November 2007

"One, two, three," I count as I sit, legs cris crossed under the big willow tree in front of my aunts house. I count quickly to thirty five, as my cousins hide all around the street.
Here is a little background on my step fathers families side of the family, I have about 35 immediate cousins. All us cousins range from 32-8 years old. So the teenagers, which is probably about 15 of us play hide and go seek outside on thanksgiving. We get released from the table once we get tired of listening to all the aunts and uncles tell us about how they didn't have this much to eat when they were kids.

I unfold my legs, and slowly get up from the ground. I am looking for my older brother. He is 20 but still can't give up his ego for the game. I tiptoe slowly around the bush that separates my aunts front yard to her neighbor to her lefts. Two houses down I see my brothers white Adidas shoes, under a big red truck. I smirk as I make my way past the first house to the second one that separates me from destiny. I crouch down as if I am invisible and begin to proceed to my prey.


"DESTINY IS MINE!" i ferociously yell, as i pull off my brothers shoe and hold it up into the air. I see my cousin pull out from under the truck. Shocked, I look over at the large almost naked, tree. Low and behold, there stands my brother with one hand leaning on the tree, and the other holds his other shoe. He yells "You'll never get me Rachel." then laughs. My eyes increase in size. I look under the truck and it is my cousin Jack. "That was a set up, that isn't fair. That is cheating!" I yell at him. He just laughs again, "I'm bending the rules, without breaking them." he yells, "JACK'S IT". All the cousins come out from their hiding places and proceed to the middle of the street in a line.
Jack now sits in front of the willow tree, hands over both eyes. He starts to count "One, two, seven." We all look at each other and laugh then run. I run way down the street as fast as i can. I decide to hide out of the boundaries like the rebel I am known to be. I get a text message from a friend but I close it so my phone will not make any noises. I open my phone, and go through my contacts. "Trump?" I whisper out loud. I am puzzled. I know I do not have Donald Trumps phone number. I decide to call to see who it is. After the second ring I remember who it is. "Hello?" i hear a mans voice on the other line. I am choked up. I do not say anything. "Rachel?" he says. "Uh hey..." I say. I am scared out of my mind. It has been more then about four months since I have talked to him. He has ignored my phone calls around two months ago, so i stopped calling ever since. But now, somehow he answers. I take advantage of it. "I was just thinking about you, Taylor. How are you." I whisper. "I could be better. Why are we whispering?" he whispers, then laughs. I feel like a complete idiot.

This is the Taylor that I use to know, and love. "How are you doing, Rachel?" I'm shocked that he is having a conversation with me. I completely forget that he even asked me a question. I am so scatter brained. "Why could you be better?" Are the words that come out of my mouth, that to me make no sense. "I got sent to Colorado. I arrived here yesterday." My heart is beating. I do not say anything. "Ya there?" he says. "Oh yeah, yeah, I am." he must realize that I am in complete shock that he is on the phone with me, and tries to keep the conversation going. Nothing between us has ever been awkward, but I feel so uncomfortable. I have questions I want to be answered, but I can not say them. Questions that should be answered, but I do not want to hear the response.
"Why did you get sent out to Colorado?"
"Oh, I just got sent here to live with my dad for a while."
Yet again, I do not know what to say.
"I've missed talking to you, lets keep in touch now. Is that okay?"
Shocked and immediately I say "Oh of course, we need to catchup. I miss you"
I sit down on the concrete feeling like an idiot for telling him that i miss him.
"I miss you too Rachel. I'm sorry it has been so long, A lot of things have been going on" He laughs. "I was just so busy, ya know?"
I nod my head, but of course he can not hear that, "Oh yeah I hear ya." I whisper. I feel like a complete idiot. "Hey, I have to go, I have to go spend some time with my pops. Call me sometime soon, yeah?" he says.
"Yeah, very soon. It was great talking to you." I say as I finally calm myself down.
We get off the phone seconds later. I collapse to the ground. I feel so much better. It feels like there has been weight lifted off my shoulders that I never knew was there. He is okay, and talking to me, all at once. Miracle? I think so.


How long is soon? I ask myself.
Laying in some neighbors driveway, hidden by a couple bushes. I lay there with my eyes closed, and breathing heavily. I open my eyes. I have a foot on my stomach. "RACHEL'S IT. He looks down at me "AGAIN!"

I roll my eyes and run to the stupid willow tree.

arrested november 2008

He called me on the phone. It was about eight o'clock at night, and I have not heard from him since around 12. I have been sitting on my couch, staring at my phone for hours now. He finally calls me and I can vividly see what he has done, by what he is saying.
"I got arrested babe, I'm sorry."
"SORRY?!" I yell.
I tone my voice down "What happen?"
"I owed some of my homeboys money from before I moved to Colorado, so we walked off campus and one of our guys picked us up and took us to Safeway."
I do not say anything. He sighs. "Rachel... Please hear me out."
"I can hear you just fine." I say firmly.

