H: Chapter Six

After we sobered up, we packed our things and headed in the van. I decided that we would drive until Bessie ran out of gas, and then try to get by. After all, sometimes life has a way of working itself out.

The thing that was on our minds the most, was the fact that we had no supply. By the end of the drive, we had gone five hours without any weed, acid, or booze. We hadn’t become physically depended on anything, yet, so that was good. But our minds were still constantly on it. At that time, I’d have given anything for just one more drink of vodka or whiskey. I could almost feel the warmth of the whiskey in my stomach.

Weed is a funny thing. The physical withdrawals you get from it aren’t too bad, at least compared to other pharmaceutical sedatives. You just basically have absolutely zero motivation to do anything. You’re also sweating your balls off. Eventually you just get so fucking annoyed you have to hit your pen or pack a bowl. Then you’re back at square one.

We didn’t do acid compared to how much weed we smoked, but we did enough to become mentally dependent on it. When I first did it, I was certain I’d never touch it again for months, simply because the trip can be so mentally taxing. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun to trip, but sometimes shit just gets too much. But no matter how much I told myself I’d take a break from it, I’d end up wanting to do it again the next day.

Sometime during the drive, Jack woke up from his deep slumber and headed for the trunk. He opened it and began to dig through it, furiously.

“Jack?” I asked as I stared into the rear-view mirror.

Jack wiped the sweat from his forehead and, in a tone that sounded like death, said, “What is it? What do you want?”

“There’s nothing back there man.” I said with a frown of disappointment.

Jack sighed and combed his fingers through his hair with great speed. “I know that. But maybe, just maybe, we forgot about something.”

“Just sit down, dude. You just gotta wait a couple more hours.”

Jack sneered and sat down on the seat. “I don’t want to wait, do you realize how much time that is? I’d rather fucking shoot myself.”

Thomas dropped his book in his lap and said, “Jack, you just gotta wait. You can do this.”

Jack raised his middle-finger to us and began diving even faster into the trunk. Moments passed, and he still found nothing. Defeated, he cursed himself and sat back down in his seat.

The rest of the drive was uneventful. Thomas continued reading, Jack banged his head against the steel wall, Travis slept, and I kept my sleep-deprived eyes on the road.

We had just entered Davenport, Iowa, when the gas hit empty. We were running on fumes until I pulled into the back of a gas station. I remember praying that no one would steal it. If that did happen, then we’d be truly fucked.

All four of us needed to piss. It felt like our bladders were about to explode, even though none of had eaten or drank anything in twelve hours. The human body really is weird, I suppose.

We stepped outside and started walking into the gas-station. We laughed and made jokes to each other. The only person who was silent was Jack. There was something on the poor kid’s mind. But he would never tell anyone.

As soon as our backs were turned Jack had completely disappeared. At first, we just shrugged it off, thinking that he was just going to explore the town. But, as we thought about it more, we realized that something was off.

* * *

I am Jack Matthew’s master. I am the one he so desperately longs for. I will tear apart his relationships. I will turn him into a slave. I will make him so the only thing he thinks about is me, and me alone. He may try to fight for his freedom, but the chance of that happening is next to none. The cards were dealt from the start.

Jack sits on a bench, just across from a Jollibees. He sniffs a little and can smell the fried chicken. The saliva glands in his mouth start excreting sticky fluids and he licks his lips. Jack’s eyes become focused and pin-point on the fried chicken. But he knows better than to spend money on food. He’s here for one reason, and one reason alone: to buy a gram of me.

I’ll take care of you, Jack. I’ll make all the bad go away. All the memories in your head, the guilt, the shame, the anger, everything. All of it will go away, all you need to do is serve me. You don’t need your friends. All they’ll do is take you down with them. You need me, Jack, me. Let me flow through you like a river. Let me bite and tear and snag away at you. I need you, and you need me. Let’s be together, forever.

The roads are empty and desolate. Trash litters the road. There’s a certain smell lingering in the air that Jack can’t quite figure out. But he knows he’s smelled it before.

A dove lands in front of Jack, and he stares at it. The dove belts out a little tune, then flies away.

