Rent Boy

by James Anthony Ford

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  I will remember the following night for the rest of my life and hope to god it does not arise its ugly head again. I was about to enter a world so dark that you may find disturbing. If you are easily spooked or offended then I urge you not to read this paragraph. But I must write about this as a method of healing myself mentally and face up to my fears. But I will explain.

  It was this night that had changed my life forever. It was this night where I had each the peak of severe depression and there was no hope for me. This was the night that all my emotions have become so out of control that my mind and my body literally went physically numb. It was this night where I sat on the couch in silence and in darkness, without any lights on, crying and thinking about every single bad experience from the past. It was this night where I also thought of myself being the ugliest mutant on the face of the planet. I got up from the couch like I was in some sort of trance and looked at myself in the mirror. I was hideous, I had to look away. Then I heard a voice whisper in my ear. I couldn’t work out what these words were. But it was a female voice whispering. I thought it was my brain playing tricks one me. But it happened again and I heard the word ‘snuff’. “Snuff”, “snuff.....snuff....snuff...” She kept whispering this horrible word in my ear and I tried to ignore it. But the more I tried to ignore this whisper which came out of nowhere the word would get louder and louder until I yelled out “I GIVE IN!!!”. This was my time. I had completely lost my conscious mind and I was being controlled by some other force. It sounds silly but it’s true and I remember the whole thing. I don’t even know why I did the following I am about to tell you but I got out my video camera, switched it on and sat in front of it staring directly at the lens. I was staring right into the lens. It was like I was preparing for something to happen. I remember when I was just sitting there that I was thinking “Well, do it, get it over with, but make sure it is captured on film” I was actually patiently waiting for my life to be ended. I was ready and waiting to be killed on film. I started to think of awful images of what methods of torture would these unknown beings would do to me on film. These unknown beings were figures of my imagination. But I was actually waiting for them. Waiting to be tortured and butchered on film. I thought of how lovely it would look to see my own blood gushing from my neck. The pain would be so intense that it could in fact be enjoyable. I was ready and waiting. I thought perhaps they could blindfold me and start by chopping my fingers off one by one and imagine the amount of blood oozing down my body. The images of gruesome death became more and appealing that now disturbs me as to why I was in that mind zone. I had completely lost the plot. But I had gone beyond depression and self-hate that I had to end the misery and I wanted the whole world to see it on film as there is a strong message to it. That message is “See? This is what society has made me out to be, it is your fault that my life had come to this”. I wanted the world to feel guilty for making me do what I was about to do. I hated the world and even more hated myself. But I lost patience after waiting for these ‘unknown beings’ to snuff me on film so I reached for my box of medications. This was just a box where I kept every medicine and pills together in the one box. There was everything from Panadol to Xanax to anti-depressants, everything. Now I was not even thinking about what I was doing so I can’t explain what led me to take this action. I started taking pills of Panadol. A mild pain reliever. I took one, took a swig of a Dry Martini, and took another one, then another sip of the Martini, and another one and another and so on. I did this whilst a smile on my face like I was finally taking the plunge to the ultimate escape from this miserable world I live in. I kept popping the pills whilst