Salisbury steak today, not bad at all. At the end of the long counter, she sees a special treat. Bran muffins. She grabs one and puts it in her pocket. She hurries to a table and eats her salisbury steak, then rushes out the door. Susie sits down on a park bench and looks around. She is surrounded by humanity in a place she knows well, yet she is completely lost and alone. She wants to smoke some rock, but she hates smoking it alone. Nobody sees her, so she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the muffin. She looks at it and smiles, then reaches into her other pocket and pulls out a bent little candle from a discarded cake she found in the trash last week. She cleans the candle as best she can, then puts it in the muffin and lights it. Nobody hears her as she quietly sings. Then she sits back and eats the muffin quietly. Maybe things will change today. Maybe she will meet a man who can give her a good life. After all, today is her nineteenth birthday. This article has been viewed 1478 times in the last 40 months jack: 17th Mar 2007 - 01:31 GMTvery good writing eg sad story i've known girls who lived that life i want to beat up fathers who do those things to their little girls i know one father i shouldn't call him a father a worthless man i cry for those girls i want to hold them and tell them they can change their lives the worst thing a human being can do is hurt a child as i read the story i saw it coming the birthday and all good story though. Peter: 17th Mar 2007 - 01:53 GMTShe is surrounded by humanity in a place she knows well, yet she is completely lost and alone... i liked that line. i feel that way sometimes in my city, increasingly often this winter; its an inevitable part of a post-postmodern urban existence, i guess. i like the text entries. theyre far too few, if you ask me... Peter: 17th Mar 2007 - 01:54 GMTalso, exactly as i expected, the goo for this entry jumps straight to the tv show, 'lost'... EvilGentleman: 17th Mar 2007 - 02:04 GMTjoey - sometimes, a picture can show a thousand times more than words can, and other times, a picture cannot even begin to describe the horror of reality. This is one of those cases. I probably have about 20 or 30 pictures that would actually go quite well with this article, but I will never in a million years put them online, those poor women have suffered enough already. jack - you understand very well, once again my respect for you grows. The story here is played out every day, often by people I know personally. I thought of it after seeing another article on here, and I realized that so many people I know have such a hard time, so I tried to write from what I feel is their perspective. When you know many people like I do, it can be hard. One friend is talking about possibly opening his business up to franchisees, and another is lying drunk on the sidewalk. An old friend now has an estate with room for his daughters to ride their horses. A different old friend discovers she has HIV from sharing needles. The many paths life can take, I see it all. Sometimes, I wish I did not, but I know I must pay attention, so I know what to keep my kids away from. The abuse is an all-too-common feature, I partly took that part of the story from my wife's personal experiences. Luckily, she is still able to function, and actually does a good job at the office building she works at. She is so strong, and I love her for it. And of course, when she gets weak, I am there for her as well.
EvilGentleman: 18th Mar 2007 - 01:30 GMTI am also not much of a TV watcher. I take it from the comments that there is some TV show named Lost? Honestly, I never heard of it, although we probably get it here, since we get most American networks on TV here, and those we don't get (HBO, Disney, etc.)usually have their most popular shows franchised to Canadian networks. Comment on this article..[previous] :: [next] |
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