99 Ways to Save a Life

I am indestructible. I am invincible. I am immortal. I am God.

That's all I ever had to repeat to myself day in and day out. Those four, short sentences got me through every party, every bottle of pills, and every boy. Those sentences put a smile on my face, made me feel like my spirit was trying to soar out of the tips of my toes and fingers in pure euphoria. Every rush, every invasion, every orgasm was defined by those words and those words alone.

People often told me that I had no emotions. In condemning, rushed tones, they'd say, “Sofia, are you a robot with no flesh, no blood, no heart? How is it possible to live as you do and not feel a thing?” I'd smile at them, lipstick smudged and low budget liquor in hand, and reply, “Because I'm God, that's why, and you can't fuck with God.” It worked until the first day somebody denied me everything.

It was time for the verdict from the judge. My palms were sweaty and I could feel the moist droplets on my neck and forehead – but that was only from the heat in the room, not my nerves. As the judge entered the room, I smirked at her. There was no way she could take me down. Sofia lived forever.

“After much consideration,” her voice boomed from the stand, “the verdict given by the court is an option of two. Your first option would be send you to Juvenile hall for one to three years, or you could spend your time at Camp Conquer, a beneficial camp for troubled young adults.”

My jaw stiffened and my hands hardened into fists. I stood up and screamed, “Like hell I'm going to either of them! You won't make me!” My lawyer tried to make me sit down again, but I just shrugged him off.

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Did I miss a completely logical reason that would justify you’re out-of-order rejection?”

It came to me just like that and I grew smug, wearing my smirk again and folding my arms across my chest. “Because I'm God, that's why, and nobody, including the law, can fuck with God,” I spat in a low voice.

The judge didn't seem shocked by my statement like the rest of the audience behind me. In fact, she smiled pleasantly and said slowly, “Watch me.” With a raise of her hand, she smacked the gavel down on the cherry wood desk. “Case closed.”

My heart flew up to my throat and my blood boiled. As the police came over to handcuff me (for the mere theatrical qualities, of course), my mother got up out of her seat and walked over to me, eyes on the floor in front of her. She couldn't even bring herself to look me in the face.

“Are you sorry now?” I choked out. I wasn't even close to crying, but the anger was starting to get the best of me. It’s my mother's fault I'm here. If it wouldn't have happened... I'd be better off than I was now. “I didn't hear you!” I demanded my voice and emotions raw. “Are you sorry now?!”

“Yes,” she whispered to her feet, to the floor, to the demons, “I'm so sorry, Sofia.”

I grinned and looked at the police officers behind me. “Take it away, my good men.”

They both rolled their eyes, but took me roughly to the door on the side of the court anyway. The sound of my mother's loud sobs filled the air and I raised my chin high and smiled.

I am invincible.

Fast forward to the day I arrive, the day they check me in, the day I get to my new home.

Everything is gray – the walls, the beds, the doors - or anyway, it was to me. I growled and threw my duffel bag onto the shitty bed, hoping that it breaks, that everything here breaks like I was broken, like they were trying to break me. Of course, it doesn't even dent; it merely bounces briefly from the force. In my hand was a crumpled piece of paper with words I'll never need typed neatly on it - some information on this help group bullshit that's apparently “required” to get out of this hell hole. On it, too, were the name of the kids attending the group session - Anansi, Leah, Ciara, Blythe, etc. All weird, fucked up Christians names, I thought to myself, chuckling darkly. Like hell I'm going to go there. I tossed it to the ground, smirking at my intentions of skipping.

I angrily zipped open my duffel bag and took out my small wardrobe containing a feeble collection of jeans, wife beaters, and underwear. That was all I had time to pack since it took me a hell of a long time to get out the house. I frowned at the memory and shoved a couple of jeans in the wooden drawer.

My hands were shaking; my mind was swirling and buzzing from the pills I'd swallowed and the sex I'd just took part of only seven or so minutes ago. It'd all felt so amazing – the smooth surface sliding down the inner, slippery walls of my throat, then the feeling of satisfaction and adrenaline when the climax finally hits you deep within the pit of your stomach. The magic fizzes and explodes. Your heart implodes and your body grows limp with ecstasy.

I knew the escorts were waiting for me downstairs, but this was just too good. Too beautiful. Too god-like. Too fantasy-enriched to waste away on the law.

“Sofia,” my mom's soft voice floated to me. I heard her feathery-light footsteps fly up the stairs. “Sofia, are you ready?”

I smiled to myself and laid still on my bed.

My door creaked open and I knew that it was my mom immediately. When she saw me lying on the bed, she softly sighed. “Oh, Sofia. My baby.”

I turned my head to the side - though even that was a huge effort – and smiled at her sluggishly. “Hey, Mom. Come to say goodbye to your drugged up daughter?”

She fluttered over to me and sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing out my sweaty hair. I knew she could smell the sex; I could, too. “What are you doing to yourself?”

“I'm loving myself,” I said clearly, surprising enough. “You wouldn't understand.”

“How do you know that?” Mom demanded, her voice growing dim with tears. “How do you know I don't know what it feels like?”

I didn't respond.

“Sofia, explain it to me,” she almost pleaded, taking my hand. “I'll try to understand you.”

“Too good, Mom,” I muttered to myself. I slipped my hand out of her grip. “Too good to share with people who aren't gods.” I turned away from her, rolling lazily onto my side.

With that, I could feel my mom's body wilt and melt. She was finally giving up and I was finally free. I sighed happily and let myself slip into the darkness, but not before my mother's voice pierced the veil that was gently closing over my eyes.

“Keep moving, Sofia. Just keep moving.”