My fall from grace is a path littered with broken promises, unrequited love and a veritable forest worth of burnt bridges. There are definitely a handful of people who pushed me further along the path than anyone, but if I'm being honest, I have to admit that I hastened my steps with self sabotage. As the saying goes, and it has never been truer, I am my own worst enemy.
Early on in my life I was a naive, easily dupable child and there was hardly a soul who crossed my path that didn't take advantage. It started with simple tricks, much like pretending to throw a ball for a dog, only they never threw the goddamn ball and I fell for it every time. This led to me becoming a jaded adult who was never able to accept the altruism of another person even when there was plenty of evidence to support the claim.
This mentality led me down, what is obvious from hindsight to be, the wrong path, but such a sight was invisible to me at the time. I dropped out of school during my freshman year, bounced around from one dead end job to another. I threw myself into meaningless relationships and it was in one such relationship that I was introduced to hard drugs.
I'd smoked weed before, mostly to take the edge off, but this was something better. I would pop pills, chew mushrooms, or shoot up, all to make the days meld into one so I could drift along and lose weeks at a time. Eventually my boyfriend at the time got tired of me and kicked me to the curb, and without his endorsement our drug dealer wouldn't even see me, but by that time the damage was done.
I hit the streets because I had nowhere else to go though, all I really wanted was a comfortable spot to curl up and die. I avoided the shelters because I knew they would try to get me clean and the last thing I wanted to be was sober. I did whatever I had to, to get my next fix, but I stopped taking care of myself and I grew so ugly that no one wanted to even look upon me, let alone use me for sexual gratification.
I lived out of dumpsters and crept around the dark places. I was nearly a serpent in every aspect. I would even coil myself into as small a thing as I could when I would bed down for the night. It was the only way to stay warm on the cold, bitter nights. Such a night was this night with me sitting in an alley with my back against a dumpster and a pill sitting in the bowl of my hand.
I pop the pill into my mouth when a sudden flash of light cuts through the dark. It causes me to choke on the pill and spit it up. The drug hits the ground and covers itself in filth. I gaze to the other side of the alley. Had I any drugs in my system I would say I was hallucinating since there's no way I'm seeing what can only be described as a tear in the air ringed with a purple, swirling energy.
The very next second a body flies through the air and smacks against the wall on the other side. The tear disappears, leaving behind a crumpled mess of black. I stand up and walk over. It appears to be a man, dressed all in black, lying in a heap. I wonder if he's dead and I look over the body for bulges that would indicate a nice fat wallet.
I kick the body over and he see he's breathing. Damn! He's still alive. He just lies there breathing in and out. He looks like someone beat the hell out of him. What the hell, I'll play the good Samaritan for now. Who knows, there might be a reward in it. He may even know where I can get my hands on some of the good stuff at a discounted price. Don't make me spell it out.
I use the minuscule strength I have to help him to sit up and lean against the wall. "What the hell happened to you?" I ask hoping to endear myself to him as I strain under his weight.
His mouth cracks as his eyes slowly open. "Where am I?" is the first thing to come out of his mouth as he winces from the pain he must be feeling.
"You're in the ass-crack of nowhere," I respond as I take a seat next to him. "Also known as downtown.
"How long have I been here?" he queries as he slowly turns his head toward me.
"Far as I can tell, you just arrived," I enlighten him as the sound of a skittering rat takes my attention for the few seconds it is exposed.
"I need to get out of here," he says while failing to get back to his feet.
"Why don't you just jump through space like you did to get here?" I inquire as I stifle the laugh in my throat at the absurdity of his motions.
"I can't. I'm too weak," he insists before spitting a wad of blood and mucus on to the street.
"Do you need something to eat?" I carry on as I watch the blood dribble from his mouth onto his shirt.
"And a place to sleep," he informs me as he tries to raise an eye that is far too swollen.
"Well, you won't find any of that here," I relay to him as I look to either opening of the alley.
