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🔴 TRIGGER WARNING - DRUG USE 🔴
Chapter 8
Memento Mori - Latin for 'Remember (that you have) to die'.
I woke up in a daze. It felt as if I'd been sleeping for a week. It was daylight outside and I could hear the kids in the other room playing with their toys. I rolled over and grabbed my phone. It was 4:12 in the afternoon. I had been sleeping for almost a day. I panicked and jumped out of bed. I opened my door and walked down the hallway. My grandma and grandpa were in the living room watching TV together.
"Oh! You're awake!" said my grandma. "Are you okay? I've been worried about you. I tried to wake you up to check on you, but I couldn't get you to budge."
"Yeah, I'm fine. I wasn't feeling good. I'm so sorry I slept so long! Have the boys been good for you?"
"Oh yeah, they've been no trouble at all. I'm just glad you're okay."
"Good. I'm going to go get dressed and try to get myself together."
"Okay hun, whatever you need to do. I'm here if you need me." She turned back around to watch TV and I walked back to my bedroom.
"So, it's Tuesday afternoon," I thought to myself, "I missed class, but I'm not going to school anyways. I feel like I'm forgetting something though. Oh shit, work!"
Although I felt like my life was falling apart, I still held a job. I was working part-time at the Dollar General store in town. I was scheduled to work at 5:00 today. Although selling condoms and discount toilet paper wasn't glamorous, it was a job nonetheless and kept my bills paid.
I sat down to put some make-up on and threw on my uniform. I looked like hell, but I didn't care. I was just happy that I woke up in time for work. I grabbed my purse and kissed my kids goodbye.
"I have to be at work in 20 minutes! I've got to go, love you!" I told my grandma as I was heading out the door.
"Good thing you woke up when you did. Are you hungry? Do you want me to put some dinner in the fridge for you?"
I paused for a moment. I realized I was starving, but the thought of food still wasn't appealing.
"Yeah, just sit some aside for me. Thank you, love you!"
"Okay, love you too, have a good night."
I went out the door and got in my car. As I was going to hook up my phone to play music, I realized I haven't checked it for any missed calls or messages. Did I really want to look? Did I want to keep getting caught up in the game I was playing?
I went ahead and skimmed over the notifications. Surprisingly, no calls or messages from Matt. Just a friend request on Facebook from Ethan and 12 messages from Michael, all asking why I was ignoring him and him accusing me of being high.
I rolled my eyes and just decided to play music. I opened my Spotify and put on The Amity Affliction. I backed out of the driveway and started the drive to work. In the middle of a song my phone started to ring. "Of course," I thought to myself, "It's Michael."
"What do you want, Skunk?"
"Toast! What the hell have you been doing? I've been trying to get a hold of you for a day! Have you been getting high?"
"No man, I was asleep."
"For a day?"
"Yes, for a day! I don't know what Matt gave us, but I didn't feel right. I came home and crashed. I woke up about 15 minutes ago."
"It made me feel strange too. It was probably cut with something."
"Cut?"
"Really? You don't know... never mind. What are you doing now?"
"I'm on my way to work. I've got to clock in by 5:00."
"Come over, I have beer and Ritalin."
"You always have beer and Ritalin though."
"Toast. Just come over. It'll be a good time. Just call in and tell him you're sick or something."
I was silent for a few seconds. I was sitting at a stop light, questioning if I really wanted to go to work, or go get fucked up with Michael. "I'll be there soon."
"That's what I thought. Okay, see you."
He hung up the phone and the music came back on. As the buildings and cars passed me by, I was getting more and more upset with myself. I was trying to live a semi-normal life, keep a job, and go to school. I've already messed up school, now I was going to mess up my job too? "I mean why not, I've already gone this far," I thought to myself.
Before I realized it, I was already at Michael's house. It was 4:57, too late to turn around now. I got out and ran up his stairs. I kicked in his door in typical "Toast" fashion.
"What's up Skunk!" I yelled as I walked through his kitchen. Michael was sitting on his couch watching TV and eating junk food.
"Toast! You're not high are you?" He said in a disappointed tone.
"No, I'm still not high. Not like I was blazing it on the way over. Can't imagine that people driving next to me would be okay with me lighting a crack pipe at the four way stop."
He chuckled, "You've got a point. Come over here, I've got something better than that anyways."
"I don't know about that. I can handle the come down better on dope."
"That's what she said."
"Oh my god, Michael." I laughed as I went over to sit with him on the couch.
He pulled out rolled up cellophane from his shirt pocket and handed me 4 pink pills.
"I don't want you snorting it because you're going to ruin the lining of your nose, but I know you like to. There's a card and straw on the kitchen table for you." He said as he gave me a weak smile.
"Aww, thanks man. Addicts helping addicts." I said with a laugh.
"I'm not an addict! Go do your lines before I change my mind."
I sat down at the table and crushed each pill into a fine powder. I put it into a neat little pile and made 6 lines. I took a deep breath out and did 4 lines before I had to stop.
"Fuck!" I growled. The taste of the Ritalin was caught in my throat and my nose was burning. I took another deep breath and took in the last 2. I threw my head back and looked up at the ceiling. I felt it drip down my throat and the familiar feeling of the high coming back to greet me once again.
"Dude, what if I have a bad crash again?"
"I'll make some coffee, you'll be fine Toast."
I went over to his couch and we talked about how we would start SkunkToast Enterprises and secretly be drug kingpins and have a front, like a local charity, so no one would suspect it was us. We talked for an hour or so about how we would make it happen.