Every ten minutes someone will walk by. They all stare at Jack. Their eyes are like the heads of nails, and their grimaces show only the strongest disgust. They’ll continue staring at my slave until he glares at them with eyes that could cut through steel. Jack’s skeletal frame, his rotting teeth, his boils, his scars, they reveal that he belongs to me. They reveal that he has been broken by life’s cruel whip, and he has only one thing left, me. Then they turn away and leave him to his misery.

Jack groans and thinks to himself, “Everything is shit. Nothing is original, not even people. Deep down everyone would be a murderer if there was no consequences.” His thoughts have that gremlin-type voice where you just spilled a cup of coffee on your new jeans. Or you embarrassed yourself in a social situation for the umpteenth time. It’s that nasally voice in the back of your head that calls you a stupid piece of shit, such a stupid piece of shit. He places his head in his lap and closes his eyes. He just needs to wait a little longer for Santa Claus to arrive, and then he can have me once more.

Jack thinks about how he did have gas money but couldn’t use it. He needed to buy my love instead. He thinks about how, because of his decisions, he and his friends are stuck in a shithole of a town. He realizes that, in the end, all of his decisions only make his life worse. He calls himself an asshole.

There is no safe place on this Earth from the human race. We fuck up everything we touch. The gremlin voice says again. It sounds like it has a pebble caught in it’s throat.

Where is he? The gremlin says again. All I want is some god-damn H. Don’t worry Jack, just wait a little longer and you’ll have more of me. I’ll give you the greatest of love, the type of love you’ve so desperately longed for your entire life. Then, I’ll take it away from you and leave you with nothing. I will always let you down. I will always leave you craving more.

Jack folds his leg over the other and twists his head back and forth like some kind of wind-up doll, like the stupid fuck he is. He clenches his fists and relaxes them slowly. He does this again and again until his nail creates imprints in the palm of his hand. He’s straining his teeth, overcome by pure hedonistic desire. He can’t stop thinking about me, his precious love.

It’s like you’ve just finished running five miles and you haven’t had any water to drink, and all you can think about is how good that next drop of water is gonna taste. Only you’ve run out of your supply, you’re friends think you kicked it, and if you don’t get more soon you’re going to lose it and kill somebody or puke your guts out, probably both. And you can’t keep lying to your friends. You already disappeared today without warning, so imagine what’s going through their heads right now. They probably think you’re a fat fucking disappointment. You let them down again, you piece of shit. You should just disappear and never be found ever again. You fuck up everything you do because your such a stupid pile of shit. You’re a fucking slave to me, you stupid fucking idiot. You dumb fucking ape. How long are you going to keep this lie going? Huh? Until you overdose and die? Then your only friends in this world are gonna discover your pale and sickly body and they’re gonna be crushed. You’re such a pathetic little piece of shit. You should just kill yourself, you fucking pathetic waste of space. Kill yourself. Kill yourself. Kill your—

Jack takes a deep breath and stretches his arms out. It’s that type of breath that you can feel move throughout your entire body. It’s that waver where you just feel at peace for a moment, now that the gray clouds have cleared. His mind is calm now.

Jack thinks about how the universe must be the exhale and inhale of God. He smiles and thinks he must be pretty smart to come to that conclusion. I mean, how many people his age think about those kind of things?

Where the hell is this dealer? The gremlin has turned rabid. It’s consuming Jack. But there’s another voice in Jack’s head. It’s calmer and more organized. Okay, whatever you do, do not think about H. Don’t think about drugs. Don’t think about drugs. Don’t think about drugs. DO NOT THINK ABOUT DRUGS.

I want some H. Yes, Jack. Let me in. Let me crawl and slither through your head. You are nothing and you will always be nothing. You’re such a stupid retard, you know that? You just can’t get enough of me. Can’t you do anything right? All you’re destined to be is just another junkie, another one of my slaves. You’re father was right to beat you, dipshit. You’re mother was right to leave you, who could love you anyway? You’ll die consumed by me. You’ll die cold and alone, with no one to—

Stop thinking about drugs. Stop it. Think about something else. Uh. Um. Oh yeah, Mrs. Marion from seventh grade. Did she ever wear a bra to school? I bet a lot of the teachers hit on her. Oh, how I wouldn’t love to do some— STOP IT. STOP THINKING. SHUT YOUR BRAIN OFF.

