H: Chapter Fourteen

Five days. Five days of non-stop decadent, hedonistic, euphoric, body-relaxing, mind-numbing, highs. Five days of constant injections and flying. Five days of spending hours in a stall. Five days of sleeping in abandoned houses. Five days of needles being pressed into your veins. Five days of the best euphoria, better than you or anyone else can imagine.

Over the span of one day, we delivered the tractor to the dealer, and made it back to Pittsburgh where we had left the van at. You should try driving down a high-way in a slow tractor. There’s nothing you can while you’re forced to go at twenty-five miles-per-hour as every car on the road honks and bitches at you. But it was worth it. We ended up getting fifteen-grams of H for the tractor. Originally he wanted to only give us five. He raised that after I tried to plant my fist into his skull. At the last second, Jack grabbed my hand and shoved me down into my seat.

This exchange kicked off the five days mentioned prior. During those five days we subsisted off a diet of only cigarettes, caffeine, heroin, and self-hatred. Each morning we would all chug an energy drink, and then find a nice secluded spot to shoot up in. We would spend the entire day shooting up. Needle after needle. High after high. Then the next day we’d move to another spot, and rinse and repeat. Sometimes it was an abandoned shed, or a seedy gas-station bathroom. There was nothing better in the world to us than black. It is truly, the only thing that could get a man to give up his kids, job, sex, and wife. Or, husband, if you’re into that.

Sometimes after the high, I’d forget where I was. I would then turn to Travis and ask. To which, he’d reply, “I don’t fucking know dude. Why’re you asking me?” while busy tying a rubber band around his arm.

Then Jack would chime in and say something like, “I feel like I’m in the warmest bath,” while humming like a bird.

Thomas would then say, “It’s all about the mind. If you concentrate extremely hard on the high, you will make it stronger.”

One of these days, we found ourselves in an abandoned truck-stop, holed up in the bathroom. Spiders crawled out from the dusty air-vents, and the area had the smell of rust and shame. I looked around and saw Travis was slumped up against the wall, pouting. “What the fuck’s up with you?” I asked.

Travis looked down at the ground for a moment, gathering his words. “We burned down that farmer’s land. We might’ve killed him.”

“You can’t worry about that shit.” I said. “Maybe he shouldn’t have had a prized tractor, in an unlocked, barn.”

Jack snickered and said, “That’s the stupidest logic I’ve ever head. But, Payte has a point, Travis. You can’t worry about that shit. What’s done is done, and we got H out of it.”

Travis stood up and clenched his fists. He stuck his head out and yelled, “You guys are fucking sociopaths!”

I chuckled and said, “Oh, stop your whining.”

Tears of red hot rage flowed down Travis’s cheeked. He flipped me off and yelled, “Fuck you, Payte! I’m getting out of here.” He moved towards the door and opened it. “Fuck you all!” He screamed, then slammed the door.

Jack sighed and slumped up against the wall. He pulled the syringe out of his arm and looked at me. “Payte, why do you gotta be such an asshole?”

* * *

Jack is sleeping on his twin-mattress in his dorm when there’s a knock on the door. It jolts him awake and he sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes with the sides of his hands. “Who is it?”

The door slowly opens as warm light from the fluorescent bulbs in the hallway creep through. A shadowy figure stands in the hallway. Jack recoils to his bed-frame and freezes.

“It’s Miles.” The figure calls out.

Jack breathes a sigh of relief and finally relaxes. “Well turn on the light then.”

Miles switches on the light and the fan starts spinning as well. A cool breeze is created, wiping away the smell of stale cigarettes that the last patient smoked in there. “I got kicked out of here, man.”

Jack’s face drops. “What? How?”

Miles looks down at the floor and frowns. “For hitting on Sarah Ass and, well, the macaroni dick.”
“Oh… sorry.”

Miles shrugs, “Eh, what can you do about it?” Miles looks around absentmindedly, trying to formulate words together that sound like an adequate goodbye. When he finally has them he smiles and looks at Jack, “But hey, during the meeting, she was looking at me like she wanted it.” He lets out a chuckle and it’s apparently contagious because Jack starts laughing as well.

“I’m gonna be outta here, but… I want you to promise me something. Alright?”
“What is it, man?”

“You’ll get clean, right? You’ll stop smoking weed and… doing a bunch of other shit?”

“Yeah… I will.”

* * *

A LETTER JACK WROTE IN REHAB TO HIS DRUG OF CHOICE

Dear Mary,

I am writing you today to tell you same sad news. All these years together we have head a one way relationship. There were times were you held my hand and helped me forget about my troubles; since day one whenever we would make love it was me just using you for the way you made me feel and ever since then I could just use you whenever and not have to worry. as I got older we started a family of friends who were always there for us, and supported our relationship. So now after a year of blossoming I have to let you go at first I was not ready to say goodbye but now I realize just how much I depended on you. now that I think upon it thats exactly what i do to any living thing.

