The Girl in the Spiked Collar

Hell awaited me through that door. Abuse was common in my family but never to this extent. My parents were never happy with anything I did but they were especially pissed about this. I told them I was touring with Manson and they didn’t believe me. They had no clue about all the things I did and neither did Ronald, my arranged fiancé. We hated each other. I use to love him but that quickly faded after years of abuse and after he raped my little brother Terry. Ronald is a registered pedophile, he usually prays on little girls between 5-12 but for some strange reason, my 3 year old brother was his target. It happened a lot and nothing I did helped. My parents adored Ronald and therefor, nothing would happen; they allowed it to go on. My mother and I use to be best friends, but you could never tell now. My father and I had always hated each other, so that was no loss but sometimes I missed my mom.
Ronald lays on the floor with three 12 year olds, I don’t even want to say what is going on. “I’m cheating!” He happily announced. “I’m not surprised because you are a low down, selfish, dirty, cheating, mother fucking child molesting son of a bitch.” I calmly answer. “Don’t you date talk to him that way! Where the fuck have you been?” My mother screamed. I tell her and all hell breaks loose. Abuse was common in this house but it had never been this bad.
I went down to my room in the basement to sit alone on my bed. Terry stands facing the corner, a shameful look on his face. “Terry, what’s wrong?” I ask. “He hurted me! He hurted me again!” Terry blurted, coming over to grab my leg. “Honey, I’m so sorry! What did he do to you?” I ask. He just cried and pointed to his bottom. Something red is coming from the seat of his khakis. “Did he make you bleed?” I ask. “Yesh!” He sobbed. I hug him. “I am so sorry, Terry. You know if I had my way, that rat bastard would be gone.” “Yesh and mommy don’t love us no more!” He cries. “I know, I know, just calm down, buddy. It’s going to be ok someday.” I say, soothing him to sleep. It is one thing for Ronald to abuse and cheat on me, but messing with my family was a whole different matter. Nothing pissed me off more than what he’s done to my brother.
Throughout the night I find that I can’t keep Manson from my mind. I wanted to bad to go back and do it all over again, just relive it. Withdrawal had kicked in from not smoking, drinking or doing drugs and it was kicking my ass. All of those substances are highly forbidden, dubbed as drugs in my house but I wouldn’t let that stop me from sneaking to the porch during the late night hours and having some cigarettes and alcohol.
I hated school, I hated all the bullies, I hated Kingman, I hated the state but most of all I hated my home life. Only my father was to have a job, house rules. Besides, in Kingman, you are only allowed a job if you are 21 or over, no teens. Otherwise I would have moved out a long, long time ago. However, I made money by selling drugs. I’d sell drugs to whoever would pay me my ridiculously expensive prices for them. That’s how I afforded more cigarettes and alcohol; I worked for a local dealer and we’d split the cash right down the middle. I gave up drugs, I only smoked cigarettes and drank alcohol all the time. That was the only way I could deal with my problems, I didn’t know what to do anymore, so I drank it all away until it became full blown alcoholism.
The school would let us bring clear water bottles filled with only water or water with flavor packets so I’d bring a clear water bottle filled to the brim with Vodka and ten I’d put in four a blue flavor packets, producing blue Vodka. No one would know or really smell it, they’d just smell blue raspberry. Also, I’d bring a jar of peanut butter to take the alcohol smell of my breath. I’d hide my cigarettes in an altoid tin and go behind the school to smoke when they let us have 5 minute break time every four hours for the 12 hours we were there.
Home life wasn’t good. Every night there were sounds of small children being abused by Ronald. Terry slept in my bed because of it, I was the only one who would protect him. Mom constantly blew all of the household money by taking Ronald to strip clubs and buying hookers for him since I wasn’t going to sleep with him. Poor Terry felt not just unsafe, but unloved.
My smoking and alcoholism kept up and the thought of Manson never really left my mind. He was the only thing that kept me going, he’d always been the thing that kept me going.
Two and a half months passed since Denver. Each and every day I’d throw up blood and have a raging fever, headache, chills and all. Puking almost every hour. I chain-smoked and drained a literally a bottle of whiskey and a case of beer each day, but I didn’t care because it shielded me from my troubled life.
Everyone in my house was gone, mom took Ronald to another prostitute and dad was at work. It was just Terry and me. Terry sat in the house watching cartoons as I got up to go to the porch for a smoke. It had been a hard day. Luckily, the next day was Sunday, which the school let us have off, even though we had to attend school on Saturdays. My system had been feeling weird lately but I didn’t care. I drank some more whiskey and took a long drag on yet another cigarette. I blew out thick smoke rings before standing up. My knees buckled and I passed out cold on the front porch.
I awoke hours later in the hospital, Minnie and Terry by my side. “Where am I?” I ask. “You almost died.” Minnie replied. “Wha…” I remembered. All that alcohol. “Nurse, I’m good to go, right? I wanna get out of here.” I say. “Yes, you are fine. You both are.” “Both?” I question. “Yes, you don’t know you’re pregnant?” My head fell onto the pillow. “You’re joking.” I insist. “Nope, you’re going to be a mommy!” Minnie happily exclaimed. That was the moment I decided to stop smoking and drinking. It wasn’t because I almost died, it was because there was some poor innocent baby growing inside me, the baby of Marilyn Manson and if I had known that, I would never have been so selfish and irresponsible.
It turns out Terry called Minnie to take me to the hospital when I passed out the previous night. If it wasn’t for that, I would have died.