Jail Bird

Okay. So this happened to me a few years back, darker the days, darker the brain matter. Telling me how sweet I am, how soft I am, all the lips and teeth and hair confuse me. Can't tell which arm or leg is mine, balancing my eyes between my ears and tilting the dimes so they fall into the water. Rebirth in a single instant, howling through your teeth, I'm grinning. For a little while, anyway. Behind the bathroom door is another story. 

The stepping stones were no match for me. I was too stoned. I fell into the water, simple is that. 

That's the best way to summarize it anyway.

 I was eighteen at the time. I had only been eighteen for a month. It was a blur of a party because this guy had alcohol in the back of his car, and that should be the end of the story right there, but it isn't. 

I could really glorify the whole thing. Let's try it. 

It was cognac, in the back of his car. He had a top hat, all the girls dropped their lips when I walked in the room and I definitely never bent my a*s over and danced on the crotch of some boy I'd never met before. But after the job was done and the windows were good and foggy, my ride left and the party was over. I had nowhere to go. 

But he knew where I could go. Oh so inviting. "Let's do more bad, reckless s**t." 

We stopped at a gas station and this is where I can't make it pretty anymore. I left to go to the bathroom, and then came back and sat exactly where I had been sitting. But he was back there too. This is where I should really censor what happened, and I will, but I'll tell you that he was six-foot and I am only five. 

"Please kill me. Please kill me. Please kill me." I was begging them. I was in handcuffs. I was screaming on the inside, I was rigid from the frozen blood in my veins and I was digging my claws into the backs of my hands because it was the closest thing to suicide I could pursue without actually killing myself. But back then, I hadn't the self-restraint I had nowadays. The entire time was spent sobbing and self harming and planning, oh planning. 

I wish I didn't have a story like this to tell.