I first meet someone become friends and if they dont help me feel good than I ditch them if they make me feel good i use them until myself or them just cant take it.

but back to you Mary. When life felt dark and grey you always lifted my spirits. The times when I’d hold my gun to my head crying or when I was just ready to end it all you would take my hand and walk me to a friends house so I could feel needed. But a couple of times we’ve gotten in trouble and you just walked free when I had to go to jail. Where were you? You did not bail me out or tell me it would be ok and that I’d make it in one piece that is only one factor that remains a common between us.

there is always someone out there who just dont like you, or me. And a couple times you came btween me and my dad. She knows not to ask me to choose between you too. I like it when you help me heal and forget about all the shit in this crap filled life, I dont want to leave you for good but you have to know we cant be together every hour or second of everyday. Latly I’ve just been letting you tuck me in at night but to be honest your not helping me get sleep or feel normal and not depressed anymore and It seems like my memory is getting better. What’s going on? I don’t want to remember my past. Why the fuck do you do this to me, is it my fault? That I remember people and things I hate?

I promise you that the problem is me not you and maybe if I just didnt take advantage of you we could stay together but here is my departure so thanks partner.

When I die and go to hell I will still cherish what we had even if hell isnt one big party and I am tortured and burnt to dust. I still love you. Good bye Mary, my first love.

Love truly,

Jack DeMarcy

* * *

“How are you doing, Jack?” Dr. Sarah Mass says. Jack lays across from her on a white couch. His eyes dawdle and twitch around the room. On the wall there’s a degree in a wooden frame, but Jack can’t make out what it says. He guesses that it’s something in psycho-therapy. Maybe the doctor’s had family that dealt with addiction, or maybe she dealt with addiction herself. After all, to really understand addiction it’s something you have to get a first-hand experience of it.

“Good, I guess.” Jack fidgets with his thumbs as he speaks. His nails are untrimmed and kind of disgusting. There’s a lot of dirt underneath them, making them have little dark spots.

Dr. Sarah Mass crosses one leg over the other whilst holding a clipboard in one hand. There’s two pens in her breast pocket, one’s red and the other is black. “Are you sad that Miles got kicked out? I know you two were friends.”

Jack shrugs, “More acquaintances than friends. Or maybe that’s a lie, I don’t know.”

“There’s something bothering you, Jack; I can see it on your face.”

Jack sits up and stares at the doctor. She flips her dark-brown hair around her ear. “There’s always something bothering me, and usually there’s no reason for it. After a while, I guess I just got used to it.”

Dr. Sarah Mass has this bad habit of picking at the zits on her face. She sits forward, maintaining eye contact with Jack. “There’s something that caused you to fall into drug addiction—“

Jack snickers, “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep and I found some edibles at my Uncle’s place and ate them. That’s it, nothing else.”

“That may be true,” Sarah starts, but she is interrupted when a fly lands on her arm. She smacks it away and continues, “But then there was something else that made you want to use it as an escape.”

Jack nods, “That’s true…” He says, just barely audible. Jack sits up and looks at the doctor, smiling maliciously. “I think the reason I smoke weed is… to stop the thoughts about my uncle…”

“Your uncle?” Dr. Sarah Mass says.

Jack looks down at the ground and smiles. “Yeah… my uncle.”

Dr. Sarah Mass tilts her head down and writes something down on the clipboard, using the red pen, just before crossing something out in the black pen. She looks up at Jack who is rubbing his shoes together in a kind of nervous way. “We’ve had these daily sessions for about two weeks now. But today, I want to try something else.”

Jack freezes for a moment and his eyebrows raise ever so slightly. He spreads his arms open, a subconscious act of inviting the conversater to get on with it and talk to the conversatee. “What is it?”

“Hypno-therapy. Have you ever tried that?”
Jack shakes his head.

“Well, do you want to try it?”

Jack nods. “Yeah, if it’ll help.”

Dr. Sarah Mass places her clipboard on the desk next to her chair and sits forward. “I want you to close your eyes and take a deep breath.”

Jack inhales slowly and holds it.

“Now exhale.”

Jack exhales and it sounds like a gust of wind blowing right on your face. It’s like a really low whistle.

“Now do a couple more.” The doctor’s voice is s soft and quiet, it’s almost like she’s whispering right in his ear.

Jack takes a few more deep breaths and soon his entire body is relaxed. His legs aren’t even doing that weird, kind of painful, twitching thing.

“I want you to go back to your Uncle. Bring him to the forefront of your mind.”

Jack lets out a kind of stiff grunt. He slightly opens one eye to look at the doctor, who is luckily looking the other direction.

“Okay..” Jack whispers softly.

“What is he doing?”

“He’s… coming closer.”

“Alright…”

“He’s walking towards me…”

“Mhmm.”

“He’s….” Jack opens his eyes and lifts his leg up, letting out a big fart. Dr. Sarah Mass stares at Jack with dismay.