I can tell he is frustrated. "We walked into Safeway. We walked down all the aisles looking for any lady with a purse."
I am silent, waiting for him to continue. "I called -and says a name I do not remember- and he pulled up in front of Safeway. I gave my homeboys "the sign" and we walked down an aisle where a lady was trying to get something off the top shelf." he takes a breath. "Ya there Rachel?" he says. " I can hear you loud and clear, Taylor."

"Okay, so Alex tells the lady that he can get it for her, and he looks over at us, and we grab her purse out of the cart, and my boys huddle around me. We go out the IN door and run into the car and drive off. A whole bunch of people run out to get the license plate. To bad it was a stolen car, but we decided to stick out heads out the windows and yell out random letters and numbers so they would get confused."
I am shocked. He has been going down hill since he was selling E, but I do not say anything.
"I'm sorry Rachel, I just needed the money to pay it off, and I do not have like any money right now, and of course I am not going to ask my parents for 1000 dollars-" I stop him. "One THOUSAND dollars?"
"Yeah... Rach. You do not understand the drug world. You could be with your homeboys, but if you do not pay them back, they are your enemies just like that."
I feel sick to my stomach.
He tells me more. "We made our way safely to a guys house, and empty the purse." Then we hear sirens. All my homeboys ran but three of us. The cops got us in hand cuffs and we were sent down town."
"I can not believe you did this Taylor."
"Rachel, you do not understand, I need the money or these guys could do something really bad. And the reason why I did not call you was because if they saw I had a girlfriend they would threaten to get you."
I feel sick, like I am about to throw up.
"Taylor..."
"Rachel, I did something stupid. It has nothing to do with you though."
"STOP right there Taylor" I yell. " It DOES NOT affect me, or have anything to do with me? Are you kidding right now. Taylor I do not think you understand that your past with the drug world is still apart of your life RIGHT NOW!"
"No Rachel, you are a huge part of my life." I stop him. "Taylor, exactly. I feel like since you have that drug world and it is still there even though you are sober. It affects me more then you'll ever know."
He does not say anything.
"I'm sorry for blowing up. I know you have had a rough day, but you can not keep doing stuff like this, you are going to get hurt." I pause. "Taylor, you are going down hill."


I start to cry.

Adrenaline 2

I move everyone out of my way. Somehow, no one punches me in the face. I was slithering through people like a snake, I felt invisible even though I knew I was attraction to myself although it was not my intention. I was shoving people left and right trying to find my brother. I hear from somewhere in the house. I hear a voice I recognize, and this does not turn my attention immediately. I now am concentrated on trying to find him. I'm looking around. I can not tell one female from another. Each one has a wanna be playmate, on just about every guys lap.

I see Niko, one of my brother's life long friends. I have known him every since my step dad and mother got married in 1994. I grab his bisept, which is the size of my head. He is like twice my size, but I feel as though if he does not tell me what I want to hear I will destroy him. "Well look here, it is baby Timmy Morgan," he says in a baby voice. I stare at him. "Where.... is.... my..... brother." I look at him, heated. He throws me over his shoulders. I feel sick to my stomach already, but now my stomach is being smooched by his muscular shoulder. Great massage huh?

Nico is a giant. He is a huge Portugese man. He has olive color skin, big green eyes and light brown hair. He is a giant.  When I use to "live" at my brother house, at least once a week he would sleep on the other couch accross from me and another one of my brothers friend. All of my brothers friends, weather they know me well or not, think of me as a little sister. It is convienant in a way, but I hate being called a baby, becuase I'm not little, they are all just over 6 feet tall.

Anyways. He puts me down slowly. I am probably bright red because of how heated I am, and because all the blood in my body probably ran to my head and decided to chill there for a long time. He looks at me. "You need to wait here." I stare him down, "No". He opens a door right down the hall from where we were at. I am just right behind him. He whispers "Is he okay?" I crawl between his legs. My brother is on a bed. He begins caughing. Blood is rushing out of his nose. He looks dead. I begin crying. Nico grabs and puts me  in the hall, and shuts and locks the door.

I go to the kitchen and grab one of the red plastic party cups, and run back to the room. I put the cup to the door, and put my ear to the bottom of the cup. Thank god my brothers are in boy scouts. "Some guy did not give him coke... lets just say that." Tyler says.

 My brother LOVES coke. He does not like heroine. With coke, people take as much as they "believe" they can handle. People take tons of lines of coke. If you take more then an inch amount of heroin, (i learned) you will more likely die or your life will be at jeopardy. Luckily my brothers idiodic friends had an adrenaline shot. This is a long, very large shot, that if someone OD's off heroin (especially) you stabb it in their heart and they will more then likely live. 

