2

You can’t start over with each new second but that seems to be how I live my life. Nothing is real except the present, but the weight of the centuries smother me even though they were so long ago. Someone, somewhere, hundreds of years ago once lived as I do, and she is gone. Did she make a mark, did she matter, and did she feel as I do? Some day I will go to, but as I lay here in hospital gowns I know I don’t want to die.
This continuous quicksand is winning and I don’t know how to swim. “What drugs did you take?” says the doctor as he judges me, raising his overgrown eyebrows high. “I don’t know, maybe cocaine, maybe some pills.” He looks at the nurse I know that he wants to fuck. She has a real job. She has a real life. She probably had a family. She is Snow White, Cinderella, and Rapunzel, and she is acting like the all American virgin ready to pounce. I hate her. Why is she staring at me taking notes like I’m on trial? I had sticky pads holding cords all over my body. My heartbeat was echoing slowly on the monitor but my mind was racing as it always does. I hope the club doesn’t hear about this. They don’t like negative attention and this is a huge fuck up. If they saw me like this, I wouldn’t be allowed to hang around, and earn my respect. Another overdose. I had this part of my life down, and did it well.
Within minutes the team of white intellects are restraining me and shoving a clear plastic hose down my throat. I gag and fight but they win as they shove it, cutting the sides of my throat like a sword. Black charcoal shoots inside and I know I need more oxygen. My nose has a deviated septum and I can’t breath through it. I close my eyes and pray, feeling like a prisoner of their will. I throw up my black-charcoaled insides, topped with colorful pills like a candy factory. It’s over. I can rest. I can get out of here. I want to stay under the radar and don’t want Dr. Jessica Shaw to notice I’m here. She has a way about her that I don’t like, but my respect for her isn’t hostile. I know when to stay out of the way, and when to sparkle. Now is the time to disappear and stay out of the way. I fucked up.
I stare at the neon white ceiling and think about the club. They don’t like things like this, and this event will certainly not help me get closer to them. Why did I have to take that last pill? If only I would have just drank some of the toilet water I spilled my drugs in, maybe that would have been enough to hold me over. I don’t want to be a junkie; I just want to change, someday. I slip my hands between my thighs and masturbate away the feelings alone in my room. I imagine the club gang banging me. Tonight I am ugly; I have lost my ability to attract males. And in the life of a Skulleater, that is a rather pathetic. I orgasm all over the sterile sheets and finally feel alone. Alone. Alone. Alone.