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The first time Tyler had ever held a guitar had been at his friend Michael's house. He and his small group of druggy friends were trying to "act natural" as Michael's mother came strolling in the room. Since Tyler had barely had a hit, his heart was the only one in the room pounding wildly. The rest were too stoned to realize the danger.
"Evening?" he was topless, as he actually prefered to be, a simple black zip-up hoodie dangled loosely from his shoulders as he lounged on a pillow placed on top of Michael's dreser with the guitar in his arms. A large lump in the pillow irritated him and made his already-akward seat yet more uncomfortable. His friends always had him babysit their stashes, but never quite so literally.
When Michael's mother had left the room, the boys wiped sweat from their brows and relit the bong. Tyler, though not usually a dishonest kid, stuffed the large plastic bag in his backpack. He could be halfway home by the time their bowl ran out.
"Hey, Mike, I'm gonna borrow this for a while." he held up both the weed-filled backpack and the guitar. He needed to justify his thievery. He was practically incapable of lying or stealing outright.
"Whatever man," and with that, Tyler left, accoustic guitar in his fist and, nestled safely in the confines of his backpack, something that would change his life.
He zipped up his hoodie to cover his bare chest, feeling a chill down his spine. He was nervous for some reason. He caught sight of a black and white car in his peripheral vision and his heartrate quickened. What made his stomach really sink was that the windows of that squad car were rolled down and he reeked of marijuana.
A policeman's hairy arm hung half out of the passenger side window casually. The nose buried in his large moustache wrinkled. He looked around. Unfortunately Tyler was the only pedestrian on the sidewalks of the suburbs today.
The man leaned over to his partner and said something quietly to him. The car slowed to Tyler's pace and then stopped. The officer got out of the car. Tyler tried to remain calm. "'Scuse me, son. Mind if I talk to you for a sec?" the man asked in a deep voice. His partner was stepping around the side of the car now too and Tyler had the sudden urge to bolt, but he stayed in place.
"Sure." He managed to croak.
The officer removed his flashlight from his belt and shone it in Tyler's eyes. Tyler knew better than to object or turn away. "What's your name, son?"
Tyler flinched and wished the officer would stop calling him son. "Tyler." he relplied evenly.
"Well, let me ask you a question, Tyler. Have you, uh, made use of any illegal substances recently?"
Tyler tried lie, but instead he hissed "Yes," between clenched teeth.
"Oh, you have?" the officer looked taken aback. "Drop your guitar, Tyler." he had regained his composure.
Tyler dropped the guitar. "Raise your hands, please." The officer seemed shocked that he was cooperating.
"Are you under the influence right now?" his partner asked as he removed Tyler's backpack.
"Yes." Tyler wondered how stoned he'd have to be to actually be telling these police officers what they wanted to know.
The moutached man grabbed each wrist and pulled it behind his back roughly, slamming handcuffs down on each, pulling the iron clams down until they pinched his whole wrist uncomfortably. The partner spoke for the second time. "Bob," he called for the attention of his partner, holding out the stuffed plastic bag. It was all of Michael's savings. It stung Tyler to know that Michael had blown a car payment on drugs.
Mr. Moustache's eyes widened and he led Tyler to the trunk of his car. Once Tyler was certain he was going to be stored in the trunk, the officer slammed Tyler against it headfirst with a hand to the back of his neck. His face smarted horribly, but Tyler didn't make so much as a grunt.
"You have the right to remain silent."
This isn't happening
"Anything you say..."
I'm dreaming.
"Can and will be used against you..."
Not me. I'm such a good kid.
"In a court of law."
My life is over.
"You have the right to an attourney."
I can't go on living. I'll kill myself
"If you cannot afford one..."
That's brilliant. I'll kill myself and everything will be over.
"One will be appointed to you...."
Tyler felt as though he needed to cry, but no tears came out.
"Do you understand these rights as-"
"Ty!" Michael's voice, calling, from a distance. He must've realized what was happening, because he didn't hear Michael's voice call again.
"as I have read them to you?"
"Yes."
Tyler spent his birthday in Juvinile Hall. He spent the next four months in Juvinille Hall. He'd been charged with several things he really knew nothing about. His parents had hired him a decent attourney who'd gotten him a decent settlement. This turned Tyler's gut. He'd begged his parents to let him plead guilty. After all, he was guilty. He slept sporratically each night for the next several months, hardly getting a cumulative ten hours per week. He also had no appetite. He shed what few pounds he had and was nothing more than skin, bone and baggy circles.
When Tyler got out of Juvinile Hall and started sleeping again, he began to have nightmares- horrifying nightmares. He conceded that nightmares were worse than struggling through even less sleep. The guilt of "getting off easy", as he put it, was tearing him apart.
~*~
Tyler tried to focus on what was in front of him. His stomach was roiling and he was lying in a puddle of his own blood-riddled vomit. He remembered being angry and being enveloped in light. He remembered feeling warm, but still sick. He remebered choking on a mouthful of saliva he was incapable of swallowing and he remembered hearing a cheerful voice.
He heard someone speaking a language he didn't understand and awoke on a hospital bed. The doctor was speaking in tongues to his parents. They'd hardly been able to look at him since his arrest. What made them bring him to the hospital now.
What shocked him most was his mother. She opened her mouth and spoke fluently in whatever it was the doctor was speaking. The sounds she made disgusted him. She was acting like an animal, slopping, slurping and clicking her tongue.
Tyler opened up his mouth to speak, but choked as he did so. He made another attempt, and just as he was about to get a word out, a cheerful nurse bustled into the room, singing loudly. She ushered his parents out of his curtained-off area of the hospital and even shooed the doctor away.
She turned to him, her blue eyes shocked him and she threw her blond hair over her shoulder. She had stopped singing and had now bent over him, leaning close to his ear. He felt his stomach turn and a shiver run down his spine. She was so beautiful. It enchanted him.
"Galadrio," the woman's voice, even whispering, was spectacular. "I am your mother. We don't have much time. I'm going to do something to you. It will be strange and it won't feel good, but I need you not to cry out." He nodded, staring into those blue eyes again. He realized why they stood out to him now. They were his.
She placed a hand on his forehead and a searing pain shot through his entire body. Why should he trust this woman causing him this much pain? But he kept quiet. He kept quiet for two full agonizing minutes. His body felt like it was on fire. There was no way to be sure of when the pain would cease. The clock seemed to stop ticking for full hours at a time. Finally, relief. He blacked out and awoke, his body tingling unpleasantly, the nurse refilling his IV, smiling.
"Who are you?" he asked, sitting up, which sent a shock of pain through his body that he ignored.
"Oh, pardon me." she smiled so hard she was squinting. "I'm Matilda. I'm your nurse. If there's anything at all I can get-"
"What the hell did you do to me?" Her eyes didn't pop out at him anymore. Her hair didn't seem as brilliantly pure. Her voice, not quite so charming.
She looked a little offended. "I filled up your IV, sir. Just calm down. Should I call for the doctor?" She was young. A fragile hand clenched a silver necklace as she took a defensive stance, letting the clipboard cover her flat stomach.
"No, no." He could have been hallucinating. Or dreaming. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry to have scared you."
He rode home with his parents in silence at seventeen, the day he was discharged. That was the day he started speaking to his birth mother, Effadriella. He knew he was crazy, but her voice was so soothing.
 rane.ben · Fri Mar 16, 2007 @ 01:36am · 0 Comments |
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