The idea got me excited the more we played around with it. After a while we were both starting to feel the high slipping away, so Michael got up to make more coffee.
I stayed on the couch playing on my phone and messaging friends; something I did often when I was high on Ritalin. As Michael was bringing me a cup of coffee, there was a knock on the door.
"Open up man, it's Matt and Scrappy."
"Who the fuck is Scrappy? Like that little dog in Scooby-Doo?" I asked Michael, but he ignored me and went to let them in.
Matt walked in with his friend. He looked as if he were homeless. He looked dirty, his clothes were torn and pieced together and he sported long blonde dreadlocks.
"Do you live here or something?" Matt asked me as he was coming to sit down on the bed.
"Basically."
"You're still working?" He asked, pointing at my name tag.
"Oh, kind of."
"Lame. Oh, this is Scrappy. With a 'K'."
"Hey," he said shyly as he sat down with Matt.
"Hey," I said back.
"What's up guys!" yelled an overly excited Michael as he was finishing his coffee. "What are you all doing?"
"Just walking through town. Thought we'd stop by to see if you wanted to hang out. She can come too," said Matt.
"Fuck yeah! Toast, you have some clothes in my bedroom if you want to change shirts."
"Awesome, let me finish this coffee first."
I finished up my drink as the guys were talking. I had left many clothes behind at Michael's house since we had become friends, so I went to change out of my Dollar General shirt and into my Blink-182 tank top.
Michael came in with a small cup of coffee and two more Ritalin.
"Here, take these. We're going on a fucking adventure!" He shoved a coffee cup and pills in my hand and left the room while laughing. I don't think I had ever seen him so excited.
I swallowed the pills and walked out, feeling lively and hyper once again.
The four of us left his apartment and started walking downtown in the summer heat. Michael and I were skipping and singing songs by Krispie Kreme, who was a rather sad excuse fro a rapper.
We ran, jumped over benches, sang our hearts out and acted like children. I looked back at Matt and Skrappy who were behind us. They didn't seem nearly as amused as we were.
After a while, we sat down on the sidewalk. I listened as the guys were talking about Skrappy's upcoming birthday party when my phone started to ring.
It was a call from one of my friends Shawn, who I had been talking to earlier. I answered my phone in excitement.
"What's up, bitch!" I yelled into the speaker.
"Emily!"
I froze. This wasn't my friend Shawn, but my manager, who was also names Shawn. I hung up the phone and turned it off. How did I not give them different names in my phone? I was no longer excited and giddy, but filled with shame and fear.
"Who was that?" asked Michael.
"My boss. I literally just called my boss 'bitch'. Well, I guess I'm as good as fired now."
"What the hell, didn't you tell him you'd be out today?"
"Uh, no. I forgot. It's cool though, I'm not worried about it. I'll just find another job. That means more time to have fun!"
"Oh my god, Emily," said Michael.
The fear I felt overcame my high. I felt the grasp of the depression and negativity started to weigh down on me.
"Skunk. I'm coming down. It's bad, I can feel it."
"Shit. Hey, Matt, come here."
Matt got up and waked over to us, "What's up?"
"Toast is coming down, do you have, um, something?"
"Have what? Oh! Yeah, but Skrappy doesn't do that. Give us a minute and we can go back to your place."
Matt went over to talk to his friend as I stared at the pavement. The sounds around me seemed to become muted. All I could hear in my head was the pounding of my heart, and cries for help. I knew that if I didn't smoke with Matt, that I may not survive this come down. I was scared. I almost killed myself last time, and I never wanted to feel that way again.
I know that one day I'll die. One day my heart will stop beating, drugs in my body or not, but I didn't want it to be by my own hand.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in. I thought about how peaceful dying must be. It would end everything I'm going through. I wouldn't have to use any more. I wouldn't be caught up in pills and dope. I wouldn't have to go through my life as an addict.
I wasn't ready to die though.
Matt walked back over to us. I looked up to see Skrappy walking away.
"Okay, we're good," he said. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah. Please. I need to get out of this head space. Is this the same shit that you had last time?"
"No. It's better, I promise."
Michael, Matt and I walked back to the apartment. The sun was setting. I walked behind them staring at their feet in front of me. The feelings of hopelessness and fear were overwhelming me. I thought about jumping in front of a passing car. Ritalin always brings me to suicidal thoughts. Why did I keep doing it? I was angry at myself, but I knew if I could hold out a little longer, I would be free of this feeling.
Michael's apartment was just a block away now. I just had to hold on a little longer.
It took everything I had in me to keep my feet moving forward, but we finally made it. I looked at Michael, who looked back at me with concern.
"I'm sorry Toast," he said. "I'll make it up to you."
We walked up the stairs and into the apartment. Matt turned around and put his hand on my shoulder. "You ready?"
I sighed, "yeah, let's go."
To be continued...
Skunk wasn't actually the nickname I gave Michael, but I am refraining from saying the one I gave him since many people know. Skunk was actually the name he gave me when he was mad at me.
Also, Krispie Kreme is now "Froggy Fresh" but if you are interested in what song we were singing, and for a laugh, you can go to YouTube and look up "The Baddest" by Krispie Kreme and Money Maker Mike.
A picture of me when I still worked at the Dollar General. I was most likely coming down from a bender.
I edited out names and faces, but here's a good look at Michael when he'd go on his history lesson kick. He pulled out this globe often, as I'm geographically challenged, haha.
Since I mention his apartment often, I drew a rough sketch of what it looked like. I'm no artist, so forgive me! In his living room, he had a couch and a bed right behind it, almost in his kitchen.