smiling and staring right at the camera lens and filming the entire thing. I kept swallowing pill after pill. I had taken around about 100 or so Panadol pills, which equated to around 5 packets or so but I think I took more. This was totally over the recommended dosage, in fact what I was doing was fatal. But that was the plan. I took the pills one by one with sips of a Martini in between and just taking my time like I had no need to rush. I wanted to die slowly. It had taken about 20 or so minutes before I had taken all of the boxes of Panadol that I had in my medication box. If there were more I would have taken them. But even after 20 minutes I felt nothing, in fact, not even a twitch. So I said ‘stuff it’, let’s make it a cocktail. So I noticed that I had a entire packet of an anti-psychotic drug called Largactil. The psychiatrist put me on these pills for a short time but had to come off them cause of the side effects of sleepiness and agitation. So I thought this would be the icing on the cake. So I took the box out and tipped out the packets of 50 pills and looked into the camera and said “See you all on the other side....and by the way, it you.....yes you that did this to me..” When I said ‘you’, I really meant society. I wanted the film to be a controversy with an edge. This was a ‘snuff’ film like no other. It was self-inflicted yet there was no blood or gore. It was gentle but I felt it had purpose. This had to be done and I was not backing out. So I proceeded to take each Largactil pill one by one but without the sips of Martini in between. I just wanted to die now. I wanted the overdose of the pills to just put me to sleep so I never wake up and wanted this snuff film to be a lesson to society. It did not take me long to take all the pills but I did it and once I finished I thought if I should take any more pills. After all I still had Xanax and a whole heap of Sudafed and anti-depressants. But I thought ‘no’. Let’s just let nature take its course. What I have done is enough. But I will admit this though, there was a part of me that was hoping that I may not die. But the majority of my mind was truly wanting to die. I was just wanting to quick painless death, if possible. I had no idea what effect all these pills would take on me but I sat there staring at the camera not saying a word and just sitting there waiting for the pills to take effect. An hour goes by and still nothing. I has not even gotten a stomach ache and I was not even getting drowsy. But I knew the huge amount of pills were fatal and death was not far away. Then I heard those whispers again in my ear. I couldn’t work out this time what these whispers were saying to me but it sounded a bit like “your time has come, come to me, come to me. Come...come”, it sounded a bit like that, but I wasn’t sure. But I didn’t care. I just wanted my death to be quick and I was getting inpatient so made another dry Martini, lit up another cigarette and sat back on floor again in front of the camera. Then all I remember next is that I took one sip of the Martini and then I felt the veins in my head bulging, I could feel them and my head also started to feel really tight. It was like my head was put between a vice and it was being squeezed. Then I started to panic and I sort of came out of my weird suicidal trance and realise what I have just done. I ran to the mirror and noticed that all the veins had popped out of my temples and my heart was racing but I think it was more of the panic attack. But it was too late, I was not going to be a coward and call 000 for help. I took all my courage and sat in front of the camera and said ‘This is it’. Then all I remember is that my vision started going a bit blurry and found it hard to focus and then that was it. I passed out in front of the camera. I don’t remember a thing after that. The pills had got me, finally. And it was all on film for the world to see what pain and suffering they made my life. It was society’s fault that it had to be suicide to end my misery. The pressure of society and its superficiality is what killed me.