Stop shutting me out Jack. Stop leaving me here. Can’t you see I need you? I can help you, I really can. All you need to do is wait a little longer.

Jack slaps himself across the face. The shock and sting is enough to temporarily quiet him down. He takes another extremely deep breath, and feels the cold Davenport air move down his lungs and back out his nostrils. There is nothing to worry about. All is good. All is well. Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.

No it won’t. Nothing will make you as happy as I can. You need me, Jack, you need me. Can’t you see that? I can strip you down and remake you into a new man. A better man. A colder man. A man that can withstand all of life’s challenges, just as long as you let me hold you.

A woman pushing along a baby-stroller suddenly walks in front of Jack. She has long brown hair that dangles down to her ankles and pointy nose. They lock eyes and she grimaces, revealing crooked teeth. What was that glance for? Can she tell I’m a junkie? Do I smell? Yeah, probably. Jack lifts his arm out and takes a whiff of his arm-pit. Jack reels his head back and nearly retches on the ground. He collects himself and looks at the woman again, hoping she didn’t see that.

Snow would make me feel better. No it wouldn’t you fucking dumbass. Is your brain the size of a walnut? You need to walk away, RIGHT NOW. C’mon, you can do this. You can just stand up from the park bench and walk back to the van. Who cares what your friends think? Just stand up, stop being a pussy Jack, and walk back to the van. You don’t want to relapse. You don’t want to relapse. Stand up. Just stand up. Do it for your friends, they’re worried about you. Just stand up. Be a man, stand the fuck up. Why aren’t you standing up? STAND UP. You won’t stand up, dumbass. You need me. You can’t live without me and you know it.

In Jack’s peripheral vision, he sees a man in a gray hoodie walking towards him. He turns his head and they lock eyes. Is this the dealer? It has to be. The man is carrying a brown bag in his left arm. The man smiles, revealing yellow and rotting teeth. He has warts and pimples across his face, his eyes are sullen and crusted with dry rheum.

You see, Jack? All you needed to do was wait. Now you and I can be together once again. Now I can clear the storms in your head. Now I can kill you.

The man takes a seat next to Jack and says, “Hey, are you Jack?”

Jack smells the dealer’s breath and slowly scoots away. “Yeah. You got the H?”
“Oh y-yeah man. I got… I got everything.”

“I just want the H.”

“I got poppers, PCP, acid, shrooms, oxy—“
“I only have money for the H.”
“Just listen to me man. I got DMT, fuckin’ ketamine, chloroform, aerosols—“

“Why do you have chloroform?”

“I don’t know, man. Some people just like that—“

“Okay, never mind, just give me the H!”

The dealer puts his hands in the air, “Okay, okay, chill out Tiger.” He reaches into the brown paper bag and pulls out four grams of H. Jack stares at it as his mouth begins to water. Now that I am finally in his reach, he can’t control himself, his animal instincts have kicked in. Jack grabs the money from his wallet and tosses it at the dealer. He snipes me away and sprints down the street.

He runs past the convenience store, the park with an odd number of swings, and down a bridge. The sun has set, and once more, Jack runs back to me. I am waiting for you Jack. Come closer. Let me defile you. Let me love you, and then leave you with nothing.

Jack gets back to the van when it becomes dark outside. He lays down across the back row of seats and prepares to smoke me. His arm is sore and bleeding from too many injections, so he can’t do it the old-fashioned way.

Jack grabs Thomas’s novel, and tears a page out of it. He places me on it, and pulls out a lighter. He takes out a straw, and hovers it above me. Jack flicks the lighter, and brings the flame closer and closer to me. Once more, we shall joined in beautiful metamorphosis.

When I start smoking, Jack uses the straw to inhale part of me. He falls backwards and smiles as his sad, empty, eyes, finally relax.

I cradle Jack for just a little while. I kiss him, and make him feel okay. Just when he starts finally feeling okay, like a normal human being, I will leave. I will let him down. I will make him crawl on his knees towards me. I will break him and destroy him. I will end up killing him.