I started pounding on the door trying to get myself in. I saw a hole next to the door knob, I grabbed my bobby pin out of my hair, and stuck it into the hole. Then I heard a small click. I went to open the door, I got it open a little, then (probably) Nico slammed it shut. I tried to open it again, but he used his body as a baricade. I stood outside the door for at least 5 minutes, but it felt like 20. Nico opens the door. There I am standing there, crying. He gives me a hug and strokes my back. I can tell he is shooken up, his eyes are a little watery, I can only tell because I am looking up at him. He told me what happen. He snorted a line of heroin, but it was actually coke. My brother did not notice it looked more like salt, instead of sugar. It was a long line apparently. Nico goes and finds the guy who told him it was coke, and then he turns around and Tyler and Andrew run out before he even gets in the room to ask him who it was, and to come help him jump the kid. "His name is Nick Johnson. I follow them, trying to get them to not fight him. They get through the crowd of people a lot faster then I can. I hear a lady talking to a guy about how the police are coming, and to hide all the drugs. All of the sudden I see Nico, Andrew and Tyler coming towards me, and I duck and hide behind of other guys. They walk past the guys, apparently they were talking towards Johnson. Me and my brother friend Mike, who came out of the room and saw me, start going to get Nico, Andrew and Tyler. Of course I am not going to try and stop the fight, but Mike and his buddy, who I do not know, are going to try. 

I see the three muskateers yelling at johnson. I see Nick swing and hit Tyler in the stomach. Nico attacks him and they are both on the ground. A couple guys jump in to try and break it up. I go to grab mike, then some guy goes to hit mike but mike has be in his arms, and goes to kick him but I do first, I kick him right in the stomach and knock him out. Mike is still holding me back, and the guy gets up and thinks Mike kicked him. I kick him again and he grabs my foot and the guy punches him in the face he lets go on my foot and then falls to the ground, as do I. I do the crab walk to try and get away from them. I go to find if i see anyone else that I know, but I do not see anyone. I go back and see some lady putting ice a bag of ice on Tylers lip, I think its  his girlfriend, but I am not sure. I go up to him and tell him what is happening. He tells me to get out of here because the cops have been outside, and there is probably more coming. I squirm through the people to try and find the fight, but it has been broken up. All of my brothers friends are gone. I completely forget about my brother. I run back to the room, and there they all are.

They are lifting my brother off the bed, and then tim swings his arms around Tyler and Andrew and they are walking them back to Tylers car. They are all completely drunk. They get out of the master bed room, and open the slider which leads to the back yard. We go around the side of the house and reach the fense, I run ahead of them to open it. We all get through the gate and  there are at least 5 los gatos police officers outside. I try not to look at them, we all do. We get my brother to my car, and I tell them I am bring them back to tim's house weather they like it or not. I do not want them driving, I'd rather get in trouble then them. All the sudden a police officer walks up to us. Probably because we all look suspicious, and the guys all look beat up. 

NOT DONE.

Hurt leg?

"RACHEL, RACHEL!" I open one eye. "Where is dad" he says, wide eyed. I start to sit up and say no. I rub the sleep out of my eyes, and I watch him hobble away, then all the sudden shoot up the stairs? I do not comprehend what is going on. I decide to return to my position that I was so comfortable in before I got interrupted. My mom peeks her head in through the sliding door and says. "TIMMY?" He comes slowly, limping, down the stairs. "Where is dad?" he says pretending to look sick, or hurt. His face transformed itself, magically. His posture is slumped over. His eyes now look droopy.

I become to feel sick to my stomach. He hobbles over to my mom and repeats the question. She looks at him "Dear God, Tim. What in the world happen to you?!" He replies with a bit of a raspy voice, followed by a cough. "I fell off the roof at work, and hurt my leg." My mom turns her attention to his leg. "I just wanted some of dad's pain killers, to... you know... kill the pain." He kind of half smiles, as if he is in no pain. Which I know he is not in any.

"SURE THING!" my mom says, feeling bad for him. She runs upstairs and gives him a pill, and states the name, which I do not remember. My mom hands him a cup of water, and he downs the two little pills.

"Thanks..." he says, unsatisfied. He hobbles quickly back to his car.

"Do YOU just know what YOU did?!" I say trying not to scream, once he shuts the door. My mom laughs. "And you are laughing about it?!" I scream back. I gave him (she says a medication that I do not recall the name of), and laughs.

"... And you are still laughing?!" I sit up and start becoming livid. She laughs "Rachel, I gave him a wimpy pill, it does nothing. It allows the muscles to relax. No matter if snorted, smoked, inhaled, or ANYTHING. It will not affect his metal...self." I calm down. I lye back down and slow my breathing. "How do you know that?" I question her. "Dad told me that Tim knows his work schedule, and will come over unexpectedly and will give any excuse to get his or my drugs." I look at her puzzled, waiting for her to continue. "Sooo...."


