by J. L. Drake
Besides the bedroom and bathroom, we have a small, windowless sitting area, a narrow galley kitchen, and a small extra bedroom that we use for trash and other random items. I move my cleaning to the living room, gathering up snack wrappers and empty Solo cups, and then carry them into the small silver garbage can under the kitchen sink. The sink is filled to the brim with two-day-old dishes, so I start filling the sink with water and shampoo.
I’ve been out of dish soap for weeks now, but the hair care product seems to get the job done so I don’t complain. The water from the faucet never gets hot because our gas got shut off months ago. If I want hot water, I have to boil it. This all sounds ridiculous, I know. This is the twenty-first century, but my addiction has me back in the Stone Age, because when you’re an addict, you don’t spend money on things like food, water, clothes, electricity…you spend it on drugs. At least the truly hardcore addicts like me do.
Crusty teacups, sauce-covered plates, and sour-smelling utensils permeate the water, rising steadily to the brim. I plunge my hands into the frigid, cloudy water and begin mindlessly washing.
For the past six months, our daily life can be divided into three segments: looking for money to buy heroin, finding the drug, and then getting high. Oh, I almost forgot about the fourth segment: coming down from the drug—my least favorite time of day. Our entire life revolves around heroin and our bodies rely on it to function. It’s not about getting “high” anymore because I never feel lifted or high-spirited, or overly anything these days. We wake up feeling low and we need it to feel normal. Maybe they should change the expression to “getting normal” or “avoiding feeling like shit,” instead of “getting high.”
Today will be different though. Today I have a date with my good friend rehab, and six hours from now, my daily routine should change dramatically. Mick isn’t going, but I’m fine with that. He’ll do his own thing when he’s ready. I’ve been planning this for a month now, and finally the phone call came: a bed opened up at the local in-patient clinic and today is the day to report.
I’ve been to rehab before, and will mostly like go again after this stint, but everything is about to change. This time around, major plans have been made for when I get out of rehab.
Those plans involve me and a sharp set of butcher knives, but I’ll explain that later.
Perhaps you’re wondering how I got this way. Or perhaps you don’t give a damn. Either way, this is my story. It’s not a story about addiction. This is a story about murder.
PART ONE
Chapter 1
The Beginning
Eight Years Ago…
I was three minutes shy of turning thirteen. At the time, my name was Wendi Wise—my real name, by the way.
Every year my parents threw me a party. Not just any old party, either. They invited family and friends, my mom ordered a cake, and I got tons of presents. There were usually balloons, party favors, and dancing…
This year was different though. I’d insisted on not having a party this year. I was too mature for that childish nonsense. I was, after all, a teenager. Well, almost a teenager. My only request for my birthday this year was to go to the movies with my best friend, Claire, and Claire’s older sister, Samantha. I didn’t actually want Samantha to go, but my mom insisted because she still thought Claire and I were too young to go anywhere by ourselves. Samantha wasn’t that much older than us, only seventeen. She certainly didn’t act older than us.
But it didn’t matter anyway because our real plan was not to attend the theater, but to meet up with Joey and Zeke at the mall the theater was connected to. Like us, Samantha was also planning to skip the movie for a hook up with a boy, but she would be going off on her own to do it, which was fine by me and Claire. Our plan was to go our separate ways as soon as Claire and Samantha’s mom dropped us off in front of the plaza. The three of us planned to meet back up at 10:30 p.m., which was thirty minutes before their mother planned on picking us up. The plan should go off without a hitch as long as we all paid attention to our watches and met back up as planned.
Claire’s mom screeched to a halt in front of the Riverside Plaza. She gave us her whole drawn-out spiel about not talking to strangers, walking straight to the theater, and sticking together. As soon as we walked through those double glass doors, we defied every single one of her suggestions.