* * *

I stood outside the gas-station doors, smoking a cigarette. Thomas and Travis were inside, doing their business. I had seen some run down gas-stations in my time, but this one took the cake. One of the pumps was charred, and had police tape tied around it. My guess, was that some poor fuck was smoking a cigarette while getting gas. Which then caused the poor fuck to go up in flames, along with the pumps.

The whole area stunk like H. You know, that weird vinegary smell? It didn’t help that used needles completely littered the entire area. I could almost imagine some poor druggie scouring each individual needle for their fix. Addictions just render you to your most basic animal instincts. It’s the only thing that’ll make you fuck and kill for it. Back then, I had no desire to do H. I had seen what it does to people.

We had arrived in Davenport early in the morning. Not a single soul was fully awake. Sure, they might’ve been moving, but they weren’t conscious. It was a very peaceful feeling, sitting outside smoking a cigarette. It was like I had total freedom. I miss it.

I finished my cigarette. As I tossed it to the ground, Thomas suddenly opened the glass door and peeked his head out. “Hey, Payte.” Thomas said.

I exhaled smoke and looked at Thomas with my cigarette hanging on my lips, “What’s up?”

“The cashier just offered Travis fifty-dollars to cover his shift.”

I raised an eyebrow, “No, shit. Really?”

“Yeah, really. He just gave Travis the twenty-five dollars, he’ll pay him when he gets back.”

I nodded and walked into the gas station with Thomas. A skinny little-kid sat behind the counter wearing a bandanna around his forehead. He was talking to Travis about his “duties” at the gas station, and how they’re a, “family.” Really, it was just corporate sell-out bullshit to hypnotize you into selling your balls for the company.

The skinny-kid, who we found out was named Craig, left soon after and we were told to man the gas-station. Considering there was no one coming in the for the rest of the night, it was pretty boring. I laid on the counter, lighting cigarettes, and pressing them into my skin. There’s a certain kind of rush you get from self-inflicted pain.

My mind was racing at a thousand-miles-per-hour. I couldn’t stop thinking about the next time I’d pack a bowl and smoke it, or take another tab of acid.

The truth is, I never understood why someone would be okay just drifting about life, never doing anything special. Like, you’re really just okay with the eat, piss, work, entertainment, and sleep cycle? Really? It is my personal, and correct, belief that you are your own God, so why squander your divinity? Fuck a prostitute, do a line of coke, walk from Canada to Mexico and flirt with any women you come across, maybe even gather up every AK-47 in the country and start the revolution. That is what life should be about.

We have been conditioned to believe that we are lesser. That we should be happy working for shit pay, and sucking up to asshole, sociopathic, bosses. I say, fuck that. Take a knife to work and decapitate your boss. No one owns you. No one is in control of you, but yourself. Why allow your life to be just another statistic?

Jack walked into the gas station, half-asleep. He gave a slight wave and then sat in a little red-chair behind the counter. Thomas had taken a pint of ice-cream and was eating it with a plastic-spoon.
I pushed the final cigarette into my skin and then tossed it on the floor. “Welp, I’m fuckin’ bored.” I said.

Travis shook his head and said, “Go pick that shit off the floor. I’m working here, none of you should even be in here.”

I threw my hands into the air. “Oh, cut the shit. You’re bored too, I can see it. Why not have a little fun?”

“Payte, your idea of fun is lighting shit on fire.” Jack mumbled.

I smiled, “That’s true, but burning this place would land me in jail. I’d rather burn something bigger so the punishment is worth it. Something this small just isn’t worth it.” Then an idea popped into my head. I lifted myself up on the counter and stood on it, my head almost touched the ceiling. “Travis, is there a baseball bat somewhere?”
Travis squinted and slowly turned to me, “I’m not giving you a baseball bat, dude.”
“I’m not gonna hurt anything.”

“That’s alive.” Jack added.

I glared at Jack. He instantly nodded and shut up. I pirouetted around in the air. “Every fuckin’ gas station has a weapon somewhere. What if someone tries to rob the place?”

Travis slammed his hand on the counter, “Payte! Get out of here, or I’ll force you the fuck out. I’m trying work, you know?”

