Thinking back again, she remembered that the people in the house had told the girls there was no such thing as an overdose of acid, or bad trips. She'll argue that issue, to this day, cuz she is sure she overdosed that first night in Hollywood. The last thing she remembered was lying on her bed, that ran the same direction as the traffic ran down stairs, just outside her windows, one story down. If a car came from the direction of the head of the bed, she felt it, as if the car ran inside her, from her head to her toes. And if the car came from the direction of the foot of the bed, her body vibrated from her toes to her head. She lay there, just feeling the battle of the traffic, within the very center of her, and then she was lost. For hours. But she reflected that she actually would rather be lost sometimes than be her self. She does vaguely remember seeing an angel that night, with long blond hair, and golden light glowing all around her. She later found out that Bobbi had come into to visit with her, and the "angel" was Bobbi, and the golden light around her was just the light in the hallway, filling the doorway behind Bobbi! It had been a beautiful and hopeful vision though. Her boyfriend told her later that she had cried some and was telling him that she wanted Marilyn there. Marilyn had been the closest thing she had ever had to a best friend when she was bout 8 years old, up until she was 14. Since they moved around so much, and since she did not really know how to be a friend herself back then, that was not really saying much. But according to Craig, she really wanted to talk to "Mare," that night, when she was tripping harder than she ever had, or ever would again. She never had another trip like that one, ever again. Nor did she ever want to trip like that again! It went against her fears of losing control. But it did not stop her from trying things. She was always swallowing, snorting or smoking something, if someone told her it was going to make her feel good. She liked the stuff that made her numb, most of all. But she had some allergy problems and that always led to tossing her cookies. Even having fun had it's price tag. Now she wonders how she lived through some of the things she went through. Not just the stuff she used, but the road she traveled... Like the time she was thumbing to Culver City and some guy picked her up on his motorcycle. He told her that he would take her all the way home, but first, he had to stop at his place for something. It was one of the few times her thumbing instincts failed her. She said "Okay." They stopped at his pad. He told her he had some wine, but she explained she hated wine cuz she had overdosed on Red Mountain once and she had an aversion to it now. She also told him she really just had to get back to her pad. He was persistent, and made her a glass of wine mixed with lemonaide. She still hated it, and wouldn't drink it. When he couldn't get her drunk, he just went for broke, and was on her, pawing at her. She kept telling him no, and he was saying yes, and would not let her up from the sofa. She tried reasoning with him, and got no where. She plead with him, and he acted as if he did not hear her. She tried crying, but it did not even slow him down. Finally she told him, "You know, here I am trying to be open-minded and I trusted you, and now you are being such jerk. People like you, make people like me, call you (And she screamed out the n-word at him, and the one and only time in her life)!" The guy went nuts! He jumped off of her, and he yelled at her, he would kill her if she called him a nigger again, or now, if was any other black man, like he was doing her some favor by not ending her life right then and there. She told him that was fine by her, that if he wanted to kill her, she'd go and get him a knife from the kitchen and let him do it, cuz she would rather get cut and die, than get raped again! She was having bad flash backs to her rape of just two years before this! They stood there, yelling at each other, and she was crying... And suddenly, lying through her teeth, and without knowing why she was saying it, she told him she had to throw up! He grabbed her by the hand, dragged her into the bathroom, stood her if front of the commode and told her go ahead! Later in life, she was sure it was God, himself, that put words in her mouth and the clarity that followed next. She looked at the commode, stomach tight, but no where near tossing her cookies up, still, feeling terrified. She suddenly looked to her right, at the window next to the toilet, and back at the man who had her cornered in the bathroom. She was scared, and then she got angry, ansd suddenly she felt as big as he looked to her. Fear was leaving her tiny body. She looked at the window again, and he got nervous and pulled the shade down. "Perfect!" she thought, and her right arm shot straight out, and through the glass, somewhat protected by the shade he had just pulled down. "Idiot," she thought! She felt herself puff up, and she was the one who suddenly got crazy and dangerous. She yelled at him, "You better let me out of here by the time I count three, or I'm gonna break out every freaking window in this place, then I'm gonna scream "fire" at the top of my lungs and someone is gonna hear me! And now, I'm gonna count!" And she started to count! He begged her to stop, to just cool down. He begged her to let him look at the cuts on her arm and put some band-aids on it. He was apologizing. And now he was begging her! She had scared him! The tables were turned. And it felt good! Later on in life, when she told people about it, said she could really relate to the part of the Bible, when King David pretends to go crazy and lives in the woods alone, until he is ready to come back full force. Crazy, crazy like ole King David, she was that day! Crazy enough to scare her enemy away from her, and she made her escape. Crazy enough to survive! That was one of the most empowering events of her life and she was learning that she could say no, and win. But what if he had let her go to the kitchen that day, and let her get the knife, and... What if he had been more like Dahmer, instead of the chicken-shit man who tried to rape a tiny, 17 year old girl, that no-one protected, or cared enough about, to keep safe? Well, then that would have been the end of her story. That's for sure. But she got away. And she never fell for the line, I gotta stop by my place first, ever again! At least she learned from her lessons. And her instincts got better, every time she survived. Try to get me drunk and rape me!? Huh! Well, crazy like ole King David sure surprised that guy! And it surprised her too! Not till later in life, when she started giving God His dues in her life, did she know that day, He was with her every step of the way! |
Author Bio:
Deborah Coss
Deborah Coss, has been writting since 8 years old, getting published off and on since 15, and finally realized her child hood dream, of carrying press credentials, working for womanmotorist.com. A diverse writer, publishnig several business type sites, she now publishes her own site, 1kindthing.com, creates some fine arts, and loves photography, commenting she is a social portraiture photographer and prefers the medium of black and white. In art, she has a very constructionist attitude, and enjoys making masks, and other 3 dimensional objects. On a personal side, she survived an extremly violent childhood, some serious trauma, including being crushed by a car at age 3 and half. Thus, her site 1kindthing.com, tells of overcoming hardships, in her many styles of writing. She is a baby boomer, raised in Southern California, bi-lingual in Spanish, descened from French, German, English and American Indian bloodlines. Coss finds words fun, and communication an art.
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