Interfectis
2008-12-30, 12:07
I began seeing a girl when I was 15; she was adopted by rich people who treated her like dog shit. She introduced me to heroin, and we used frequently together.
She had an argument with her "family" one day and ran away to my house, where she stayed for a few days. One night we were completely doped out, and cops knocked on my front door. They found her through a tip from her parents or one of her friends. They took her away, and were extremely upset at my parents who had no idea about the situation. Her parents’ drug tested her, and found what they were looking for.
The next morning, I get a call from her saying she only has a minute to talk and that they are taking her to a rehab/boarding school a few states over in Indiana. I didn't hear from her for another year after that, until she knocked on my front door. She had escaped the place, and came back for me. She stayed the night, and I went to work the next morning. By the time I got back, my parents had told me the police came again and found her there.
I didn't hear from her for another year until I got a phone call, she said she had escaped again and she couldn't tell me where she was going or anything except that she loved me, and that she would find me when she turned 18.
I was working one day and she came in crying and kissed me in front of everyone I worked with, saying she asked all around and that she went to my old house to try and find me but found I didn't stay there anymore. We started seeing each other again, and it was some of the best times of my life. She explained to me she had escaped to New York and was working under the table as a waitress. Slowly more and more got out as I questioned her. She admitted to prostituting herself, and that it was her only way to survive. I told her to leave and never talk to me again, because I would never overlook it.
I didn't hear from her for another year, until I got a phone call from her and she is crying and tells me to come see her and that it's very important. I go to her house, where she lived with some roommates. She poured us drinks, and we caught up. I asked her what had been wrong when she called me on the phone, and she looked sadder than anyone I have ever seen. She told me that I was the only person she could ever love, and that now her hopes of one day staying in my life were completely gone. I asked her why, and she explained how she started seeing this guy, a drifter type, and she told me that he up and left and moved away on her a few weeks back. She went on to further explain how she got tested after that, and the doctors found her to be HIV positive. I didn't know what to say except that I was sorry that had happened to her, and walked out of the door. I went home, and felt more dead inside than I ever have. I moved out of the area and tried to find her before I did, but she was nowhere to be found. I never said goodbye, and I'll never know what happened to her.
Looking back, I wonder if I had told her that I understood and that I could look past what she had to do to survive, if she would have been alright and alive, and if I wouldn't feel so lost.
She had an argument with her "family" one day and ran away to my house, where she stayed for a few days. One night we were completely doped out, and cops knocked on my front door. They found her through a tip from her parents or one of her friends. They took her away, and were extremely upset at my parents who had no idea about the situation. Her parents’ drug tested her, and found what they were looking for.
The next morning, I get a call from her saying she only has a minute to talk and that they are taking her to a rehab/boarding school a few states over in Indiana. I didn't hear from her for another year after that, until she knocked on my front door. She had escaped the place, and came back for me. She stayed the night, and I went to work the next morning. By the time I got back, my parents had told me the police came again and found her there.
I didn't hear from her for another year until I got a phone call, she said she had escaped again and she couldn't tell me where she was going or anything except that she loved me, and that she would find me when she turned 18.
I was working one day and she came in crying and kissed me in front of everyone I worked with, saying she asked all around and that she went to my old house to try and find me but found I didn't stay there anymore. We started seeing each other again, and it was some of the best times of my life. She explained to me she had escaped to New York and was working under the table as a waitress. Slowly more and more got out as I questioned her. She admitted to prostituting herself, and that it was her only way to survive. I told her to leave and never talk to me again, because I would never overlook it.
I didn't hear from her for another year, until I got a phone call from her and she is crying and tells me to come see her and that it's very important. I go to her house, where she lived with some roommates. She poured us drinks, and we caught up. I asked her what had been wrong when she called me on the phone, and she looked sadder than anyone I have ever seen. She told me that I was the only person she could ever love, and that now her hopes of one day staying in my life were completely gone. I asked her why, and she explained how she started seeing this guy, a drifter type, and she told me that he up and left and moved away on her a few weeks back. She went on to further explain how she got tested after that, and the doctors found her to be HIV positive. I didn't know what to say except that I was sorry that had happened to her, and walked out of the door. I went home, and felt more dead inside than I ever have. I moved out of the area and tried to find her before I did, but she was nowhere to be found. I never said goodbye, and I'll never know what happened to her.
Looking back, I wonder if I had told her that I understood and that I could look past what she had to do to survive, if she would have been alright and alive, and if I wouldn't feel so lost.