Posted by nrm on 12/3/2006, 5:29 pm, in reply to "saving the dead ( part 1)" I ended up moving into this house full of scabie filled heroin crack junkies in down town Lansing. I stole for money. I mooched and told lies for money. I did whatever I had to do to get a fix. Losing 80 pounds in 3 months. I was on a permanent death wish high, yet still, some days, I thought of Rebecca’s beautiful smile, I thought of her grandiose hips and tight little box of love. One day after being beaten up by a bunch of black gangster dealers I owed money to, and almost at the point of death, after drinking a keg and shooting what seemed like an ounce of coke, I broke down and called my father, crying, whacked out of my mind from being up for a week on crack and heroin, a never ending cycle of certain death.. “Dad? Fuk. I’m so sorry your only son is a loser. I’m going to kill myself tonight, I cant take this shit anymore, my mind is going in circles that lead to just the same circle. I’m sorry dad, im a total fuk up.. And and…” “Son, come home, we will get you some help, don’t give up on life, just come on home…” he said, even sounding gulpy himself. “Thanks dad, I love you” I said. for one of the first times in my life, tears rolling down my face, thinking of Rebecca and an early grave, crazed out of my skull because of my non stop drug trip death wish thing I was doing with soulless zombie people. I felt pretty fuking gay and stupid the next day when I woke up out of my depressed drunken drugged out haze of self pity, and in a flash it all came back to me. I started packing my things to move back in with my tortured parents. I was a nightmare son. The complete reason why people should never have kids. One thing that got me in a happier mood while driving back to the muddy river city, was thinking of visiting Rebecca when I got home. I didn’t care if Bryan was dating her. As long as they were happy and in love. And as long as he treated her with the respect she should be treated with. I couldn’t give her my heart or my love, so maybe my psychopath so called friend Bryan had filled in for me and made her happy. Soon as I walked in my parents door, my mother had a newspaper in her hand, shoving it in my panicky junkie face. “Weren’t you friends with this Bryan guy?” she questioned The front headlines read…. “Muddy river girl found dead, suicide or homicide?” “What the fuk mom.” Going back into my old room to try and relax and read about this shit. I got this empty sad feeling in my gut, and almost left my body, thinking it wasn’t real. That this was some twisted movie like me and Rebecca use to watch. One that we would never finish. Tears wanted to form, but they didn’t. the police had Bryan locked up while the investigation took place. Months went by. I even drove by her old apartment, but there was police tape all over the scene. I cried a lot and wanted to talk to Bryan to see what had really happened to a girl I should have loved. But he was in lock down until the investigation was finished. It was huge headlines for months in the small Michigan town. I remember crying a lot going to rehab again, and stupid NA meetings. I also wondered about Fred. Rebecca loved Fred and she wouldn’t want Fred to suffer ever. I even remember one night after we made love, she started in on one of her new elephant paintings, and while she painted it, while I sucked away on a bong, she said something about her daddy touching her when she was young, then she quickly changed the subject, brushing into the new elephant… and with her sad blue eyes, turned to me, asking me that if anything ever happened to her, if I would take care of Fred. So I got lucky driving around all day one day in a total panic after getting out of another useless rehab….searching for Fred… and finding him on the day of his execution at a pound, and rescued him from the gas chamber, or however they kill animals these days. I tried to get some of Rebecca’s’ elephant paintings off her grieving mother, but she wouldn’t even return my phone calls. Her possibly molesting father had died of alcohol problems years before. I got totally sober for a while and was starting to get my life back on track when I read in the paper one day that Bryan had been released from jail for lack of evidence. Half the town wanted him dead, me especially. But that grimey mother####in psychopath split town with out ever having to answer my questions. I knew that fuking jerk did it. & sometimes, late at night, when I stare into Fred’s eyes. I can see Rebecca’s tears as she rides bloody elephants through dream worlds of what may be an afterlife.
Message modified by board administrator 12/4/2006, 7:47 am
Fuk Rebecca. She didn’t love me, acting all flirty with Bryan like that. And fuk Bryan too, he was no friend. I was going nutty on my own self pity trip.
A big shot of heroin gets rid of all that nonsense worry. Fuk them both. They can have each other.
He interrupted my little girly druggie crying fit…
I said, grabbing the newspaper off her.
It said Rebecca was found with her throat slit laying naked, surrounded by all her elephant paintings in a pool of her own blood, That her boyfriend, Bryan, claimed he found her like that, and that it was a suicide.
I was sort of freaked out by the entire display of crazy emotion. But I too shed a tear, and said “ Of course I would take care of Fred.”
Fred meowed at me, thanking me, the entire drive back to my folks. Fred was a good cat man. And Rebecca. Well. She may have been my soul mate I threw away. And a grown man cries again.
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