Travis must not have noticed that his fist opened the cash-register. I moved to the cash-register and shoved Travis out of the way. “Payte!” Travis called out. I stood in front of him and picked the money up and counted through it.

“There are three-hundred-dollars in this cash-register. I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t give a single fuck about these stupid rich-fucks making poor Craig work for shit-pay. We should give them payback for making us and our peers suffer in these conditions. We should gather up all the corporate pigs and the pedophiles that rule our country, and put all of their fucking heads on every fence-post around the White House. What do we have to lose?” I cheered like some fucked-up cult leader. I grabbed the cash and threw it into the air. It fell down and scattered across the floor.

Jack smiled and nodded. He stood up and looked at Travis. “He has a point…”

Travis looked down at the three-hundred in cash on the floor, then picked up the baseball bat from under the counter. He held it in his hands, stared at it, contemplating his decision, then sighed. Travis brought the bat up into the air and swung it down onto the cash-register.

Nothing in the gas station was safe from our rage. Maybe it was the withdrawals starting, or our sleep-deprivation, but our demons let loose. By the end of the first hour, bags of processed potato chips were strewn and crushed onto the floor. Pints of ice-cream were thrown at the wall, and splattered across the ceiling. Cartons of cigarettes were burned and stuffed into our pockets.

Three hours later, the gas-station looked like the aftermath of a psychotic episode. Thomas found a crow-bar in the back and pried the shelves off from their places. Bottles of booze were either chugged, or thrown at the ceiling, causing glass to rain down and explode like fireworks. The coffee machines were picked up and thrown to the ground, then stomped on and beaten. Jack found a gun, hidden by duct tape on the counter, and fired rounds at the slurry machines. I picked the five-hour energy drinks off the counter and chugged ten of them. The rest were dumped out onto the ground and thrown around.

An hour later, and the sun began to rise, signaling the end of our destruction. Jack laid on the floor panting like he had just finished a triathlon. The poor guy had just finished smashing ever bottle of wine in the store. A few glass shards had even landed on his face, though it didn’t require medical attention.

Thomas was laying on the counter, knocked out cold. We had given him a bottle of whiskey, and watched him chug it. He then projectile vomited all over the merchandise.

I stood by the refrigerated shelves, smoking a cigarette. I opened one of the doors and grabbed two cans of beer. I tossed one to Travis, and we opened ours together. I would take a swig, then Travis would take a swig of his beer.

“I think we’re done.” Travis said, then took a sip.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’d say that. We really fucked up this place up nice. It looks better all broken.”

Travis turned to me and with a faint smile, said, “You know what? I agree with you. We need to do this again.”

I took a sip of beer and said, “I agree with that. Let’s just destroy every gas station we come across. It’d be a fun habit.”

“Agreed.”

“…”

“…”
“You ready to go?”

“Yup.”

I walked over to Thomas and lightly smacked the back of his bald head. He shot up like a rocket and yawned. “What the hell?” He said slowly.

“It’s time to go. Come on!”

The four of us walked out of the gas station. I held the door for them, as they slowly walked out. Poor things, they must’ve been exhausted. The guys all raced to the van, but I decided to walk. Just over the horizon, I could see Craig walking over. I had that, “Oh shit,” look on my face as I recognized him.

I gathered my courage, and walked over to Craig. “Oh, hey!” I said.

Craig nodded and tried to step to the left to get into the gas station. I moved in front of him and stuck my hand out to shake his. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

Craig lifted his head and tried to peer through the windows. “I’m just here to check on you guys, is everything alright?”

I nodded, “Oh, yeah, totally. Travis is in there bored out of his mind, you get it.”

Craig raised an eyebrow and gave a slight nod. “Uhuh.”

“Could we just get the twenty-five-dollars now?”

Craig stared at me as he bit his lip. Sweat was trickling down my forehead and to my neck. Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled his wallet out. “This should be enough.” Said Craig. “Thanks for the help.”

I sniped the money and began racing towards the van. “Thanks!” I yelled back to him as I jumped into the driver’s seat of the van. With our stomachs full of liquor, cigarettes in our mouths, and are arms sore and tired, we took off down the road.