"Are we near to Jones' Chicken Fryer?" he asks as he wheezes through his mostly closed mouth.
"It's just up the street," I answer as I salivate over the idea of having a meal that hasn't come out of a garbage can.
He takes a moment to breathe. "Can you help me up?" he entreats me as he rests his back against the wall.
I reach down and take hold of his hand as he takes in a deep breath and holds it until he successfully makes it to his feet, upon which he blows it out. He fights to stay upright and I struggle to keep him steady as I drape an arm over my shoulder and hug him close to my side, knowing full well that a gracious man will share his dinner with me.
Together, we walk down the streets and make it to the eatery. I can smell the delicious chicken as it's submerged in oil and fried to a golden brown. This place is different from most chicken joints. They order their chickens whole, minus the feathers of course, and lop off the head and feet before ripping out the chicken's innards and dunking the whole chicken in the fryer.
You order a whole bird, not just pieces. How do I know? They post it right on their door, for all to see, in big, colorful, unmissable graphics. I've never had one myself, but I have dreamed of scrounging up enough money and ripping into a bird that is still steaming from the fryer. I'm salivating just thinking about it. And they're fairly cheap, just fifteen dollars for a whole chicken. But money never lasts long enough to accumulate.
We make it to the parking lot when he breaks free of my hold. Sure, do it on your own. I won't mind being considered chopped liver so long as there is a sufficient reward in it for me. He continues to stagger, but soon musters enough strength to walk on his own. We pass by the main entrance and make our way to the back. He opens a dumpster and fishes about inside.
My heart sinks. I was really counting on fresh meat, but garbage chicken will do in a pinch. It is nothing short of amazing how much edible material is left on the bones people throw away. Not to mention the bits of cartilage and soft bone which chew up rather nicely. Ah, to be rich and therefore not care where my next meal is coming from.
He throws a clear bag full of entrails onto the ground, turns around, rips it open and starts chowing down. He chews on any meat he can find which includes gnawing on bones. The food has an uncooked white pallor, never even seen a fryer, and I feel as though I would throw up from watching the display. Then I have a thought and decide to pursue it.
"You know uncooked chicken will make you sick, right?" I remark as I head toward the dumpster.
"It hasn't yet," is his simple response between mouthfuls.
"You make it sound as if you eat this stuff regularly," I posit as I dig in the dumpster.
"Often enough," he enlightens me as he snatches another morsel from the bag.
"Don't you have a home?" I asks as I set a different bag on the ground and tear into it.
"There is a place I can go," he informs me and chomps on another gizzard. "But I try not to go there too often."
"How come?" I query as I rip the bag and snag some chicken bone with meat still on it.
"There is bad blood between me and my family," he proceeds cryptically and gnaws another bone.
"I know exactly what you mean," I respond and tear some chicken skin before shoving it in my mouth. "Family can be some of the worst people on the planet. They know exactly where all your vulnerabilities lie and their claws are so sharp they can rip through your armor and tear into your soft, warm flesh. They cut you into a million, tiny pieces which they use to garnish their toast."
An uncomfortable silence pervades my statement as we both continue to chow down.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" a voice shouts from behind us.
I don't even bother to turn around. "Run!" I scream and bolt from my place.
I hurry as fast as my legs will carry me and I can hear foot falls behind me. I assume it to be the gross chicken eater, who must be able to recover faster than most people. I see a short wall directly ahead and hop over it as I drop on the other side and prop my back against it. My companion, of a sort, comes scrambling after and falls over the obstacle.
"Damn, homeless," I hear a grumble on the wind that soon intensifies. "Leave me a mess to clean up all by myself!"
I huff as I try to bring my breathing under control. He looks worse off than I do. But then, he already looked that way when I first met him. I hold my place for several moments, but don't hear anyone pursuing us. I decide to give myself a little more time just to be sure. I could use the rest anyway.
"We need to get out of here," I level at him and rise from my place.