"Sooooo..." she replies "Dad was and has been in undercover narcotics for over 20 years. IF dad says to give him that pill, OBVIOUSLY it will do nothing to alter him" She sighs because I do not look convinced. "That is why he swallowed it, Rachel! It will do nothing for his "liking" "

I begin to feel a little bit better. I know that he took some medication before my mom called him downstairs. Why did I say he was not home. It is my fault.

My mom goes back outside to prune whatever flower she randomly decided to become her new "hobby". I go upstairs, just to see what he took.


.......My medication was gone.

Aderenaline 1

I close my phone. It's three o'clock in the morning. I wipe the sleep out of both corners of my eyes. I jump out of my old green couch that I had somehow fallen asleep on. I do not even think of any consequences. I creep down the hall into the guest bed room, which is at the front of the house. With just about every step there is a squeak. I hold my hands up in the air and stand on my tip toes as if I was on a tite wire thirty feet off the ground. I finally reach the room. It is pitch black.
I tip toe over to the window and gently draw it open. It makes a loud screaching sound. I completely freeze. I decide to continue my mission. I open the screen and hop out. I landed straight on my feet, but somehow I feel pain shoot right up my right leg. I bend over in pain, trying not to whinse.

I run to my bronco 2 and put the key in the car door, and unlock it. Once inside I throw my permit on the pasangers seat, and start the car. I drive off. Oddly enough I do not know my destination. I have been there before, briefely. It was in broad day light though. I HAD the cross streets written on my hand but now they are smudged off. I reach in my empty pocket. My phone is left next to my couch. I take off at probably twice the speeding limit. I need to go to a house close to the Los Gatos hills. It usually takes my mother around fifteen to twenty minute to get there. It took me eight. Luckily I went down to the end of Leigh Ave and went down a street where cars were racing out of.
Trouble? Probably. College party? Of course. I race down the street. It looks pretty firmiliar, I guess. My head feels like it is spinning. Not to far down the street I see four or five life size barbie dolls throwing up in the bushes. I pull a little down the street, passed the house. I get this aderenaline rush. I am angry. Livid to the extreme. I push the stupid button below the stearing wheel to get my keys out of the egnition.

I storm into the house as if I lived there.

Shelly Joseph Balius

He told us he was an FBI agent. How could he make thousands in just a week working for the FBI? Why didn't she ask questions about it? He was an intimidating man. He stood at around five foot ten. He had deep down eyes. He was Greek and very attractive, so she says. He could have gone to the Olympics for his amazing talent, of playing tennis. Why didn't he?



He would be gone at nights. Getting phone calls at random times of the night. FBI right? Possibly. He would come home and she'd notice his wallet would grow in size by each random nightly outing "on the streets" She was obviously not smart. Maybe she was just desperate, with a kid on the way, for a partner at the age of 34.



She is smart, but very gullible. He'd scream and yell at her. He said he would kill her if she left. She stayed with him for another two years, going though abuse, and other harm that caused her physicky to get "tweaked." He would shake at night and cough in the bathroom. Why? He stated that it was from had anxiety medication and ontop of smoking; it did not make his lungs any better. She believed it how?

He sold drugs. He grew shrumes in my closet. He was a manipulative man. She did not leave? How, and Why not? He was one of the main men who imported drugs from Columbia. This is all I know.

I looked him up and this is what I found:

"Shooting leaves teen dead, another critical Santa Rosa A 16-year-old boy was killed and his younger brother critically wounded in an apparent gang-related shooting incident Sunday night, police said. He said the brothers, ages 16 and 14, had been walking in the area when they were accosted by a group of eight to 10 people who demanded to know which gang the boys were affiliated with."

"Moments later, the victims were fired upon by several suspects in the group, Young said. The brothers were taken to Santa Rosa Memorial Hospital, where the older boy was pronounced dead shortly before 5 a.m. Monday. The 14-year-old was in stable condition."

"Gold investment scam victims being sought Oakland The Internal Revenue Service and the U.S. attorney said Monday that they were looking for victims of a gold investment fraud scheme that bilked investors out of nearly $500,000 over five years."

(which he paid off, himself)

U.S. Attorney Michael Yamaguchi said 42-year-old Shelly Joseph Balius of Las Vegas had been indicted by a federal grand jury in Oakland May 22 on charges including interstate transportation of stolen funds, wire fraud and mail fraud.

Balius was arrested last Tuesday by the IRS criminal investigation division. He will be prosecuted in U.S. District Court in Oakland and could be sentenced to nearly three years in state prison if convicted. (which he paid people off, but still went to jail, but had no funds. He stayed in prison for six months)

Man pleads guilty to murder.

