Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for language and violence.
"Get outta here! And don't you dare show your face again," a muscular, threatening bodyguard shouted and threw me out of the front door of the club Ecstatic. "But what about my..." I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. I was already alone on a crowded street.
Everything was a blur. All I could see were the neon signs of the nearby shops and traffic lights. It was one bizarre Tuesday night. There were unusually many cars riding around and the streets were filled. You can usually this scene on a Friday night.
I slid my hand into my pocket, realizing I won't find my wallet there as I left it inside. I had my phone, though.
When you're little, your parents often warn you about trusting strangers. At this moment I understood how right they were. I felt my head getting heavy. "It's some good stuff, trust me, try it," I remember a guy from the club saying. Whatever that shit was that I took in, it started to fucking work.
I felt as if I was shivering all over my body. That must've only been an inside shiver, because otherwise people would've come up and asked me if I was alright. Drugs always mess you up from the inside first and when they do, it's already too late to find help for yourself.
I just stood there for what felt like ages. Right in front of the club Ecstatic, where I got kicked out from. It was like my mind was set on over-drive, but at the same time I thought about nothing. It was all a haze. When I finally returned to reality, it was all the same as before. The same blurry faces and the same blurry cars and the same blurry street lights.
"I must've been tripping," I thought to myself and felt disappointed. You expect to see rainbows, unicors and people with distorted faces while you're tripping, but I saw nothing like that. I was furious. Was this all for nothing? The only reason I took this bloody pill was because I wanted to get away for a moment and enjoy the ecstasy that it's supposed to create. It turned out to be all for nothing.
As I was just about to give up hope and return home, it hit me like a tidal wave. If you were to ask me, what I was doing on the night of September 9th, I couldn't answer you. I've had few flashbacks, but mostly people just told me what had happened.
Apparently I started calling the people I had on my phone. This is confirmed - you can tell that by my call log. At 11:47pm I made the first call to a mate, who I had met in LA and who I hadn't seen in ages. I asked him if he's available to meet up and party. He tried to remind me that he had left LA a few months ago to move to Seattle, but I was pissed. I called him a liar and started ranting about my non-existant social life. Funny enough, I said all the things I was too afraid to say when I was sober. Turns out drugs aren't as bad for you after all.
I called to a lot of people that night. None of them agreed to hang out with me.
I understand, because I would've done the same if some lunatic called me in the middle of a Tuesday night, but at the same time I've always been wondering if things were different then. Maybe the night wouldn't have ended the way it did.
At 12:23pm I decided to give up my search of a drinking buddy. 5 minutes later I raided the nearest booze store and got myself a bottle of tequila. I didn't buy any lemons, though.
By 1:30pm I was already 8 miles away from the club. I don't remember a lot about that area, but it turned out to be a very wrong place to be in.
Every city had one of these. A place you'd better not go to at night, you know, for safety reasons. They usually have a high crime rate.
I ended up in one of the ghettos, the area for people you don't want to mess with. If you're not one of them, the gang will already have a problem with you, even if you did nothing wrong.
Even worse, when you did...
I've never considered myself to be a brave, dauntless man. I'm just a musician who lives in a tiny, shitty studio apartment in LA and tries to make it to the industry. I wouldn't hurt a fly.
But as we have all learned from experience, alcohol is one hell of a drink. Plus, I was high on some weird shit. I was basically intouchable.
I don't know how or why, but I got into a fight with two buff gang members. They were twice as big as me. Seriously, don't ask, why. I have no clue how it started of why did they even approach me in the first place.
One thing I do remember - the raw hatred that was boiling up inside me. Usually I would've been terrified, but not this time. I didn't run from the pain this time.
This was probably my first proper fight I've ever been in. I've been in mosh pits and a couple of bar scruffles here and there, but they were nothing comparing to this.
But soon the alcohol started to weaken my body, especially my legs, so it didn't come as a surprise to me when they tackled me to the ground. They just left, while I was still laying down on the cold, cracked asphalt, coughing out my lungs. Of course cops weren't involved, it was a ghetto. Expecting any kind of help was ridiculous.
I used my last strenght to get up. I kept on moving for a while. I still have flashbacks about this journey. Scary, dark village with wretched huts changed to mountains and forests. Must've been a village of wealthy people, I thought, as all the houses looked very luxurious. I, of course, thought it would be a really good idea to invade one of them.
I'm a horrible thief. How did I think this would be a good idea? A thing every rich person knows how to do is to protect their wealth.
I was caught trying to climb over a fence. Fucking movement detectors. As soon as my feet touched the ground, a loud alarm started to hoot. To my surprise, this crib belonged to one of the most paranoid, careful rich guy I've met in my life - and trust me, I've seen many of them. I didn't notice him as he tackled me to the ground from behing. I was struggling under him and hit him to the most sensitive area of male body. He squealed in agony and I knew it's now or never. I ran as fast as my legs could carry and jumped over the fence. Astonishing, what a human body can do. I heard him yell: "You can run, but you can't hide! I'm going to call the cops!"
Enough was enough. I gave up the thought of invading another house and returned to the main road.
Whenever I tell people about this story, they ask me why I did it. That was the most definite way to jail as the cops were driving around, looking for me. I don't know what I thought at that moment, but as I've been told, I was crying hysterically when they finally found me. I suppose the sudden realization kicked in?
At the police station, I was interviewed and they also gave me a medical exam. I heard two of the officers talking about it.
"So?" one of them asked. "Things are not good," he mumbled. "Metamphetamine."
Shortly after that conversation I was thrown in to a jail cage to spend the night. They let me go the next morning, promising to contact me when they want to see me in the courtroom. Oh, of course - court. And I thought I would get away with no punishment.
To this day I can't forget the officers from that police station. The way they looked at me - it was a mix of despise, pity and judgement. It was like they were secretly laughing at me. "Look, what a fool he is!" One of the officers offered me a ride, but I didn't take it. His judgement was the last thing I needed at this moment. I was so empty and so shocked.
I decided to walk back to the city. The journey was about to take a while and I decided to unravel my emotions. I broke down and started sobbing desperately. Oh my god, what have I done? I just wanted to be happy! I just wanted to feel like a human for one fucking night! It's not like I planned it to go this way!
I sat down on the side of the road and hid my face in my hand, as if someone was looking at me and I tried to hide my shame. I couldn't keep quiet. I started screaming. For the first few minutes, everything seemed hopeless. If someone popped a bullet in my head then, I wouldn't have cared. But it gets better - it always does. When I had been crying for a while, I felt faith entering my body again.
Then, a red SUV stopped next to me. The driver pulled down the window and asked if I was alright. When I lifted my head for a reply, I saw the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. Her olive green eyes complimented her curly, lushious red hair. She didn't smile, but if you concentrated, you could see a hidden smirk. I found her voice really calming. Her look wasn't filled with judgement - it's like she had been in the same situation before, like she knew how disappointment felt. I would've been a fool if I didn't accept the request.
And from this day, she was my one and only inspiration. Thinking back, I can't understand how I lived without her. I feel her and she feels me, unconditionally. I knew she was the love of my life from that one compassionate look she gave me.
She treated me like a human when no one else would.