He nods and we carry on. I know a good place to bed down for the night. We arrive at an abandoned warehouse and I climb onto the loading dock. The first thing I notice is that we are not alone. Not surprising, this is a homeless hotspot. It's far enough outside of police patrols that they usually leave us alone.
I see several familiar faces and we nod in recognition as I continue on to a nice dark, secluded corner where I'm joined by the beat-up guy and we both sit and relax ourselves. I take a moment to just breathe as I sit myself against the wall while he does the same. All is quiet and I allow my muscles to relax to their fullest extent.
My eyes start to feel heavy, but I'm not finished yet. "What are you doing out on the streets?" I start in as I shift my gaze toward him.
"What do you mean?" he returns as he raises his head toward the ceiling.
"You definitely know your way around a dumpster, but you have that ability to create portals, I assume," I proceed as I turn my body around.
"I do indeed have the power to create tears," he informs me as he allows his eye to focus on me.
"Then why aren't teleporting into bank vaults and taking money, or into department stores and taking whatever it is you need!" I find myself raising my voice as I use my hands to emphasize my point. "Why live the harsh realities of the street when you could be living a life of ease!"
"My abilities are something I was gifted at great cost to myself," he explains calmly, undeterred by my tone as he lowers his head and focuses on me. "They are only to be used in pursuit of truth or to help those truly in need."
"And you don't think I fit that bill?!" I challenge as I punch the wall.
"There are a great many homeless who have fallen into this life through no fault of their own and a leg up would likely help them to reclaim their life," he continues as he stares deep into my eyes. "But your soul tells me that you are one of the few who destroyed their lives of their own volition and any help you receive will prove a wasted effort."
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TO JUDGE ME!" I shout as I crawl forward to get in his face before lowering my voice again. "You have no idea who I am or where I come from and you have no right to make assumptions!"
He holds silent as he relaxes his gaze. "It was wrong of me to presume," he utters and backs down from my advance. "I apologize for my insolence. Sometimes I forget that my abilities are not absolute and they can possess just as fallible a perception as my other senses."
I pull away and sit back down as I act like his immediate apology didn't shake me with its suddenness.
"The one thing I can tell is that you are accustomed to broken promises and a distrust of words," he continues as he gazes upon me. "But I vow to you that I will repay the kindness you have shown me this night."
I seek out a corner as I disregard his words. I have been lied to by too many people to ever trust what another person says. I find myself a spot and curl up. I shut my eyes and listen to the quiet sounds of the city all around me, a lullaby if I ever heard one. I drift into the void and leave the waking world behind.
I wake with a start and find myself naked and kneeling with my arms spread across a metal bar and a chain slinking its way around my body and locked in place with a single lock hanging from my neck in the shape of a heart. It all feels cold and as I look around me I find myself in the middle of an open circle with primitive buildings lining its border and nothing but darkness beyond.
A little girl breaks into my vision from out of nowhere. She's carrying a bundle of sticks which she drops directly in the center. I call out, but find I have no voice to speak with. She continues her back and forth journey into the darker area and always brings back more sticks. Soon there is a mound of wood, the pinnacle of which is just as tall as she is.
She finishes with a final bundle of sticks before dropping to her knees directly in front of it. She drops her head into her hands and starts crying as though she has just lost her best friend. Her tears seep through the cracks in her fingers and drip upon the collected wood. After they fall they slither their way around the sticks till they are completely coated.
The girl stops crying as though she were merely turning off a faucet and all that remains of her sorrow are red rings around her eyes. She raises her head and walks back into the darkness. She comes back with a knife and each step she takes to the piled wood makes it shudder and slowly form into the top half of a giant woman who lays her body low and extends her hands past her head.
The girl walks up the supine back and stops directly at the start of the feminine form's shoulders. She drops to her knees, raises the blade high in the air and drives it down deep and hard. The woman made of wood shudders and balls her fists as she draws them close to her body all the while her mouth remains shut as she silently screams.