Santa Cruz A 42-year-old restaurateur from Aptos pleaded guilty to involuntary manslaughter Monday in the February 1999 shooting of a Los Gatos officer."

My father liked to kill people if he did not get what he wanted. He threatened to kill both my mother and I. Why? He was always on drugs. He always wanted drugs. In the night he'd go out and deal. His drug name was well known. I have six restraining orders on men that I do not even know, besides my biological father.

My step father WAS A COP IN 1999 IN LOS GATOS. Coincidence? He did not have my mother? So he tried to kill "an unknown named man?" In a town he did not live by. Coincidence?

Shelly Joseph Balius. Still alive? Stay in South Tahoe/Nevada

I know your address, or what was your address

and you probably know/knew mine.

Congrats.

brother to sister

I would miss not having him in my life.

I would miss his funny phone calls

and his humor, the stories,

our talks, our walks,

watching movies with him,

dinners together and the transcendent

feeling between us that is LOVE.

I would miss all of it. I miss it now.

And there is sinks in: I don't have it now.

I have not had it whenever he has been on drugs.

He is absent, only his shell remains.

I have been terrified to lose him,

but i have lost him.

Today, at least, he is lost.

I have been terrorized by fear,

that he would die.

If he did it would leave,

a permanent crack in my soul.

I would never fully recover.

But I also know that if he were to die,

or if he stays high,

i would live on- with that crack.

I would grieve.

I would grieve, forever.

.

Hero to Zero, just like that

I have felt very uncomfortable lately. I am terrified, to say the least. My mind is spinning. I have so many thoughts swimming around aimlessly in my brain, yet still, I can not get one word out. All I can process is this crazy illusion, that is now my reality. I know I can handle it, but really I should not have to. It is not my battle. I found out that someone I care for dearly, My Hero, is doing drugs.His bong collection is increasing, and so is his addiction to Coke and Meth. My biological father dealed drugs from Columbia, and consumed every drug, in every way possible.


My hero, I never thought would have to experience that path that he unknowingly going down. He might know it. I know he is in complete denial.The average time span of a tweaker is about three years give or take. My brother could technically die at any time now. He could realize that at this very moment, but it will already to late. He can't do anything to return to the health that he was at, before he used drugs as a crutch.I have tried to express my concerns to him, but i get shut down from the start. He has become violent both to himself, and others. I do not notice the real him anymore. I can not help him. It is not my battle.


So no matter how many times I could preach to him my experiences with the topic of drugs, and knowing how much it affects people just as much as himself, he refuses to listen.He will hit rock bottom, but it will be too late. He can try and change this but this habit has already changed him. There is no going back at this point. He is to old, and to hooked. He will be unwilling to go back to his old. There is no going back for him. He doesn't remember how real happiness felt like.He'll tweak. I'll cry.Sunday (9/28) i saw him chop up my step dads medication with his credit card, and inhale it into his nostrils using a tube he made out of dollar bills. This is overwhelming.


He is like a puzzle, and I can not see the box cover. I am trying to put all the pieces back together, yet i still can not see the picture. There are so many pieces that are missing. I am unknowing. I am not optimistic anymore at this point. My hero does drugs, and is ruining his life. He has changed completely, and I am invisible to him. I am hopeful, yet helpless. No matter what, it will not affect me into going down the path he has made for himself. Thank god I do not follow in his foot steps anymore, like I did when i was little.


I use to listen to the same music as him, tried on his smelly clothes that would not fit, and I even tried to impersonate him with his lingo. Now, this is all different. Now i have to make a path for myself, and myself only. Without following in his footsteps for guidance. For the first time I might be the leader for him, but I know he will not follow. He is unwilling to admit his path is leading to the destruction of himselfHis language is foreign to me. I do not speak his lingo anymore. I am invisible to him, hopeful, yet helpless. This is not my battle.





My hero is slowly on his way to permanently destroying his life and he is slowly leaving a permanent crack in my soul.




.

Eye

My name is Rachel Morgan.

I have an illness.

I have an eighteen pound cat, named Talon.

He is declawed.

I have an illness.

I have no blood related siblings.

I have an illness.

I am five foot five.

I have an illness.

I could live off lasagna.

I have an illness.

I have had three names,

Rachel Charlene Balius,

Rachel Charlene Long,

and Rachel Charlene Morgan.

I have an illness.

I love coloring books

I have an illness.

I was born February 3, 1992

I have an illness.

My nick name is Captain.

I have an illness.

I am half Greek.

I have an illness.

I am restricted to many things because.

I have an illness.

I have brown hair and blue grey eyes.

I have an illness.

I refuse to do drugs, or any mind altering substances

I have an illness

I am to afraid to get my ears pierced.

