So give me all your poison
Without you I'm nothing.
I sit naked in the corner of mattress on the floor of our little bedroom, smoking a joint and biting my nails desperately. I’ve always hated people who smoke in bed because it was very likely you’d fall asleep and burn to death. What an awful death… the stench, the poisonous fumes from the plastic in the mattress, the scorned flesh, drowning helplessly and silently in the sea of smoke. I can see Sam’s shadow on the wall, his chest rising unevenly along with his rapid breathing. Burned to death… what a pathetic way to die. God I’m sick… this is why I can’t get any sleep. I examine my arms carefully, tracing the long and messy lines on my left wrist, the round scars on my inner elbows due to all the venipuncture, the round and red skin on my knuckles. I remember how I used to grind my knuckles with sand paper until they bleed and became numb to the burning sensation. You are not sick but rotten, daddy said so... I whisper to myself. In the back of my mind I can see him clearly. His fierce blue eyes, his alcoholic breath, the lack of expression in his face and he removed his belt to lash me as if it where a task that had to be done: say it again Isobel: I’m a bad girl and I killed Jem because my blood is rotten. JEREMY, Isobel not JEM. I’m a bad girl and I killed Jeremy because my blood is rotten.
Anxiety is creeping into me as I remember things I had long forced myself to forget. I’m choking and I feel like my chest is crushing my lungs. Why remember now? Why remember you? Joint or no joint I’m covered in panic; I need something to sleep, to forget again. I scratch my scarred back nervously leaving red backs all over it as a glance at Sam sleeping. He has written the same phrase on the walls over and over again: “Without you I’m nothing.” I inhale sharply, the cold air piercing my lungs. Does he mean me or the drugs?
I’m trying to think of something else, but all I can see is daddy. Completely hysterical I go into the bathroom and begin rummaging though Sam’s shit, there’s only the usual: razors, comb, some ancient gel, scissors, a very dirty sponge, one or two yellow Nembutal capsules, some Buprenex, the yellow jackets, the needles, some rubbers. Is he mixing?? There’s gotta be something else I can take, something stronger than the fucking yellow jackets. My troat is closing, I’m gasping franticlly for air as I hear daddy’s voice inside my head: “Jeremy died this morning, Isobel. He’s gone”. His glossy blue eyes staring down at me. I was only ten back then but I knew the instatnt he looked at me like that, he had died with Jem aswell.Nembutal numbs all…but you’ll never be able to quit…Though the mirror I see Sam staring at me calmy, smilling. I chug down my last yellow jacket hoping it’ll be strong enough.
“Hey kiddo. Come to bed I’m fucking freezing and you’re going to get pneumonia running around the house naked like that.” He offers me his trembling hand due to all the Nembutal he took earlier I just stare at him. He sighs exhausted..
“C’mon lets go. What are you doing here anyway? Can’t sleep again? Did you have another nightmare? I swear to god I’ll kill the fucker if I ever…” I feel myself beginning to cry. Still I can’t move terrified I’ll remember more. Sam just bends down and picks me up and carries me to the bed. He wraps us in the covers and kisses by cheeks, my tears, the tip of my nose. He cuddles me and plants soft kisses down my spine, rubbing his finger in circled motions around every one of my scars, traces the tattoo on the back of my neck while whispering softly in my ear. “Hey I don’t like you carrying all your men around like this…” I just shug. The scars I can’t erase, the tattoo I won’t.
“If I die… would you also get a tatoo with my name? You have no scar to remember me”
“Youre not going to die Sammy…” I whisper back faintly as I think that I may have no visible scars but Sam has marked every inch of my skin. He exhales tiredly, his hot breath on my neck and ear sends shivers down my spine. I’m beginning to feel very sleepy as he rock us slowly.
“Yeah well… we all die kiddo. But listen, if I did die and you decided to get a tattoo I want you to do it right here.” He trails the skin behind my ear. “So you can’t see it. Just like Jem here on the back of your neck. That way you can always have me whispering nice things to you.” He says as he kisses me softly. The Temazepan is kicking in and I drowsily nod before I fall asleep thinking maybe he did write that about me and not the drugs, all else forgotten.
Anxiety is creeping into me as I remember things I had long forced myself to forget. I’m choking and I feel like my chest is crushing my lungs. Why remember now? Why remember you? Joint or no joint I’m covered in panic; I need something to sleep, to forget again. I scratch my scarred back nervously leaving red backs all over it as a glance at Sam sleeping. He has written the same phrase on the walls over and over again: “Without you I’m nothing.” I inhale sharply, the cold air piercing my lungs. Does he mean me or the drugs?
I’m trying to think of something else, but all I can see is daddy. Completely hysterical I go into the bathroom and begin rummaging though Sam’s shit, there’s only the usual: razors, comb, some ancient gel, scissors, a very dirty sponge, one or two yellow Nembutal capsules, some Buprenex, the yellow jackets, the needles, some rubbers. Is he mixing?? There’s gotta be something else I can take, something stronger than the fucking yellow jackets. My troat is closing, I’m gasping franticlly for air as I hear daddy’s voice inside my head: “Jeremy died this morning, Isobel. He’s gone”. His glossy blue eyes staring down at me. I was only ten back then but I knew the instatnt he looked at me like that, he had died with Jem aswell.Nembutal numbs all…but you’ll never be able to quit…Though the mirror I see Sam staring at me calmy, smilling. I chug down my last yellow jacket hoping it’ll be strong enough.
“Hey kiddo. Come to bed I’m fucking freezing and you’re going to get pneumonia running around the house naked like that.” He offers me his trembling hand due to all the Nembutal he took earlier I just stare at him. He sighs exhausted..
“C’mon lets go. What are you doing here anyway? Can’t sleep again? Did you have another nightmare? I swear to god I’ll kill the fucker if I ever…” I feel myself beginning to cry. Still I can’t move terrified I’ll remember more. Sam just bends down and picks me up and carries me to the bed. He wraps us in the covers and kisses by cheeks, my tears, the tip of my nose. He cuddles me and plants soft kisses down my spine, rubbing his finger in circled motions around every one of my scars, traces the tattoo on the back of my neck while whispering softly in my ear. “Hey I don’t like you carrying all your men around like this…” I just shug. The scars I can’t erase, the tattoo I won’t.
“If I die… would you also get a tatoo with my name? You have no scar to remember me”
“Youre not going to die Sammy…” I whisper back faintly as I think that I may have no visible scars but Sam has marked every inch of my skin. He exhales tiredly, his hot breath on my neck and ear sends shivers down my spine. I’m beginning to feel very sleepy as he rock us slowly.
“Yeah well… we all die kiddo. But listen, if I did die and you decided to get a tattoo I want you to do it right here.” He trails the skin behind my ear. “So you can’t see it. Just like Jem here on the back of your neck. That way you can always have me whispering nice things to you.” He says as he kisses me softly. The Temazepan is kicking in and I drowsily nod before I fall asleep thinking maybe he did write that about me and not the drugs, all else forgotten.