Descent

BY: John Wayne  Arnott
         This is a work of Fiction. The names and identifying characteristics of any individuals in this story are purely from the author’s imagination, any similarity to real people is coincidental, and unintentional.

Copyright 2007. Jon Wayne Arnott

Descent : A fictionalized account of Drug abuse.


         I was in the middle of somewhere. It was a cold and desolate somewhere, but STILL it was somewhere. I looked behind me and there was no one, I looked ahead of me and there was no one.  I thought, Where the hell is everybody? Then I remembered, They’d all left. They’d been burnt down, burnt up, and faded all like a bad memory.
      The problem was, which kind of bad memories were they?  If they were angry memories their momentum should be used to fuel further actions in other avenues of advancement. If they were sad their energies should be used to foster greater understanding. But what if they don’t fall into these two nice neat cubby holes? What then?  I say we take a closer look. Shall we?

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                                       It was the pills.
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         Jesse had been down this road before.  No sleep. He never slept. He was usually doing something, usually finding new ways to avoid the inevitable, usually being a complete slacker. And today was no different. He was playing hooky, not a big deal really, but today would be different.
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                   “The boy’s condition is terminal. I don’t know if he’ll make it through the night even, let alone ‘til next week.”
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         Today Jesse was going to try a new drug. He’d read Alice in Wonderland, and thought it was about a drug trip. He’d been taking Ritalin since he was little. The doctor prescribed them, his mom nagged him, and he took them, but somewhere along the line he started taking more than he was supposed to, and then he began snorting the pills.
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                                       It was those goddamn pills.
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         Now what all lies between sad and angry, and is there a gray area? I don’t know. I don’t care. They’re bad memories and that’s all they are. That’s all I need to know. Anyways back to what I was going to tell you. It’d been three days since I left.  I knew something was wrong. I just could barely put a digit on it. I knew what it was, BUT I was scared.  I knew. I fucking knew. But I didn’t do anything different.
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                   “He’s twitching Doctor, Why?”
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         Jesse found a friend who had some pills that he’d never tried before. They were green and had birds on them. His ‘friend’ told him that they would be like no drug he’d ever had, it was the new shit. Jesse thought, “No big deal, I can handle anything.” The problem was he couldn’t.
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         If I hadn’t taken them, things would still be normal.
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         The guy told me three and you’ll feel good, four and you’ll be awesome, five and you’ll feel invincible, but swallow six and you may not come back. So I popped seven, just to see what would happen. He told me it was a stupid move for my first time. He said it was stupid for a second, third, fourth or any time. But I popped pills like a fat diabetic woman popping sugar candies… does that even make sense? I don’t care. You get the idea. So, as I said I downed seven. I could handle it. It was no biggie, I’d done everything.
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                   “Well, I hate to say this but it‘s random firing in his brain, he‘s dying slowly. Happens to the best of us really.”
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         Jesse had descended. One moment he was here, the next he was there. It was as though he’d made a sudden arrival at a point of no return, with no real journey as a precursor. He went forward as he always did. He became loose-ended. Everything made no sense. Nothing was right. He could hear things he’d never heard. He felt in a new way, a vacant stare blinked into his eye. He had begun to watch, cold and detached, as his mind left him. It was the beginning of an end. HE WAS THERE.
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         "Dearly be-grieved, we are gathered here today to commemorate the life of one who was all to quickly torn from our grasp," said the Preacher as the assembled friends and family mourned their loss. After a brief pause, and a look at the picture of Jesse, a green-eyed red-haired youth in the picture, he continued, "He was a bright young man. Who had raucous energy, and a fiery intellect to match it. A fine student he was, perhaps lacking conviction in his studies but never lacking in understanding of that which was taught to him. He had a penchant for trouble, some would say." A single tear slid slowly from the Preacher's eye as he said he word 'trouble'.

         Jesse had always touched those around him. He had a mysterious aura about him. Some felt better for his presence others worse, but none could deny his charisma.

         The preacher then inquired, "Does anyone have anything they would like to share, memories, regrets, anything?"

         A young woman stood as the Preacher was making his inquiry. The Preacher bade her to speak that which she would like to share. The young lady began with, "I'm Rose Freeh, a classmate of Jesse's, and I remember him from when we were just kids on the playground. He was always smiling and laughing," she trailed off there and looked down at the floor. She pulled her head back up to look at the picture of Jesse, and continued, "Until the one day when we were around twelve years old, he started acting... different. He wasn't the same, it was like he'd become another person. I pulled away from him then, and now looking back I wish I hadn't. I feel as though I could have made some kind of difference, kept him away from the drugs, done something anyways. I regret the decision to pull away. I'm sorry Jesse."

         Rose sat down, and the Preacher then inquired again if anyone had any memories of Jesse. This time a young man stood up, another classmate of Jesse, one James Grey.

         "I knew what he was doing. I knew when he started. He told me when he stated to use, and now I'm so angry at myself now for not trying to get him help. I feel like I failed as a friend. I'm sorry Mr. and Mrs. Greene, I should have told you, but most of all, I'm sorry Jesse." James sat after sharing, and the assemblage turned to the parents.

         Jesse's father stood and as he began to speak tears welled up in his eyes, "I always knew something was wrong. I couldn't figure it out then, but it seems so clearly obvious now. I should have known. I should have known. Why Jesse? Why did you do it? I can never know now what you would be like when you turned into an adult. I can only remember you now, and think of my failings as a parent." As he finished Jesse's father collapsed into the pew behind him, and shook with impotent rage aimed at himself and also with the inextricable sadness that comes with losing a child.