I have an illness.

I do not get affected by peer pressure.

I have an illness.

I am afraid of mushrooms.

I have an illness.

I mostly wear sweats, everyday.

I have an illness.

I put on fuzzy slipper socks right when I get home.

I have an illness.

I believe that women should know.

that they do not have to show off their

boobs or butt for guys to figure

out their personality.

I have an illness.

My favorite movie is Georgia Rule.

I have an illness.

All I read about is statistics about drugs.

I have an illness.

My favorite singer is Elton John.

I have an illness.

My favorite pizza topping is cheese.

I have an illness.

I change my nail polish color,

at least three times a week.

I have an illness.

I take six pills a day, and a patch.

I have an illness.

I can not work out for more

then a couple hours a week.

I have an illness.

My favorite snack is Cheese Its.

I have an illness.

I have a hero, his name is Timothy Patrick Morgan.

I have an illness.

My favorite color is blue.

I have an illness.

I can not have much caffeine,

sugar, Aleve, anything that is Vick's,

Sudafed, or energy drinks and more.

I have an illness.

If I was a cartoon character

I would be buzz light year.

I have an illness.

I miss Richard Raymond Sanchez

more then I can express.

I have an illness.

I love zucchini with Parmesan cheese.

I have an illness.

I get light headed easily,

and sometimes I feel like I can not stand up.

I have an illness.

My ambition is to keep love ones sober.

I have an illness.

My fear is my love ones relapsing.

Every other sentence my step father says to me is, I have an illness.

5 oh for

I sit in a brown wooden chair, grading papers in Mrs Ridder's advanced English class. My grey blanket keeps my body warm, but somehow I feel frostbitten. I wait for a piece of paper. A PIECE OF PAPER that will order me to take myself to a location on campus. I become tense. Mother and Step father in the same room? "How do you keep a wave upon the sand?"
The door flies open and a girl walks in and walks directly towards Mrs Ritter, who is teaching about a short story about the Puritans. In slow motion I watch this adolescent give Mrs. Ritter my trip to exile. The young girl walks out of the class room. Suddenly, I think my bladder is going to empty itself. I feel cold, inside and out, even though I am wearing this grey fleece blanket.
Mrs. Ritter looks over at me, and nods her head. I slowly walk over to her, and grab the piece of paper. I stop to read it. I take a deep breath and proceed out the door. I start walking to the front of the school, terrified. I finally got to the room that the paper longed for me to enter. I open the door. No one was inside. I look around, confused. I slowly shut the door, and turn around.
I walk into the office. Low and behold is my step father, but where is my mother. I storm out of the office doors, and he immediately walks after me. He was talking to me, but I am not registering. He never talks to me. Why is he putting on a front. I headed for the room, with my step dad trailing behind me. I'm glad he has a bum leg. He is basically like a uni-cycle, and I am a pink race car. I can get anywhere faster then he can. Somehow he catches up. I open the door, and he kisses the back of my head. This has never happen before. This will go down in history. I open the door. There are five desks formed in the shape of a hexagon.
I enter one of my two favorite class rooms, but it feel like I have entered hell. I immediately sit down. Of course my step dad, with his fake front sits down next to me, and sparks up a conversation. I keep my head down.
"Keep your head up, Rachel" he says, nicely for a change. I actually put my head up, surprised by the tone he used. I press index and pointer fingers just above my eyebrows, scrunching up my forehead, and I had both my thumbs just under my chin. Mr. Suligan walks out of his office, surprised we were on time. Where was the 504 lady? I think in my head. I sit down and tap my fingers on the desk.
It gets totally awkward. My dad pulls out a note pad that he uses for work, to write notes on this "amazing" occasion. I roll my eyes. My dad starts talking about the days he was working in narcotics, with his long hair and selling dope on the streets. Blah blah blah, He thinks he is a god or something. He is bragging about how he stayed alive. "I've been shot at so many times. I have kicked down so many doors with my own feet." he says. I bring up about how he shot himself in the finger. He glances at me with a smile that I can tell says "later you will get a HUGE consequence." What will he do. Me oh my.
Finally this.... not so skinny lady with died blond hair walks in with a smile. I think to myself "Great a sixty year old Shirley Temple, wonderful." She sits down. Mr Suligan looks at the other empty desk, puzzled. "She is sick." my step father quickly says. This is a lie, but I keep my pie hole shut. Mother and wonderful step father can not handle each others presence. This plus sized barbie doll starts asking me questions about my condition. I have a lot of pride. I do not like to talk about my conditions, especially not in front of someone I truly despise. I do not know this women, I feel somewhat offended. I answer all her questions. My dad has a hole sheet of notes.
The meeting has finally ended. I can finally take a breath. My step dad gets in the car. I stand outside his car, and he hands me the list of notes he took. My mother was in the visitors parking lot, the whole time. My step father says "Give this to your mother." I look down, and grab the piece of paper, and proceed to my mothers car, and hop in. "Sorry" she says. "You know why I could not be in that room with him" I just nod and look out the window.

