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Story III

posted 1/28/2007 8:09:00 PM |
1 kudogive kudos what's this?
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She was a devout catholic and made Amy compulsively recite the Rosary. The words flew into her mind even though she had not thought about them for years. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; Whack went the beater sending shockwaves of pain through her body. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Another hard blow to the face and Amy started to lose consciousness as dots black as bats crowded her vision. Amy fought to keep awake she didn’t want to die before she finished the prayer. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen. The amen was like a cue for Amy to check out and her mind spiraled into darkness. She remembered sinking deeper and deeper into it until there was nothing left.
The beater must have been nice or worried or both. Maybe he didn’t want a murder wrap Amy thought. But, she woke up in the hospital grateful to be alive. She later learned someone made an anonymous 911 call, and that was how the paramedics found her. It took weeks to get out of the hospital and months to completely heal. It was hard because with her jaw broke she had to do vaginal or anal all the time. Those were some fucking hard times. She had blood flowing out of both orifices from overuse and abuse. The heroin though was her friend and got her through. The fellow sister thought for sure that was the end of Amy and the beater it wasn’t. It was strange hard to tell why but Amy needed the beater. It was almost religious in nature. It was like communion, the forgiveness of sin. She had heard somewhere about monks that would whip themselves as punishment for their sins. The beater was like that. Deep down somewhere in her conciseness she honestly believed she deserved it. The beatings would begin and her sins would be wiped away. It was like her soul was a ripe and festering boil that needed to be lanced. Sometimes during her communion with the beater she could feel the putrid pus running from her spirit. She would feel clean and better and then she would feel happier for a time.
A ray of light momentarily beamed down on Amy as the clouds parted ever so briefly. The light and the warmth were both welcoming and it was a shame it could not have lasted longer. The trip was only half over although it was more like a pilgrimage. One she had made many times in the past. The heroin was her life and she was just a vehicle to get it. It was like someone had took the best part of her psyche and placed it in a jar, and all that was left was a zombie body moving to the rhyme of the smack. When it had done what was needed the reunion of the mind and the body could be enjoyed for awhile. Then soon she would be yanked apart only to start all over again. This line of thought was depressing Amy deeply, and the world seemed dark and uncaring. She was losing it, her will. If it had not been for the wild call of the drug, she would have simply collapsed to the pavement unmoving and uncaring. Her nose no longer being dried by smoke broke like a damn and spilled willy-nilly down her face. Amy started to cry.
It didn’t used to be this way Amy thought. In the past she used to live with her grandma. She didn’t know how or why she came to live with her she just remembered always being with her. She could remember being happy and loved. Her grandma was stern but loving, always there and always ready to care. However, memories were fading fast of her grandma. Time, pain, and drugs were taking their toll. It seemed all that was left was impression of her. Perhaps, because the times were many an ritualized Amy could remember the times before Mass, her grandma would spend hours getting both her and herself ready for church. She could remember her grandma putting out her nice dress and shoes. On the days they went to Mass Amy was even aloud to take a bath and she loved splashing away her time in the tub. Amy liked it best however, when her grandma did her hair, she was always so gentle and careful. It was hard to believe she could, because at the time looking in the mirror she could see that her hands were gnarled and twisted with large swollen knuckles. She knew they pained her something awful. Even little things like opening a jar would cause her to wince in pain. However, it never did stop her from lovingly doing Amy’s hair. It made her feel like a princess, and her grandma never did anything to dissuade her from that idea. Far from it, she was always telling Amy how pretty she was and would joke sometimes asking her if she was not lost because surly she belonged in some castle somewhere. Amy always felt important and special but never more so then on the days they went to church. She could remember feeling and being beautiful just like her grandma. They would walk into the church and everything would seem to be perfect. All the parishioners would be dressed regally and grandly. The priest would be dressed in robes making him seem larger then life. The huge crucifix on the wall behind him would be gathering then reflecting rays of white light. But what was the most special was the candles. All those sparkles of light glowing like little angles, she was always held in such rapture by them. It didn’t last though, Amy thought sadly.
Wiping the tears from her eyes Amy started walking again. It was best not to think about the past, it was like a knife hiding in a teddy bear squeeze to hard and you got stabbed. Best not to think just be numb and carry on. She was less then a mile now from the junk. All she could think of was scoring so all the pain would stop. She knew where she was going to fix. There was a condemned apartment complex a couple blocks away from the dealer. There was a house closer where she knew lots of people used to shoot up and smoke crack but she wanted to be high alone. She was in a retrospective downer mood. If she went to the house she might be tempted to smoke some crack. It wasn’t that she was against it she just didn’t want to feel up. She wanted to be on the nod peaceful not constantly looking for the next hit of crack.
The drizzle had started again causing everything to get damp. It didn’t really matter her hair was fucked anyways and she was still soaked from the last time. A dog whined loudly behind a clump of garbage cans moving suddenly it caused one of the cans to knock over. It began to bark viciously at Amy as she passed. Amy saw bundles of fur and knew the dog must be nursing pups. The mother, after Amy had gone a safe enough distance laid back down on her belly to the squeals of delight of her brood. Amy turned lingering just a bit. It seemed so warm in there. In her opinion there was nothing warmer than a puppie’s belly. She silently wished she could just shrink and curl up next to all those puppies and be warmed and loved by the mother. What the fuck Amy thought I’m going out of my mind. A car drove by slowly on the lonely street. The road was one way and soon the break lights flas

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Jan 28 @ 8:16PM  
Ok...I'm hooked! Looking foward to the next one!

Jan 28 @ 9:53PM  
More more more... I must have smack, errr I mean story...

Jan 29 @ 12:17AM  
ok, is it an Oakland Cty Michigan chick thing? This dude is facinating!!

Jan 29 @ 10:02AM  
how sad.....I await the rest ....

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Story III