“See you dweebs back here at 10:30 sharp,” Samantha commanded, giving us both a warning glance. Samantha was curvy and boisterous, with a perfect set of breasts and legs that went on for days. She had a way of commanding attention when she entered a room, but despite her lovely looks, she didn’t have the personality to match. She was known for giving girls at school a good thumping whenever they questioned her authority.
There was no doubt that if we got her in trouble she would thump both of our asses too, no questions asked. She took off for the escalators to meet her beau, shaking her rump audaciously.
Claire and I looked at each other anxiously. “Ready?” she asked, trying her best to sound casual. I nodded excitedly. Joey and Zeke were two slightly older boys we met this past year. My father would describe them as misfits. They came from broken homes, dressed like thugs, and probably got suspended from school. That is, when they went to school.
Our parents would totally freak if they knew we were meeting up with them tonight. Joey and Zeke’s reputations should have made them undesirable candidates when it came to choosing our boyfriends. But it was their rebellious nature itself that lured us there, and resulted in lying to our parents. I didn’t want to tell Claire my true fears, which were that I half expected them to stand us up tonight.
We met Joey and Zeke nearly six months ago, on a previous visit to the plaza…That day, Claire and I had accompanied my mom on a shopping trip.
While my mom scoped out the entire Lane Bryant store, she gave us some money to use in the food court.
“Wanna get high?” asked a tall, lanky boy with white-blond hair from behind us. I wasn’t even sure if I knew what he meant, but he was older and handsome, with a contagious, joker-like smile. He told us his name was Joey and we followed him to the other side of the food court, where we met his quieter, but equally cute friend Zeke. Zeke was his polar opposite, with coal black scraggly hair, and a shorter, but brawnier, frame.
“We have to get back to meet her mom,” Claire warned, biting at her fingernails nervously. “We’ll have you back in less than five minutes. If she comes looking for you, just say that you had to use the shitter or something,” Joey said, waving us away from the food court. We followed them, unsure of what we were getting ourselves into, but excited nevertheless.
Up until recently, Claire and I had always considered ourselves “good girls.” There were girls in our classes at school who were known to be wild sexually, and they got into trouble with older boys. We always claimed to dislike those types of girls, but maybe, deep down, we secretly yearned to be reckless and carefree too.
So, we followed the boys. Perhaps that was our first major mistake.
The boys walked at a rapid pace, and my short, chubby legs struggled to keep up with them. It didn’t take long for me to realize where we were headed. They were taking us outside of the mall.
“Wait. We can’t leave with you guys. We’re not even supposed to be out of the food court!” I protested, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and mildly afraid.
“We’re not leaving the plaza. We’re just going to the side of the building to get high behind the bushes. We better hurry if we want to get back in time,” Joey warned, taking my hand and pulling me along.
Claire had a panicked look on her face, but she trailed along behind us. Joey didn’t let go of my hand. He gripped it tightly in his as we walked through the exit doors and slid behind the bushes at the side of the building. It was the first time I’d ever held hands with a boy.
It wasn’t what I expected; my hands were cold and clammy, and his palms were rough with calluses. But there was something about pressin
g my hand into his that filled me with exhilaration. A rhythmic buzz pulsated throughout my entire body.
The four of us were strangers, but we huddled together closely, hidden by the thick shrubbery that surrounded us, creating our own little cave. Joey released my hand and fished out a pack of Marlboros from a side pocket on his loose fitting Tommy Hilfiger jeans. I wondered how a boy like him could afford such an expensive pair of jeans.
He pulled out a loosely rolled cigarette, but that wasn’t what it was at all. He lit the end of it, and my nostrils were instantly filled with a powerfully noxious, skunk-like aroma. He was smoking marijuana!
He took several small puffs and passed the joint to me first. I wanted to look cool, so I put my lips on the tip of it and sucked deeply. A burning sensation hit the back of my throat, and I coughed uncontrollably over and over again. I expected Joey to laugh but he just smiled at me sweetly and patted me on the back. “Next time, try taking small puffs,” he coaxed sweetly. I nodded, still struggling to catch my breath.