.

positive and negative?

                     Most of us look back on the past, and often focus on the people that affected us negatively. However, the positive ones in a persons life, hardly come to mind. Were the positive ones, actually a positive influence like you thought? These "positive" people, obviously, made you smile. Were you really happy? Probably not. Were the people that made a negative influence upon yourself, really "negative" people? But were they just trying to make positive decisions for yourself, which you thought were negative?
                   This wasn't a normal roller coaster ride. Mom and I felt as though we were going to get derailed from the tracks. I tried to hold on. The seat belt wouldn't save us this time. I felt dead.
I still sat next him even though I was invisible to his eyes. I tried to hold his hand, he tried to drown me. He was a pure and good inside. I could see who he really was. There was something hiding the real him. He was taken over, long long ago. I sat there still helpless on that roller coaster ride. I closed my eyes, but it would not cause this realistic illusion to disappear.





Once I opened my eyes, my daddy was gone.









.

letter

Dear Rachel :)

Sorry bout the shitty little piece of paper, but supplies are limited. Rehab sucks donkey balls, but if it helps me get sober, to be with you, it is worth it. (scribbled out word) I hella miss you though and I wish I could call you and talk to you :( Out of all the people that I've been thinking about in here, you're the one I think about the most often, probably because I'm starting to realize how much of a dick I've been to you because of my drug use. I've been sober 3 days now and I'm already thinking more clearly. I'm also starting to realize how lucky I am to have someone like you in my life who has stuck by my side through all my bull shit. I hope everything is okay with you... Please write me back! I'm getting hella sad that i don't get to see you for a month. 

I love you

Taylor

Andrew

FRIDAY

Weekends are with my mom, so he decides to bring me over to my semi-normal mothers, house. He does not know she is out of town until Monday morning, but I do not bother telling him that. The brat triplets, that somehow I am related to, are at my grandmothers house. I hop in his red Toyota truck and put on my seat belt. I look over and watch Steve somehow make his way into the car. I turn my head and glance out the window, as he turns on the car. I still feel light headed, but I act as though I am perfectly fine. He turns a couple knobs and country music comes on. I feel sick. He starts to giggle his head around in circles like a bobble head, that you get at a giants game. I begin to feel sicker. I stare at him. Country is, what I consider, professional yodeling. I turn my attention to the road, wishing to already be home.
The light turns yellow. While he screeches to a halt, my cell phone flies to the ground. I go to grab it, and change the station. I sit back up, and do the same bobble head motion that he was doing just minutes ago. He just glares at me. I look ahead, still doing the bobble head motion. "VERDE" i yell. He steps on the gas and my head hits the seat. What a bastard.

We finally get to my house. I hop out of his car. I salute "Arevaderche". He puts on a fake smile and pulls out of the drive way. I go to grab the key on top of the screen door. It is not there. The house is locked, whoop dee do. I roll my eyes, then giggle the handle once more. I run over to the fence, and sigh. Then I look at the garbage can, and smile. I roll over to the big green box over to the side of the fence and somehow I get on top. I throw my hands in the air with victory. My weight causes and indent into the lid, which causes me to loose me balance. I fall to my knees on top of the lid, and laugh seconds later. I finally get over the fence, safely. I always keep one window unlocked to the sun room, I get myself in successfully.

I get ready to go to lunch with my cousin, who I know will forget about out lunch date, so I decide to take a nap.


I get woken up to a text message. I open my eyes. I can hardly see, I am still half asleep. I open my phone. I have a text message from Andrew Puckett, my older brothers best friend. He has had a crush on me every since I first saw him, -when I was four- right before I was sixteen. I have not talked to him since we were dating. I have not seen him or really talked to him for a good eight months. We use to be really close, to close for my brothers liking, obviously. I open the text message. "Open the door." My eyes are wide open, and I am now wide awake.

I get up, smiling. I run to the door and quickly open it. I give him a HUGE hug. He walks in, right behind me.



"What are you doing here? I ask, smiling.
"Your look very nice today, Rachel. You've grown up a lot."
I nod my head and open the refrigerator.


I told him three days ago about what happen with Taylor, stealing my medication. He came over to talk, "just like old times". He brings up certain memories, that even I miss. He talks to me about Taylor, because he use to do drugs.


"When I did drugs, I did the same thing Taylor did, with my girlfriend. She got tired of me doing drugs, and just one day got up and left." he pauses " To this day, that was the worst moment of my life."