She arches her back and rises her body as she lifts her open hands to the sky before ripping away the wood that keeps her mouth shut. She screams with a tremendous force that rocks the very ground as a fire erupts from her throat. The blaze becomes a torrent that rises high into the sky and cuts through the darkness. All the while the girl holds on to the knife as her body hangs from it.
Fire rains down from the sky, but only catches inside the circle and affects nothing else within the clearing. It burns the woman and she quickly becomes a raging inferno while the girl is swept up and disappears into the flames. The fire consumes every last inch of the woman and her body slowly succumbs as, inch by inch, she loses the fight.
The woman is now gone, burned to ash. There is only the fire which continues to rage. The girl emerges from the scorched ground completely unharmed, though she has not the blade. She returns to the darkness, but she isn't gone for long and when she comes back she's dragging a body tied up in a sack with only the head exposed.
I look closely at the face and see it belongs to that of my younger brother. He's screaming and wriggling his body, but the girl doesn't seem to care and she seems too strong for him to break of her grip. She pulls him along and it's obvious what is to happen next, into the fire they both go. My brother screams as he has never screamed before.
I'm fighting to free myself as I dig my feet into the dirt as though that would somehow dislodge the bar and allow my arms to break the chains that hold me back. The screaming stops and the girl reemerges from the inferno. She makes her way back to the darkness and doesn't seem to care about my plight, or she is oblivious, either case I have no way of knowing.
Another body, this time my former best friend. She goes into the fire and the parade continues. My parents. My grandparents. Teachers that I kept in touch with. Even the man I used to buy doughnuts from. Basically anyone who ever meant anything in my life is dragged kicking and screaming into the fire while being thrust up in a sack that makes all of their activities futile.
Tears are streaming from my eyes and my silent voice has grown hoarse from my screams which accompanied each new victim. I no longer try to struggle since there are no more people for the flames to consume. I watch the girl leave the fire for a final time and she has the knife in her hand. It glows white from the intense inferno it had been bathed in.
For the first time she turns her head and gazes upon my restrained self. There is nothing but indifference in her eyes. She walks over to me and places a hand on my shoulder. She looks me dead in the face as she pushes the knife through the keyhole of the lock which melts away like butter and falls to the ground while the chain unravels and meets the same fate.
She isn't finished yet. She keeps pushing the knife as it touches my skin and sizzles from the extreme heat. I cry out and this time I have a voice. I beg her to stop, but she doesn't. The knife pierces my skin, cuts through my bone and ends up lodged in my heart. After that the girl blows away in the wind and falls upon the ground while the knife drives deeper.
I wake with a start and this time I'm more certain that it's reality since I'm lying on the cold floor of an abandoned factory. I flash a look to the man I had brought here, only he isn't there. I ask around and am told that he left roughly the same time as the sun rose. I look around the outside for good measure. There's no mistaking it, he's good and gone.
I sit myself down on the loading dock and gaze at the sun as it rises way up high above the city, while we ants toil far below. I try my utmost to piece together what happened last night. Did I really see a man jump through the air out of nothing and eat uncooked chicken? It seems crazy and I know crazy. I hop down onto the street and start walking.
I focus on my dream and how disturbing and downright creepy it all was. I'm nothing close to an expert in dream analysis so there is no way for me to fully understand what I dreamt, but that doesn't stop me from trying. The one thing I think it was trying to tell me is that I did this to myself. The thought feels like the knife did, only this time it burns me from the inside out.
My fault?! That can't be right! I'm not the one who walked out when things got too tough! I'm not the one who decided my career was far too important to show any compassion for anyone! I'm not the one who put me up on a pedestal and kept away the realities I needed to face and simply watched when I was toppled and fell to the ground! None of it is my fault, none of it! And I dare anyone to say different!
I walk down the street with my hands shoved deep in my pockets. I pass by all the people with noisy, busy lives that just pass right on by. I'm unaffected by the stares I receive. To them I'm just another homeless beggar who makes their lives so much worse by being a drain on society. But I'm more, so much more. And if I have to, I'll prove it.