Page 7 of Forgive Me Father: For I Have Sinned

AFTER THAT NIGHT THINGSwent from bad, to worse almost. Seems my speeding through the living room during party central wasn’t well received. Shortly thereafter, we came home to find our bedroom door kicked in and what little belongings we had were trashed. We owned nothing of any monetary value and always kept our cash with us. So, when they couldn’t find something worth hawking to score their fix with, they slashed our mattresses out of spite. Of course, none of us could afford to replace them so we made a trip to the Goodwill store where we purchased used bed sheets and to the Dollar Store for duct tape to try and eke out a little more life from the ancient mattresses until we could get the hell out of there.

The food we stored in our room was taken during the raid, and two weeks later we arrived home to find a notice stapled to the front door stating the building itself was being condemned, and we had thirty days to get out. We knew the place wasn’t fit for living in, but the landlord knew those of us in it were desperate. So he took advantage of that until the city took matters into their own hands. With nowhere left to turn and no other affordable living options, I found myself at a crossroads of sorts, and for the second time in my life on the verge of homelessness. A shitty fucking crossroads to be exact, either way, I turned I would be losing what little self-respect I had left. I could ask Jason to set up a meeting between myself and Andre, or I could go groveling back to Doug at Our Secret Place and assume a job of a similar nature to what Andre had in mind. We were beyond screwed, and I couldn’t help but feel like I would be disappointing Cole by going to work for the one man he told me to avoid. Whichever way I turned I’d be prostituting myself in one form or fashion.

No matter how hard I tried to make things better, my life always turned to shit. Would it ever get better? Would the black cloud hanging over my head ever disappear? Forever fleeing home after home. Cast aside by family. Cast aside by society. Is this how my life was meant to be? Seemed a menial existence was all I had to look forward to.

Maybe it would be better if I ended it. It’s not like anyone would ever miss me.On a good day, I didn’t have to ward of the internal struggle. On a bad day like that exact moment, I wished someone would make a choice for me since I was too chicken shit to do it myself.Just make the pain go away…

That was my last waking thought before slipping into a night filled with restless tossing and turning.

I woke the next afternoon to the elevated voices of my roommates. Jason was telling Robert he was going to work for Andre, making a feeble attempt to assure him that he was only working as a drug runner. Like that was any better than selling your body, but I guess that was between the two of them to determine. I laid still, pretending to be asleep as I didn’t want to get involved. I wasn’t sold on that being the onlyjobhe’d be doing for Andre, and I’m not sure Robert bought that either. Especially given Jason’s history within that group. When their voices escalated, they had to have known I’d heard them, so I chose that moment to stretch and yawn and make my appearance.

“Everything okay guys?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes while glancing back and forth between the two of them.

“Jason’s working for that drug dealing pimp!” Robert yelled.

“What choice do I have? I’m not old enough to get a legit job. Doing all the grunt work for pennies won’t help us at all. We only have a couple of weeks left to find a new place, and this pays well,” he grabbed his clothes off the bed before storming from the room, slamming the door in his wake.

Running his hands through his hair, Robert muttered. “This is not good.”

“Ya think?” I’m sure my smart-assed comment didn’t help any, but I was teetering on the brink of my own bad decision.

Robert and I kept to our daily schedule of helping the local shop owners. As our paths crossed less and less with Jason’s, it began weighing heavily on Robert and showed. With each passing day, I found myself venturing closer to Our Secret Place on my way home, which came as a surprise to me considering it was well away from the most direct path home.

We found another affordable shit-hole to live in, only better than the last as it was a studio with no other roommates save for the three of us. Of course, it was governed by another slumlord with no lease, cash only, who was looking to stick it to those of us without options. I swear those assholes congregated nightly to come up with new ways to prey on the less than fortunate. Only in our case, it was Jason who’d found it which led us to believe Andre had his hand in the deal.

