Rotten (22 page)

“What are you doing?” I asked while scooting off of the bed.

His forceful kisses backed me against the wall where he then leaned down and gripped both of my thighs, lifting me up off my feet.

“Wrap your legs around me and hold onto my shoulders.” I did as he directed and felt him move one arm to guide himself back into me. Gravity pulled me down faster and more painfully than I expected. With both of his hands behind my knees, he used the wall to keep me pinned in place. Each thrust stole my breath. I bit his collarbone and chin, unable to do much more.

“You’re so small, Toni. I just had to fuck you here against the wall.” He was not as gentle this time, but I was okay. His eyes never left mine as he drove into me recklessly. Still holding me around his waist, he turned and gently laid me on the bed, but held onto my knees. He pressed them into my chest as he slowly moved in and out.

“You feel so fucking good, I don’t want to come, yet.”

All I could do was grab the blanket on either side of me and hope I wouldn’t break in two. His thrusting grew faster and more urgent. The pounding in my body caused me to start crying out. He grabbed my hips and held me in place as he came forcefully, searing me with a flash of pain.

With soft fingers, he brushed the hair stuck to my forehead way from my face.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded while draping my legs back down to each side of his hips. He brushed his lips lightly across mine, and I watched his face grow dark.

“Don’t worry, I am not going to tell anyone about us. You can’t either.”

I froze in his arms. “Why not?”

His voice was low as leaned into me. “You just can’t, okay?”

A million thoughts swirled in my head. I just gave him the most important part of me, and I wasn’t allowed to share it. Not that I would – there was no one to tell.

“I won’t.”

Being alone is a strange feeling. Not just separated from the physical presence of another person, but also emotionally and spiritually feeling as if every bond with humanity has been severed. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around it, fabricating excuses as to why. Despair was an emotion that I had feasted on for weeks, and this – this was absolute and utter desolation. My soul was as dry as the desert that surrounded me.

I thought the first time I tried to take my life that I was alone. I know now I was terribly mistaken. Then I was just a lost little girl who misunderstood the intentions of others. Now I was nothing more than a piece of matter consuming precious resources better left for others who deserved it. My back scratched and drew blood as it slid down the rough plaster wall to the ground. I felt it, yet I wouldn’t call it pain, just receptors messaging my brain that my skin had experienced lesions and needed to send the proper cells to repair it. I was that disconnected from what was happening.

Looking around his house, I wanted to run, hop on a plane, go somewhere, but there was nowhere to run. I told myself I wouldn’t cry, but I did and hard. I cried for my father who was slipping away every moment. I cried for my broken marriage, and the kids I worked with back home. I cried for the girls who worked for me here, and I cried for David. Those tears burned the most and fell with unforgiving force. I let my grief wash over me in waves, sometimes soft and numbing, and then quickly sweeping me under, pounding me against shoreline.

It was unfair of David to leave me like this to battle my demons alone. We could have fought them together. After all, isn’t that what love does? He said that he loved me too much, but not enough to understand that when he walked out the door, he took the last sliver of hope within me, leaving only dust in his wake.

Still naked, I crawled into the kitchen and pulled a bottle of vodka from the freezer. It was only half-f, but enough to knock me out. I chased the gulps with juice, taking in as much as quickly as possible. It didn’t take long for the liquor to course through my body with warmth. I took a few more gulps for good measure and walked to the bathroom to wash my face. As the cool water splashed over my eyes, I could feel how puffy and swollen my face was under my fingertips. All of the crying formed a headache even the vodka could not erase.

Opening the medicine cabinet to look for an aspirin, my gaze fell upon a sight that shook me to the core. Tenderly grazing the small, brown pill bottle visibly full of little white oxycodone tablets, my heartbeat started to pound with fear. I felt the presence of something heavy come over me as the thoughts flashed violently. The bottle started to burn in my hand, causing me to drop it into the sink. Although still unopened, I picked it up again and cracked the lid, pouring the contents into the toilet. Flushing the handle with anger, I screamed at myself for thinking it, even for a split second.

Falling to the ground, I felt the presence holding me tight, whispering to my soul.

“You have come too far

I am not finished with you, yet

Hold on my child

You are not alone”

I had always believed in God, although lately we hadn’t really been on speaking terms. I still prayed, but my heart had grown very hard. My pessimism kept God from being able to move, in addition to my not wanting to admit I needed help. This was the first time I experienced what some would call divine intervention. There was no other way to explain the clarity I felt despite the amount of alcohol I consumed. The tears had stopped falling, and a sense of calm filled my heart. Perhaps I was drunker than I thought, but I was coherent enough to know not to fight it.