Claire took a hit next, and then Zeke gave her something called a “shotgun,” which was just him blowing smoke into her mouth. The way Claire stared into his eyes yearningly I knew they were hitting it off, just like me and Joey.
“We need to get back now,” I said, suddenly hit with a spacey, slightly disoriented feeling. The fear and excitement I’d felt earlier was replaced with a new sensation: a mixture of adrenaline and headiness. “We have to go too. Can you guys walk yourselves back to the food court?” Joey asked, searching my eyes with a look of concern. I nodded, grinning giddily.
“Do you guys want our cell phone numbers?” Zeke asked, looking right at Claire. We both replied “Yes” in unison. Joey pulled a black Sharpie pen out of his pocket, scrawled his number on my left palm, then handed the pen to Zeke so he could do the same for Claire. Joey never took his eyes off mine. I stared back at him intently.
There were boys at school I was attracted to, but I’d never felt anything like this. I was afraid of his edginess, but enthralled by it too. We said our goodbyes, and then Claire and I took off, running through the mall frantically to get back to the food court. We should have been panicked, but we were flying high, laughing excitedly as we ran.
Lucky for us, my mom wasn’t there, but it was less than a few minutes later that she showed up, towing an armful of Lane Bryant bags with her, clueless about our recent escapade. We rode home in silence, Claire and I smiling back and forth at each other nervously. I kept my hand at my side and my palm exposed, careful not to smear the number written across it.
That was six months ago. Our communications with Zeke and Joey since then had been via talking and texts over the phone. I’d begged my mom repeatedly to take me to the plaza again, but she had insisted I couldn’t go alone until my thirteenth birthday. Claire’s mom insisted on the same thing. I often thought our mothers were conspiring together.
So, here we were…back at the place where it all started, getting ready to see the boys again. My conversations with Joey had been short and aloof. He seemed different over the phone than in person, less friendly.
I simply couldn’t contain my excitement as I followed Claire to the food court. I was nervous about seeing them again, but my heart was racing with excitement too. That’s when I spotted him, standing in front of a small Arby’s kiosk. My belly instantly filled with a fluttering sensation.
The boys seemed happy to see us again. Not only was Joey as amiable as the first time we’d met, he was even friendlier. The four of us ate roast beef sandwiches and played on the scooters in Toys R Us until one of the managers asked us to leave. We ran out of the store, chuckling amongst ourselves and nodding at each other goofily.
After that, Joey and Zeke offered us more pot, and we obliged, returning to our secret hiding spot. I took more puffs this time around, and my head felt confused and my belly woozy. Last time, I’d felt giddy when I smoked it. But this time it was too much. I instantly didn’t want to be high anymore.
But then Joey did something that eased all of my misgivings. He planted his lips on mine and slipped his tongue in my mouth. I placed my hands on his chest, leaning into him. I didn’t want the kissing to end, but when it did, I was pleased to see Zeke and Claire making out too. Claire and I smiled at each other, embarrassed.
“I want to get you a present,” Joey said suddenly, smiling mischievously. He led the way back into the mall, and directed us toward a small jewelry boutique that sold trendy costume jewelry, hair accessories, and handbags. Was Joey actually going to buy me a piece of jewelry? If so, did that mean we were dating?
My mixed emotions and scattered thoughts induced by the pot made me nervous and overly introspective. “Wait for us at those benches across from the store,” Zeke instructed, pointing to a narrow set of empty seats. Was this just an excuse to get rid of us? What was going on? I wondered, my thoughts spinning ceaselessly in meaningless, paranoid circles. The pot was making my thoughts seem strange, as though they weren’t my own.
Nevertheless, Claire and I sat there waiting, straining our eyes to see what the boys were doing exactly. Nearly half an hour later, they came walking out of the boutique, without bags. “Let’s go for a smoke,” Joey suggested.