Leaving our mattresses behind to go down with the building, we moved the handful of boxes we had between the three of us into the new place. We had to clean and disinfect the furnishings that were there first in the hopes of combating the need for antibiotics later. With Lysol and Rid-X in hand, we spent a full day scrubbing in near silence as it seemed those two still hadn’t made up. If they couldn’t make it work, with both of them already living in the same messed up situation, then how could I hold onto hope that something better could ever come my way?

That I would ever be worthy enough…

Three guys sharing one full sized bed wasn’t going to cut it. I quickly cast my vote claiming the couch. It was just as lumpy as the mattress, so it really made no difference to me. No use getting too comfortable. I was sure that place was on the city’s hit list as well.

Over time, my physical wounds healed, but the scars left behind served as a constant reminder of where I’d come from. Not that I needed them as I’d never soon forget the abuse I’d survived. How any of us had lasted this long, I’ll never know, but somehow we had. It would be nice to believe that it was because some divine entity was watching out for us, but if they had been, I’d like to believe none of this shit we’ve been through would’ve happened in the first place.Would it?

With every passing day in our meager existence, it was becoming easier to understand how some basically threw in the towel and chose the path of drugs in order to cope with life on the streets. Jason, well we weren’t sure what was up with him, but over the following weeks, we saw him less and less. Each time we did catch a glimpse of him, he was looking haggard as hell. The heroin scene on the street was reaching an all-time high, and not a night went by that I didn’t see someone shooting up as I passed them hunched over on the sidewalk. Each time, I scanned their vacant faces hoping, yet not hoping at the same time to find Jason’s peeking out amongst them. The longer it went between days he came home; the darker Robert’s and my thoughts became, and we both feared the streets of Seattle had laid claim to him.

Just when we thought all hope was lost, he came stumbling in looking like he was knocking on death’s door. His cheeks were sunken and pale, dark circles shrouded the areas around his eyes. He’d lost weighttoo much for his already slim frame. His eyes were devoid of life. He was filthy, but he walked over to their bed, curled up beside a now wide-awake Robert and went to sleep. The look of surprise Robert and I shared was laced with fear. We’d seen this zombified trance before, and it never bodes well for the ones in it. Robert knew that as well. His eyes welled up with tears as he curled his larger body around Jason’s, holding him tight in his arms. His anger over Jason’s choices cast aside, at that moment they needed each other, and that superseded any disagreements that had taken place between them.

We agreed to take turns keeping an eye on Jason, while one went out to look for work, the other would stay behind. He slept for fourteen hours straight the first day he was home, not even waking to use the restroom. Alternating between warm and cool compresses on his head, depending on his fever and chills, we kept a constant vigil on him. The bucket beside the bed, filled with vomit was shrouding the air in our small room. I had to flush it before I’d need a bucket of my own. Whenever he woke, it was with a startled combative jump which scared the shit out of both of us. It took him quite some time to get his bearings and realize who we were and where he was. When the vomiting subsided, I ran a bath for him while Robert kept him calm and undressed him. As we lowered him into the tub and the dirt washed away, the track lines on his arms came into view.

He spoke not a word as we bathed him, his vacant expression still far too apparent. We kept our movements slow, methodical, as to not spook him, but in all honesty, we were terrified. Scared to death of losing our friend and in Robert’s case, his boyfriend.

“Baby,” Robert whispered as he filled a cup with water to wet his hair, “can you tilt your head back for me please?” His voice coming out in a cracked whisper. Emotions overtook him as he noted the numerous bruises covering Jason’s frail body. “What have they done to you?” he cried, as he gently washed his hair. Silently, I cried along with him, doing my best to not make a sound as the tears flowed freely down my face. The next thirty-six hours were crucial to Jason’s healing and hopeful return to us. Heroin is one of the most addicting substances on the street, and one many never make the journey back from.