  I awoke the next morning only to find myself lying on the floor in the lounge room with a camera facing me. My immediate reaction was ‘Thank god’. I was grateful that I really didn’t die or did I? I could not believe that after swallowing all those hundreds of pills that I would still be alive so I tested it. I cut my wrist just enough to feel it and see blood. It confirmed it. I was still here, I was still on this planet. But ironically I was so very grateful that god had given me a second chance. I don’t think he wanted me to die, not yet anyway. It was not my time and I agreed. I truly believe to this day that god was watching me whilst
the whole event took place. I didn’t need to get my fifteen minutes of fame via filming my own death. What a selfish thing to do? So that day that I awoke after this awful event I swore that I would get rid of the camera and the tape and get it out of my life completely. I took it to the local rubbish tip later in the day. I also realised that I had an appointment to see my psychologist that morning at 10 am as usual. The funny thing too was that when I awoke that morning I awoke at the usual time I always wake up which was at 8 am. It was like nothing had ever happened. I didn’t feel any fear that I had actually tried to take my own life. But all I did feel was shame and guilt and I had to apologise to god for that awful sin.

  So I went to my psychologist appointment with a latte in one hand and felt pretty okay. I was not sad. I was not fearful about what I did the night before. It was if god had erased the tragedy of it for me. He didn’t want me to die and I appreciated that. As usual my psychologist would start by saying “Well, what have you been up to the past week?” I didn’t want to hide the truth. It was time for no more lies. I needed help. So I just said it showing no emotion “I tried to kill myself last night”. She just gave me a stare as if I was going to say next “Oh, I was just kidding!” But I didn’t. I said “I tried to snuff myself on film last night”. She then knew I was not joking and she sat up in her chair and looked very concerned. “So...what did you try to do?” she said nervously. “I swallowed pills” I replied. “What sort of pills?” she said with such curiosity. “I think I took about over a hundred Panadol tablets and also a whole packet of Largactil”. She was stunned. “Jay, you do realise that you could have done a lot of damage to your liver, even though you might feel fine now, they is quite often a delayed reaction” she said with a concerned look on her face. Now I was shocked. I felt fine though. But I was now worried. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps I was meant to die. I suddenly felt an immense wave of depression wipe over me like it paralysed my body from head to toe. My psychologist didn’t waste any time. She immediately got on the phone and called my psychiatrist who was in the same hospital and said it was an emergency. I just sat there. She was panicking. Pretty much immediately my psychiatrist got on the phone and they started chatting. She told him of what I had done then she got off the phone. I think I had started some sort of controversy now or something. “You have to go to the emergency department” she said in a rush of panic. “I feel fine though” I said in a relaxed voice. “No Jay, you don’t understand, this is just the beginning, what you have done usually takes effect about now, you must go now to emergency” she said. “And what if I don’t?” I said sarcastically. “Well, then we need to take steps.....and I mean serious steps to ensure your safety....you are in danger James, go to emergency now” she said. I didn’t understand why all the panic. I felt almost 100%. But I went. I strolled my way through the mazes of corridors in the hospital to get to the emergency department.

  I arrive at the emergency department. All I was thinking about was how much of a waste of a day this was going to be. I knew I was going to sit in the waiting room for hours and hours on end. I had even hired a car for the next couple of days so I can do a few things like go to the beach. I walked up to the reception desk at emergency and some girl who clearly did not want to be working there said in a sarcastic voice “So, what is your problem?” “My problem....SWEETHEART.....I tried to commit suicide last night”. She just stared at me and the whole emergency waiting room went silent. “That’s right everyone!!!!....I fuckin’ tried to kill myself, you fuckin’ sticky beaks!” I screamed at everyone in the waiting room. All I felt was rage. “Okay, I have to ask you to calm down sir and can you tell me what you tried to do?” “I swallowed a few boxes of Panadol and Largactil” I replied calmly. “How many?” she replied. “I don’t know, maybe a hundred, two hundred, who knows, all I know is that I took a lot” I said with a slight temper in my voice. She said “okay, just one sec...” and then she quickly walked off and she went and spoke to some other woman in a white overcoat in the distance. They were chatting and looking at me at the same time. Then the woman in the overcoat walked over to me and said “Okay, I understand that you tried to overdose on some tablets” she said to me as if I was a five year old child. “Yes!” I snapped back. She then wrote on some form in front of me in big black writing “SUICIDE ATTEMPT-URGENT”. Then she said “Okay, we need to get you in her fast, please come this way...” She came to the emergency room entrance door and ushered me in some room that looked like an asylum room for mental patients. I really didn’t still understand all the fuss they were making but whatever the case may be, they took this very seriously. She asked me to lie on the bed and that we need to get blood samples as my liver is in danger. I wanted to know what the hell was going on so I said “Is all this fuss really necessary?” I said in a sarcastic voice. She looked at me and said “You are facing a fatality....Jay, you are in great danger”. I started to feel a sweat of panic over me yet I was in a rage of anger. I don’t know why I felt so angry. Perhaps it was the fact that coming to the emergency room was such a waste of a day as I felt fine. They all seemed to think I was about to die. Then a male nurse walked in with a smile on his face and said “We need to get some blood from you as we need to test your liver” “So what’s this going to achieve” I said sarcastically. “Well, if we make it in time......we can save your liver.....and possibly you” he said in a serious voice. I now knew that I was danger and felt scared. Whilst the nurse was jamming some huge needle up my arm he asked me why I tried to kill myself as if he just didn’t understand the concept of it. “Because I hate myself and my life” I replied. He looked totally confused but didn’t reply. I think he just thought I was just another nutcase coming into emergency. That is also what I felt like too. I felt like I had sunk to a new low point. A mental patient losing the plot and going crazy.