I shook my head. “I can’t smoke anymore of that stuff. My head is already all messed up…”
“Not that, silly. Let’s go have a cigarette. You do smoke cigarettes, don’t you?” he asked, poking at me playfully. “From time to time,” I answered coyly, which was a total lie. I’d never smoked a cigarette in my life.
We headed back out to the front of the plaza, but we didn’t hide this time. We stood right in front of the mall, where cars were parked along the emergency lane, parents picking up their kids. Zeke and Joey lit up their cigarettes. They offered me one, but this time I declined. It was nearing 10:30, and I couldn’t take the risk of Claire’s mom pulling up early and catching us smoking.
“We need to get going in a few minutes. We have to meet back up with my sister before we go wait for our ride home,” Claire said. She looked irritated. I think she was still sore about not getting a present from the boutique as promised. Right on cue, the boys handed us each a matching set of necklaces and earrings.
The necklace was a flimsy chain, but it contained a gorgeous silver heart in its center that opened up to reveal a tiny space for a picture. The heart had three words engraved on its front: I Love You. I couldn’t believe it.
My hands were shaking as I accepted his gift, and I glanced at Claire’s reaction to her own jewelry. She was grinning from ear to ear. The earrings were also quite nice, two tiny cubic zirconia “diamonds.” I couldn’t help myself; I reached out for Joey, throwing my arms around his neck gleefully.
But before I could even say “thank you” for the gift, I heard sounds of shouting from behind us. “Stop right there!” yelled a grey-headed, overweight security guard. He was running right toward us. A petite, impeccably dressed sales associate, who I recognized from the boutique, was jogging right beside him.
“That’s them! The ones who were shoplifting!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger in our direction. As the security guard came running, Zeke and Joey took off across the plaza parking lot, leaving Claire and I stranded with the stolen merchandise in our hands.
Chapter 2
I know I should have been pissed at Joey, but I can honestly say that I wasn’t. I knew he genuinely liked me and stole the jewelry because he couldn’t afford to buy it on his own. You remember that old saying, ‘It’s the thought that counts’? Shouldn’t that apply in this situation?
Needless to say, I still liked Joey. But my feelings didn’t matter anymore because I was grounded for a month. No trips to the mall and no phone. It could have been worse, my mom said: they could have taken us to jail. Instead, they held Claire and I in a cramped security office until Claire’s mom came to pick us up. When she arrived, they told her we were involved in a shoplifting scheme with two boys. To make matters wo
rse, Claire’s mom told my mom everything, of course.
Not only was I grounded for a month, my mom informed me that I would no longer be allowed to go the mall without her until I was at least sixteen. I never expected to see Joey again. I would just have to learn to deal with it.
I spent that month in my room, sneaking cigarettes from my mother any chance I got. At night, while my parents slept, I would climb out my window and sit on the roof, enjoying the rich, minty flavor of my mother’s Newports. I wrote sappy love poems for Joey, poems he would never have a chance to read. I flipped through radio channels compulsively, searching for either the angriest or the saddest songs I could find. I felt depressed, simple as that.
Around the time my month-long grounding came to an end, school went back in session. I was eager for the first day because it meant I could leave the house. Most importantly, it meant I would get to see my best friend again. Claire and I hadn’t talked since that night at the plaza.
She was waiting for me at the front entrance of school when I walked through the door lined with metal detectors. In a small town like this, you would think there’d be no need for such extreme measures, but the truth is, school was just as dangerous, if not more dangerous, than a plaza filled with strangers. I just wished my mother understood that.
I smiled at Claire. She was dressed in a trendy pair of overalls, and she was wearing them the way cool kids do, with one strap left undone. She had chin-length brown hair with a button nose and freckles. She was definitely what most boys would consider ‘cute.’ I, on the other hand, did not feel cute, or pretty for that matter. Not with my long black hair, dark eyes, and curvy bottom that didn’t match my flat chest. Lately, I’d been experimenting with makeup, and today I was wearing maroon-colored lipstick and black eyeliner drawn so far off my eyes that I looked Egyptian.