Drying him off, the redness and swelling on his rear end took my breath away, and I gasped. Wordlessly, I gestured to Robert to look, which proved to be a big mistake. He’d had his emotions in check until I’d pointed this out to him. When his sobbing burst forth, Jason looked down at him. Brows knitted together in confused concentration at the stranger making the noises beside him. Robert leaned his head against Jason’s thigh, trying to regain his composure. We’d been taking care of Jason without a thought, but who would be there to take care of us? I wrapped my arm around Robert’s shoulder, and he leaned into me, quivering. I felt horribly for him, for them both. They were the only two friends I had, and I loved them like brothers. It appeared to us that Jason had been passed around like some fucking party favor for those partaking, to do with as they pleased. No wonder he was so fucked up. I didn’t blame him one bit for the need to be numb.

What the fuck is wrong with people? How can they treat another human being this way?Those thoughts I needed to keep to myself as they would only upset Robert further if I shared them.

We slid Jason into a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt before tucking him back into bed. Trying to feed him at this point would’ve been a waste as he’d only vomit up whatever we gave him. Plus, I wasn’t sure he was coherent enough to chew and swallow without choking. I left Robert to tend to him while I cleaned up the bathroom. Taking my time, I needed to get my errant thoughts and emotions under control while allowing them some time together. I wasn’t sure how out of it Jason was at that point, but he’d still not spoken a word, and it didn’t appear he recognized either one of us yet.

Both of us couldn’t afford to stay home with him and risk losing what few jobs we’d managed to secure. I figured Robert would want to stay in, but he seemed to need a break from his hellish reality. By the end of the week, Jason had come around and was able to eat some ramen noodles and crackers, so we were hoping the worst was behind him. What we didn’t count on were the nightmares he proceeded to have since his mind was once again lucid.

Robert was on the receiving end of one too many punches by Jason’s balled up fists while he thought he was fighting off his attackers. Once we were able to get him calmed down, he’d burst into tears and apologize profusely. The things they must’ve done to him must have been utterly horrifying based on his reactions. I’d not yet been privy to the details and determined for my own sanity that I wanted to keep it that way. Our sole focus was on helping our friend work past the pain and get through his recovery period.

A few nights later we got our first break. Jason seemed to have calmed down and was fully functional, as best we could tell. Celebrating that had to wait as money was running out and we needed to get back to work. He assured us he’d be fine and wouldn’t leave the apartment, so Robert and I went together in search of work.

The scene we walked into that night when we returned home still haunts me to this day. More so than the years of molestations and beatings I’d lived through. As soon as we opened the door, we knew something was wrong. All the lights were off. We had a rule that when one of us were out of the house, we left the small lamp on the end table turned on so whoever got home last could see when he came in. No light had been left on. Quickly, we flicked the light switch on the wall, turning on the overhead light and I immediately wished we were sucked back into the blackness we’d walked into.

There in the middle of the floor lay Jason. The needle still hanging from his arm, the rubber band he used to tie off his vein was on the carpet beneath his elbow. Robert ran over, shaking him profusely and yelling. “Wake up! Wake up goddammit! You’re not allowed to leave me!” he screamed as he broke into uncontrollable sobbing, cradling our limp friend in his arms.

I curled up in the fetal position on the couch, rocking back and forth. Tears spilled down my face as I stared at his lifeless body.Would that be me someday?Would I succumb to the same fate?Chances were, the answer to those questions was a solid yes.

I sent a silent prayer out to whatever deity there may be for Jason, hoping he’d finally found the peace he’d never been allowed during his short time on earth. Born into this fucked up life to a mother who was an addict, only to be taken from it in the same manner she was.Rest now dear friend, they can’t hurt you anymore.

When the police arrived, they interviewed Robert and me, taking statements from both along with the neighbors who’d made the call. There really wasn’t anything more that needed to be told as the sight alone spoke for itself. The neighbors had heard Robert’s screams and called 9-1-1. The uncertainty of what they’d be walking into forced the police to take necessary precautions as they kicked the door in and entered with their guns drawn, but immediately put them away once they’d assessed the scene. After the coroner’s office tagged and bagged his body, and loaded it into their cruiser, Robert and I crawled into bed together, holding one another and cried ourselves to sleep.

I woke the next day to an empty apartment. Robert and what few belongings he had were gone. I’d be lying if I said I was surprised, but I knew he wouldn’t be back and hoped he’d find his path in life.

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