  I sat on that bed for hours with a needle sticking out of my arm and there was some gadget attached to it to capture the drips of blood or something. I don’t really know what the hell it was. But it actually stung, like it was quite painful. I sat there on the bed for about five hours and no one, not a single staff member even came over to me to let me know what was going on or even to see if I was okay. They really didn’t seem to give a shit. I was getting furious and I wanted to leave. But then a nurse appeared and said that the triage psychiatrist will come to see me shortly. So I stayed there waiting patiently.

  Shortly a friendly and kind of down to earth woman appeared and said “Jay?” “yeah...” I replied as if I didn’t really care less. “Okay, I understand what has happened and we are waiting for the result of your liver tests and if we need to we can reverse the damage” she said . I didn’t reply as I still really didn’t understand the fuss. Then she closed the door and I expected to get the twenty questions again about why I tried to commit suicide? And blah, blah, blah. But no, we just chatted. For a psychiatrist she was a pretty down to earth one and really seemed to understand. I was surprised as my experience with psychiatrists as that they are quite emotionless people. But she was nice. She made me feel just that little bit better. She then said that we have to wait for the blood tests and that my actual psychiatrist wants to see me. She also said that I need to go to hospital for a few days for observation and just get my head around things. But not the psychiatric part of the hospital, that apparently was not a very nice place. I had heard of awful stories about it which I won’t mention here. But she said I would be admitted to Fairfield House. This was considered a sanctuary for HIV people and supposing a nice place to be cared for. I had also heard that Fairfield House was made for people in their last days of dying from HIV related illnesses or AIDS. But it was a peaceful place I had been told and I would be welcomed there. I said that would be fine but I asked how much longer do I have to sit here? She didn’t know but she said just wait and be patient and someone will look after me soon. So I waited.

  I waited. And I waited. And I waited and on and on and on. I had been sitting in that emergen
cy room since 10.30 am and now it was five o’clock. I waited for another three hours after I saw that triage psychiatrist and since then nobody had even come to see me. It was quite pathetic but that’s how the public hospital system is. I didn’t even want to come here. I only came here because I was forced to. If I didn’t come then my psychiatrist would have informed the police. That’s how serious all this fuss was but I just felt inconvenienced. I had plans for today. I actually wanted to do stuff, that’s why I went to the trouble of hiring a car. What a waste. I was getting really impatient by this stage and was feeling quite angry. I got fed up and I stood up and said to some nurse tending to another patient opposite me and yelled out to her “Excuse me!, can you pleeeeease tell me what is going on with me, I have been sitting here for hours!” “Uh....I will go check” she replied slightly shocked as I snapped at her. Then she went away. I don’t even know if she went to check what exactly was happening with me. I could be dying and they wouldn’t even know. But she never returned. I waited another thirty minutes and I have had enough. I said ‘Stuff it, I’m goin’”. The problem though was this needle thing stuck in my arm. There was a long thin tube that was slid up my arm. I thought ‘how the hell am I going to get this thing out without ripping my arm apart?’. But I really wanted to get the hell out of this place. I took a risk and started to pull the tube out of my arm. It was truly painful and a gruesome thing to see. It looked like there was some alien spawn coming out of my arm. I couldn’t watch what I was doing so I closed my eyes and held my breath and pulled the tube out. It was finally out, but then there was a huge gush of blood pouring out of my arm. “Oh shit!, what have I done!” I said in a panic. The blood just kept gushing from the inner part of my arm and I couldn’t stop it. It looked like I was a victim in some gory horror movie. I used the white sheets from the bed to try and stop the bleeding but blood just kept pouring out. I think I had really stuffed up this time. I didn’t know what to do but I knew I would really be in trouble if I don’t stop this uncontrollable bleeding. It was making me sick just looking at the pool of blood on the floor and all over the bed. It looked like I had been butchered to death. I couldn’t believe how this little tube had stuffed up my arm but then again I am not medically trained and I really should have asked for a professional to remove the tube. I had to think quick as I wanted to get out before someone sees me. So I removed the pillow case cover and tied it around my arm as tightly as I could. That covered up the puncture mark and held the bleeding off. It would be temporary until I get home. I put my jacket on, grabbed my backpack, ripped off the hospital patient name tag around my wrist and casually walked out the emergency room door. Then finally I was free.