I walk to the counter to get a drink and then go sit on a stool in front of the entrance to the club . Thoughts swirl in my head and I quickly realize that I ’ ve made a mistake . I left the other side too soon trying to get some relief from the memories that were building , of woman , of violence , of being a worthless nigger , of ……. but it backfired and now my thoughts run rampant .
You ’ re a fucking idiot . There is no escape .
I ’ m assaulted with haunting thoughts , taunting memories and painful truths . For me there is no escape . Not ever . I get up from my stool once again and walk back to the counter .
“ Let ’ s do a line before the crowd ,” I say to the bartender . “ Fuck yeah ,” she replies .
When I return to the entrance ten minutes later people are just starting to come into the lobby , so I stand at the door and check IDs before letting them into the club . It ’ s a much younger crowd then the one at the other bar . I fucking hate checking ID .
The crowd grows quickly , and the club becomes packed as young people from the other side tire of the cover band , anticipating wild times in the club after midnight .
The cocaine , the booze , the nicotine , and my own thoughts and emotions , cause me to buzz like a ticking time bomb . I look at the IDs that are handed to me and the faces that belong to them , but I am barely cognizant of the connection between them . My energy has built to such an extreme level that it becomes its own source of distraction , and my murderous , suicidal thoughts find a resting place amid the buzz .
My supposed suicide attempt that caused me to be taken to the hospital and admitted to emergency ten months ago was really just an accident . If I ’ d taken enough of the painkillers to actually kill myself , well that would have been fine , but at that time I was mostly just tired . Now …. it won ’ t be an accident when it happens . There is only one thin strand left , holding me back .
Someone has to pay ! Light , dark , people and noise all blur together .
When Bryson and Phil walk through the front doors and push past the growing line of people , I let them take over at the door so I can escape to the dark corner of the night club . From this new vantage point in the darkened corner , I can see over the tables that line the quickly crowding dance floor and past the bodies to the front door .
My hands clench and release , clench and release , clench and release ……. and my foot taps against the floor as I lean against the wall . My teeth grind and my cheekbones feel numb , I can feel them bulge through the almost sickly thin skin of my face .
A smoke machine with strategically placed openings forms a thick haze punctured by the pulsing strobelight , creating an eerie staccato glow through the fog like mist . The club is getting packed . Many of the girls are clearly underage , but management has requested that the doormen bar no one who can produce a reasonable fake ID . Everyone except the ridiculously young or falling down drunk are allowed entry . My drunken high quickly becomes a familiar feeling and my angst grows .
Now what ?
I try to distract myself by spotting fellow passengers on the crazy train . People with chitter chatter mouths , their tongues rolling against the underside of their gums to feel the numb sensation and their pupils dilated like headlights are a dead giveaway . Noticing the tell-tale drug-induced actions of others