Peeling back the sheets, I crawled into the empty bed, holding the rosary I dug out of my suitcase. It had been over a month since I held it last. That night I felt broken and lost, and things began to turn around the next day. I wasn’t sure how I would get through this, but I would – I had to believe that. I had come too far.

I could hear my name being called in the distance, the voice frantic and pleading. I must have been dreaming, because it was David. It was exactly how I heard it when he found me long ago. My body started to shake hard, and I could now feel his arms holding me against his rattling chest.

“Baby, please wake up. Not again, you can’t leave me. Please, Toni, I’m so sorry. God, I will do anything you want. Don’t take her. Please…”

I felt his quivering lips on my forehead as I pushed myself into consciousness. For some reason, I was unable to open my eyes or will my body to respond. I was limp in his arms, trapped in a dream. Hearing the numbers of a phone being dialed, I kept struggling to move.

“Yeah, I need an ambulance, hurry, don’t let her die.” His voice was broken and full of pain.

Die? I wasn’t dying was I? Oh fuck, wake up, Toni, wake up!

I had never been so drunk I couldn’t wake up. Part of me thought I was awake because of the sounds all around me, yet I was still unable to respond. Everything was dark and muffled. A bright light started to appear as more voices grew louder.

“Pupils unresponsive, breathing irregular, skin clammy. Toni, Toni.”

Snapping noises in my ear made me jerk, and for the first time I physically felt my body react.

“Toni, can you hear me?”

I didn’t recognize the man’s voice. More people continued to shout. The loud pitch of a radio sounded.

“Ten Four, possible overdose. Boyfriend found an empty oxy bottle in the bathroom. Patient is unresponsive, we’re stabilizing now, get a chopper over here. Kramer out.”

What the fuck was going on? I didn’t overdose. Oh shit, maybe I did. Trying to remember how much I drank, I was unable. I never stopped to think that it wouldn’t be pills that finally killed me, but the same damn thing that was stealing the breath from my daddy’s lungs. People die every day from alcohol poisoning. All of the symptoms the paramedic was listing were classic signs. How could I be so stupid? I just wanted to stop the pain, but not permanently. The prick of the IV in my arm caused another involuntary jerk. I was strapped onto a board and lifted to a gurney.

Rather than panic, I knew what would happen next as I had been here before; however, I may not make it this time. I could feel the presence surround me like a shadow, yet I was not afraid. If God wasn’t done with me, then I would get through this. If not, I was on my way to meet him regardless – at least I hoped. I was told I was on the road to sainthood, yet this journey did not bear the fruit of a virtuous life. As I felt my body transported out of the house and into the loud helicopter, the screaming and yelling faded away as I slipped into the darkness, comforted by the presence.

I chose you because you see me where no one else will

I chose you because you forgive often

I chose you because you love more

I chose you because you are stronger than you think

I chose you because you are mine

The tube went into my nose with force, ripping the delicate tissues of my sinuses and moving down my throat. I relaxed against the pressure of liquid being siphoned from my stomach and replaced with saline. David fought with all of his might to stay with me, but once again, he was exiled from this place. Warm tears rolled down my cheeks and against the pillow where I rested on my side to prevent aspiration in the event I vomited. I could now move a little more, but it didn’t make things easier, only harder.

I would be here for a while until the test measured a sufficient result. I knew gastric lavage was not recommended as a routine procedure, but they were under the impression I had taken in a large amount of oxycodone, and I was unable to defend myself otherwise. Regardless, I fucked up. David told me to watch how much I drank, and I was a grown woman. I should have known that I couldn’t do that. My heart broke, knowing my daddy was in this same hospital, and here I was going through the same thing that fucked me up in the first place. I wished history would choose a happier point in time to repeat.

Once I was wheeled into recovery, a devastated David rushed in and pulled me tight. He was unable to contain the emotion inside once he saw that I was on safe ground. My throat was too raw to talk, and I was too tired to fight.

As he pressed me into his chest, I caught the slight aroma of something unfamiliar on his skin. It was both powdery and musky, yet completely feminine. Feeling confused, my eyes wandered across his face and over the area where I could smell it. Burgundy lipstick marred the edge of the white tank top he was wearing, and it wasn’t mine. He felt me tense and try to shift away from him. He left to be with another woman. I shook my head and pushed him away off the bed. Confused, he asked me what was wrong. Pointing to his shoulder, he lifted up the thin, white band and instantly recognized the evidence.

Only two words left his mouth. “Oh shit.”