His mistress Crack Cocaine ~ Part I

Things alter for the worse spontaneously, if they be not altered for the better designedly. ~Francis Bacon

 

 

 

Her eyes flash fear as she wakes up in the morning. Her hand slips to her pillow, underneath, checking for her wallet and car keys. What will today bring? Will it be the drugs for him, crack cocaine is his mistress. Binges that last for days on end. Ending with a phone call to please come and get him. She has lost money, possessions and cars. An addiction that he desires, consuming his life. Beg, steal and use is what he knows. His words to her ~ “I won’t ever stop, it is my escape“. What exactly is he trying to escape from? How can any person become so consumed with something that is ruining everything in their life? She wonders in her mind. How do I break free? What do I have to do to get away? How can I love him, when he can’t even love himself? She has been to the “meetings” running side by side at his attempts of sobriety. “Ninety day chips” that collect dust, holding no meaning to him. She knows in her heart, that he will choose his mistress over her, over their son growing in her womb ~every time.

 

It is never a matter of “if” it is a matter of “when“. When will she again have to make excuses to friends and relatives that he is “sick” or he is trying…When will he see that his drug addiction is not only killing him, it is killing her. When will he understand that it is mind over matter. When will be the next time he uses, and she hides he possessions from his stealing heart. Her mind drifts wanting to not wake up. Waiting for the day to come that all the pain is gone from her life. Her heart aches from the love she has for a man that will not love her back. She lies in bed, feeling her tummy, bloated, full and the baby inside kicking. “What should I do?” she thinks in her mind. She has a life growing in her. She has more to think about that the pain of her relationship, a man and a mistress that he will not say no to. She can’t handle anymore stress or pain. So why is she still here? What keeps her hanging on?

 

Once she knew a man, that was handsome, beautiful in body. He took her places in her spirit and soul that no other man had. The sex was intense. There was laughing, fun and a lighthearted nature to their relationship. She once was proud to be draped on his arm, walking side by side. She was proud when they were admired as a “handsome couple”. One day… the glass shattered in her picture perfect world. He left and didn’t return for days. She didn’t understand. She cried, and wept. On the fourth day, the phone rang. He asked for her to come get him. She was afraid and confused. He was in the worst part of the big town they lived in. Most people wouldn’t drive there at night, out of pure fear. Two in the morning, she got dressed and headed downtown. He was right on the corner, where he said he would be. He stepped into the car…and the beautiful man she had known, was not there. He looked sullen, face sunken in. He was dirty and carried an odor that couldn’t be placed. They returned to her apartment. When inside, she cried. She wanted an explanation. Why? She wondered. Why would you hurt me this way?

 

He looked at her, but would not make eye contact. He glanced down toward his feet, then up toward her face. At that moment he told her that he has an addiction. His mistress was crack, and when she called to him, he would leave and commence to do her bidding. He lied, stole, begged, and hurt anyone or anyway to satisfy his lady. She sat awestruck, in total disbelief. Here was a man that was beautiful. Crack addicts are nasty, and dirty. Their teeth are missing and their lives shattered and torn, as they lie on park benches in roam the streets. This surely could not be the man that was before her. However… as the years passed, it was him, it was his life.

 

For many years she tried to fix him. Tried to encourage the sobriety. Tried to show the damage in cheating with the mistress crack cocaine. How it ruins lives, how it begins to tear apart love, life and family. She stood by him, trying to be the rock for him to lean on. The only rock he wanted was the crack rock… smoked in a pipe, from every makeshift “pipe” he could create. Broken antenna’s, tools such as sockets, metal pens, glass pipes. All stuffed in the end with mesh made of metal. As the lighter lights the end heating up the crack, the popping and sizzling sends eeire sounds flooding her ears etching in her mind. She watched him a few times get high…”escape from reality”. It was a tormented journey, and she never could understand how someone could allow something to control them.

 

On this journey, he would become some other person. His facial expressions actual changed, he became someone she did not know. He would sweat, stutter and pace the floors. Paranoia was an understatement. He lurked in shadows of the house, peeking through blinds and jumping at every noise. He would hunch over in the corner, pushing the pipe to “repack” or “readjust” the crack rock, trying to get one more hit. Shaking he would jump up and move toward the door. She watched him, and was nauseated. She couldn’t believe that people did this. That people acted this way. Maybe her life had been sheltered. But THIS?? She would make attempts to doze off in sleep, but for every movement, he would come to the room. Moving things around looking for whatever he thought was there, whoever he thought was hiding from him. Hallucinations that were so extreme… he would lift her legs, hands and pillow looking for her to be hiding something ~someone. She never knew what he was looking for, his words so incoherent that she couldn't understand him ~ she only knew that she wanted sleep.

 

 

Reviews

[TeacherAtHeart]

What a story..both shocking and yet very intriguing.
Your story has touched my heart.
You have a true gift..take hold of this gift and let it set you free.