Chapter One from "Feenin"
Mistress of IT
by Nane Quartay
She stood, deliriously trembling, at the entrance to the park. The young girl searched frantically, her addiction screamed out for satisfaction and her flesh moved in chronic surrender. Long gone were the days when drug use was recreational fun, a fad. Times were now hard-core bouts of having and not having, getting and getting got or, even worse, acts that were once theatric drama were now hellish scenes in which she starred. Control of her life had been violently wrested from her and abused by a blizzard of white powder that enslaved her mind and spirit. Yet she loved her master. Her deeds were the proof. So she searched, following a voice only she could hear. The call of yearning.
She had to feed 'It'. 'It' was her habit. A greedy, insatiable monster who stomped across the landscape of her soul. 'It' talked to her often. 'It' knew where the drugs were and was well versed in all the ingenious ways in which to procure the precious substance.
The park loomed before her, threatening in the darkness of the late hour, sinister in its rolling, grassy slopes. An alarm went off somewhere in her mind, warning of danger, but that was drowned out by the thunder of 'It'.
"Go," 'It' said and she obediently shuffled down the man-made pathway as 'It' grew heavy with urgency. The sights of the park held no interest to her, they were a mere blur, as she set about her mission. She passed the small, outdoor amphitheater with hillside seating and the area known as 'The Shade', where tall trees stood with their leaves clasped together overhead, casting cool, comforting refuge during the burning midday hours. The park was deserted, nary a soul was in sight but 'It' guided her so she blindly obeyed. A monument saluting the Buffalo Soldiers was around the bend, hidden from her side of the path by the sloping land. The statue was huge. One soldier stood tall, rifle at the ready while another kneeled to help a fallen comrade. This part of history meant nothing to her, 'It' only had eyes for the three men who leaned against the tall, stone wall that was encrypted with the story of the All-Black regiment known as the Buffalo Soldiers.
"Look!" 'It' commanded as she rounded the curved pathway. She saw a light-skinned man with a big nose put a crack pipe to his lips. Reflexively she inhaled with him and 'It' pinpricked her brain with a glimpse of false euphoria. She put on her best sexy-crack smile and floated over to where the men stood between the soldiers and the wall. The big-nosed smoker started rapping:
"Take two and pass,
One of the other men, a dark-skinned man, had the pipe. He took two hits and passed the pipe when he spotted the girl approaching.
"H-h-hold up! Waitaminute!" he stuttered, looking the girl over. He recognized the type. "W-w-we got a trick baby, here. Y-y-you trickin' baby girl? Huh?" The big-nosed man broke out with another rhyme:
"All men are created equal.
"Ask!" 'It' ordered.
"Let me get a hit?" she asked.
"Y-y-you t-t-trippin'" the man replied.
"Give me some?" she asked seductively.
"Yeah. You out here trickin'" he said.
"Well," the big nose spoke up, "I don't need no pussy, so get on trick! I don't need no pussy."
"That's cause you smokin' that s-s-shit!" the dark man said. "You don't need no orgasm cause in your brain you already d-d-done got off. Skeeted ever whichaway!" He turned back to the girl. 'It' was agitating her, the hunger in her eyes was deepening, even her skin cried for cocaine.
The dark man pulled a pebble sized rock of crack-cocaine out of his pocket. 'It's' heart skipped a beat.
"You want some?" the dark man asked. She nodded her assent, mute with 'It'.
"I give you some," he continued, "if you take all your clothes off."
"No!" she shouted... without consulting with 'It'.
"What?" 'It' thundered.
"No! No! Hell no!" she sang. 'It' got angry. 'It' could get real nasty when provoked.
"Let me show you something," 'It' said and began flashing scenes across her mind. Scenes from another time, another life. She was on her knees in the back of an old abandoned car with three teenage boys. She'd spit them out the window. Then a German Shepherd hunched over her, the dog's paws on her back, its hot breath on her neck. A group of men stood around watching, drinking beer and laughing at the girl who would do anything to get high.
"You will," 'It' said and suddenly she felt the call of cocaine, pulling at her insides.
"We outside," she said to the man, fighting 'It'.
"Ain't nobody out here but us," the man and 'It' replied in unison. Slowly she looked around the park. In the the thick stillness, she felt eyes everywhere. But there were no people, not a one.
"Where at?" she asked.
"Here," the dark man replied. He leaned back against the stone wall with a knowing look.
"Go ahead," 'It' said. "Do it. Now!" A blinding high pushed through her flesh, beamed directly into her brain and sent her mind on a spinning, flashing plateau that was miles above the cosmic reach of common thought, a teasing glimpse that quickly dissipated. She sobbed aloud as, with trembling fingers, she peeled off her dirty, ripped shirt, exposing the holey, rusty bra underneath.
"Yeah!" 'It' shouted. The three men smoked as they watched, eyeing her small pointy breasts as she removed her bra.
"The rest," said the dark man, wisps of smoke escaping from his lips. She stepped out of her pants and stood naked before them. She extended her arm, palm outward, seeking payment.
"Naw!" the dark man exclaimed. "Naw! You got to do more that that, baby!"
"You said naked," she cried.
"I know what I said!" he barked. "But let me see you crawl. Crawl to me. On your hands and knees. But sexy though. Like on T.V." he finished. 'It' brought her to her knees, she was openly crying now, and she began to crawl.
"Be sexy!" 'It' ordered. The girl stopped in her tracks. "I ain't," she said with tears rolling down her cheeks.
"You are!" 'It' warned. Her sobs were alarming as she fought 'It'. Cries of pain racked her body and she shook with the effort of trying to control herself. To lift herself from her knees, get up, get dressed and escape. She was fed up. 'It' surged to life in response, shocking her with the overpowering need for crack, but she had reached the point of emotional saturation. She collapsed in a heap, mourning her searing desires and the pain 'It' had wrought. The agony of living the white lie.
"She buggin' out," said the big nose man.
"Yeah," said the dark man with a mischievous grin. "Lets take her clothes." The three men gathered up her clothes and ran, laughing with chemical glee, leaving her naked and alone in the park.
Tokus was taking the shortcut to Heath Street when he spotted the naked woman, shivering in the shadows of the old abandoned bridge that passed over the park. She huddled in tears, another victim of the rock laid bare by the addiction to the altered state of mind. Her pain, her shame was something that no longer touched Tokus. He had seen her condition many times, in many guises, but he attributed their plight as a case of the weak-minded. Some people just have addictive personalities, he reasoned .
Life had forced Tokus into a lifestyle that suited his needs but not his ideals. He hated the effect of drugs on people and the victims beyond the addicts. But drugs were a crutch that people sought with a need, heedless of its impending, destructive effects. No matter, Tokus thought, for he had dreams. Sadly, he looked at the naked girl, turned and walked away, headed back to his favorite street corner. The best drug spot in the city. He fingered the plastic-wrapped pieces of crack in his pocket and mentally prepared himself for a night of selling drugs in a world where dreams die first.