Random Writes

James' Story

Wrote this little number for a health project. I hope you like it. (However this will be the explicit version of course I didn't actually curse in the one I turned)

________________________________________

It was a cold night in my town, the wind was blowing past me in a furious fit. It felt as the wind was telling me to stop, but the alcohol burned my throat in a comforting manner. I pick up a piece of glass in my drunken haze and slice over and over until my vision blurred and everything went black. It was pure bliss to me, the haziness and the confusion fueled me like a tortured fire. It held me in its grasp like a bad rush of adrenalin and happiness. I was in deep stuff, but who could I tall to? My mom was too stressed already and my dad was a strict old shit bag and was way too hard on me. I had no friends, everyone was scared of me.

I woke up with a bright light burning into my eyes and a pounding headache so painful I could barely function. "Yes miss he is awake, but he has a lot of problems." I hear a cold voice spit at what I think is my mom like they care, such a failure that was. They dropped their volume and whispered cautiously. "Your son is depressed and I suggest you get him help immediately." I didn't want help; it would only make me feel even more like a burden on her. I see all the machines I'm hooked up to and start pulling out all these damn tubes out of my arm. I get up and get a cigarette out my pack. I needed a long good smoke. A nurse sees me through the glass and rushes into my room.

"Young man you can't smoke in here! That's a dirty habit you've got there", she tried to preach to me. "Now give me the cigarettes and eat your breakfast." She motions over to a tray full of hospital shit. It didn't look like food and food always brought up bad memories for me, like dad forcing food down your throat not matter how many times you threw up. I'd grown intolerant to a lot of foods anyway and just avoided food all together. I don't need it anyway the booze and nicotine will keep me going. I have no need for food anyway; it gives me no nutrients anyway.

"Leave me alone! You people aren't helping me, you're just trying to hurt my mom even more", I spit at the nurse as I light up and take a drag. The smoke comforts my nerves. "Honey, please stop this, you'll get cancer", my mom sobs at me. "Look, mom I do this because I can. Now let's get outta here, they've upset you." I pull up my pants and reach for her hand. She steps back and begins to shout. "Now you listen here young man, you are going to stay here and get the help you need. You aren't in the best mental health, now you're going to stay here and let the good people help you."I wasn't having any of it. "You know what? Fuck you, fuck this place, fuck their help, fuck it all of this I'm out." I stormed out with my jacket, never looking back. The cool crisp air outside felt good on my skin, I looked at the time 8:20. Well it's Monday, nah I'm just gonna skip today anyway. It a wasteland of broken dreams anyway. Not good for me in my "condition".

Here I was not even a day later with a bottle in my hand and glass in my hand. slice my skin and I felt the alcohol erase the reality away. I felt the blood take the numbness away; it reminded me I was alive for another day. I walk into the house stumbling and giggling. My dad comes out his little nest and walks up to me. "E-evening f-f-father, ho-how was work?" I slur out staring into his soul. "You're drunk again aren't you?" He stares at e with a very serious face, "Why yes I am you old stiff, I think this bottle is evidence enough." He looks really upset but oh well. He raises a hand and slaps me across the face, then knees me in the stomach. He plays dirty like that. As I fall to the ground he begins to kick me over and over; the entire time yelling at me to stop drinking and get a life. My mom runs down stairs and toward me, but he yells at her to go back to sleep. Like a sickly terrified little house wife she ran away from the scene. She ran away from me, from her only son, while her husband murders him. While he's yelling I get up and punch in square in the jaw, I played dirty too. I was really tired of this and I really didn't care anymore. He stumbles back and swings at me. Soon it turns into an actual fist fight, and I love every second of it. All the years of abuse coming to the surface, and the fight ends up in the balcony. I know what comes next but I try my hardest to fight him. I feel myself take a miss step and I go falling down fast toward the ground. I hit the ground hard; I know I'm going to die. Before I do my mom runs up to me screaming that she loves me and she's sorry for not saving me. I silence her and tell her I'm sorry and I loved her, she was truly the only one there for me. I hear my dad's twisted laughter from the balcony. Then everything goes black, for good. That's it I'm gone, dead at 16 because I couldn't get it