the beginning.

It was well after three am.  Closer to four probably.  Wally had my hand, and I didn’t know whose hand was clammy; mine or his.  We were taking turns leading each other down dark alleyways where couples were having rough sex against dirty walls.  Junkies performed sex acts for money or drugs, I glared in disgust.  I would never sink so low… we went up a flight of stairs and the building smelled like a cheap motel; bad vibes hanging in the air like angry clouds.  How did we get here?  We sold our car close to a year ago, now.  Seven months ago, we collected dead alley cats for a dark figure for $500.  We didn’t ask what he did with them.  All we cared about was the money.  I heard screaming and moaning.  Furniture crashing and someone’s being murdered.  Or having mind blowing sex.  I counted five light bulbs on the ceiling, only one lit the hallway, casting ugly shadows.  Shapeless stains adorn the walls and floors, and I know for sure one pile in the middle of the patterned carpet is vomit.  The corridor was endless and we’d been walking it for centuries.  A tall thin man who looked like death’s older brother skulked by, mumbling incoherently, and for a brief sober moment I was scared.  I squeezed Wally’s hand.

            This is the wrong floor, whispers to no one in particular, including me.  Or the wrong building.  He looked around, never letting go of my hand.  I let my self be lead around, trailing aimlessly behind him.  And we were outside again.  I couldn’t feel the cold, even though I could see my breath.  I was still riding the purple dragon, sailing across a sea of booze.  My ship was made of cotton candy and gravy.  Once on the street my breath melded with the fog that had covered the city, like a giant sheep, the streets were white with random blotches of gray and black.  Alien shapes and noises, time and space moving in opposite directions.  I lost track of Wally.  I reached for him.  Nothing.  I then realized he was behind me.  We started walking again, down darker alleyways where the silence was interrupted by eerie sounds that didn’t connect with my brain.  I heard the sweaty grunts of a fat guy.  We passed a couple fucking with such urgency, I thought they would break through the wall into another dimension.  The girl couldn’t have been more than 15.  Our eyes connected and she smiled – a drunken smile that told me she’d be sore tomorrow.  I pictured her veins, open and flowing with life and death, with the cool feeling that made her glow in the night and proclaimed her queen of the world.  Her tiara made of clandestine needles and diamonds.  Wally pulled me away and advised me not to look at anyone and avoid eye contact, to keep my stare down and disappear.  He didn’t realize that that’s how I felt.  All the time.  I wake up and I have to look in the mirror to make sure I’m still there.  Sometimes it takes me over an hour to find my reflection.  But every time I get high I find a missing piece; an ear, a nose.  A fraction of a soul.  Did that girl need to sleep with that man to find herself? Or did she drown looking for that next fix?  Wally tugged at my arm again, and I tripped and fell into his abdomen.  Be careful, he hissed at me.  Was he scared? Angry? Suffering from a moment of clarity and purity, that time when the drugs almost drain from your system and you start to worry that if you don’t get another gig, reality will set in and it will shatter you.  You’ll become immobilized and so scared that you can’t feel anything but pain.  A pain so profound you can barely breathe, and your next move is to destroy everything in your path.  Because through destruction of the exterior your insides can find peace.  The rage is soothing and you find comfort in that anger.  I hadn’t reached that part yet, and I was blissfully ignorant of my surroundings and the point of our mission, and I just followed Wally, trusting him completely.  I was two sided and numb and someone was screaming in the distance.  Something about being a whore and motherfucker and that this was bullshit.  Then I heard gunshots and then silence.  A dog barked in the distance.  Why were we walking so much?  I was suddenly aware of my body.  My legs were bad milk – not quite liquid or yogurt.  I liked my bra; it held me tight and secure like a bullet proof vest.  My feet were wet. Why? Was it raining? I looked around and saw nothing but darkness and wisps of fog trailing our steps, trying to envelop us in a white cocoon of nothingness.  If we were fast enough, we’d avoid it.  Would we make it back to our apartment, or would the fog get us?