I say "I talked to him, he is genuinely sorry. His sister called me Tuesday night saying "If you feel that you need to break up with him, you should. But he really needs you in his life, girlfriend or not." I replied, "I can not just break up with him, unless he broke up with me. I will be completely honest."
I tell this to Andrew.


"I hope you know that I do not want you to break up you and Taylor, but I want the best for you, Rachel. I believe you guys are the best things for one another. I know he is in recovery, and at that time I was not. But if he relapses four times, I suggest just deleting him out of your life all together."


I begin to tear up. He give me a hug, for honestly about twenty give minutes.
















.

little blue pill

THURSDAY:

I am at my step dad's dull house. When you first walk in there is three couches. They look as though a flower like material took over a piece of furniture. There is a little side table that has The Bible, and a half eaten pop tart? I glance into the kitchen and it looks the same as it usually does. It has a 50s look to it, peach tile, white linoleum flooring that has some small design on each square. There is a white microwave, and a whole variety of chips scattered across the counter top, against the wall. All there is to do here is play solitaire on the computer, so I do not have to talk to Steve, his room mate. 

 It is just awkward. Who lives with their STEP DAD? Rachel Firkin Morgan, that's who. Steve, always wears an ARMY shirt, even though he is a real estate agent. He wears white Reebok sneakers. Every time I walk into the door be greets me and tries to give me a hug, which a dodge. His jeans always have this white paint on them. I think his hands have some sort of disease, because they are always in his pockets. He is chubby, everywhere. He has a uni brow, which I can not help but laugh at. He is so odd. He always asks me to play battle ship with him.

             My step dad is in San Diego until Sunday. It is totally amazing. I do not have to look at his horrifying face for a whole three days and four nights. Heaven? I think so. Minus Steve of course. He eats everything in the house. I just want to tell him he will get diabetes and die, but I know he is a tad bit smarter then I give him credit for. So I keep my yap shut.

 My step dad calls every hour just to make sure I am okay, because of my illness. It is borderline ridiculous. 

I am not allowed to go anywhere. I can not have anyone come over. I can not take a nap more then two hours. There is more to his five paragraph list of restrictions. He also has my day planned laid out for me. He has contacts of his family members in case of an emergency. I just might get a migraine, that will be the end of me, right?

My step dad calls at five in the afternoon, and tells me to take a certain pill. I take it, which my step dad has ordered for me to take, which is earlier then I usually do. So, while on the phone with him, I throw my medication high up in the air, and somehow it lands perfectly on my tongue. 

"BINGO" I yell. I grab my ninja turtle cup, and I fill it up with orange juice. I chug down my blue pill. "There." I say sarcastically. He then asks me "Did you take your -blank-?" I respond "No I just snorted a shit load of cocaine, and now I'm about to go sell myself. Can I call you back later?" 

" You're hilarious. Did you actually take it, or are you lying?" He says this as if I have the worst habit of lying, all the time. I lie about little things like "I did not have any ice cream today, Steve did." He treats me, when he does talk to me, like I am a criminal. Actually more like I am mental. 

It is now seven thirty and I take four more of my medication pills, and I put on my stupid patch, after I take a shower. --In first period I TA. A stupid girl asks me what the clear patch is for. Why is she checking out my legs to begin with? I tell her "It allows me to get free discounts on most items at Safeway." She looks at me with wide eyes, nods her head, then walks away. Mr. Dini and I try so hard not to laugh.-- 

 A little later, I take my -blank- medication. Within an hour, I begin to feel like the room is spinning. "How come I can hardly walk,?" I say while laughing. I pretty much slur to my step dads room mate, who is watching the food channel. He looks at me, confused. "Um, didn't you take your -blank- medication at five like your step dad told you to?" I stagger to the bathroom to yak. He somehow gets his large self out of his chair and waddles over to me like he can magically cure me.

 I OD'ed on my medication. My medication I take is so strong. I am not suppose to take it until it is seven, right after I eat. I took this really strong medication, twice.

Fantastic

.

May-September

 I feel as though a part of me is missing.  I have lost something I do not believe I will ever retrieve for as long as I live. There is not a replica. Only one of a kind. I have tried to get in contact. I only get a voice mail. I leave messages every once and a while, asking his how he is and telling him a little about what is going on with myself, after every voice mail I say "I hope you are safe". I know he is far from it. There is something terribly wrong. I try and not to think about what I have lost. I try to do well in school, but I can not focus. I have no drive in school or anything for that matter. Everyday seems to go on longer, as my grades drop lower and lower. I am getting much sicker, but it is not because of him. He gave me so much strength, and now I feel weak. I feel as though he is dead, but I mourn because he could be, or is about to be.

Tuesday 11/11, which explains the walk before and after.

    SUNDAY: 

When he went upstairs to yack.  I was at the bottom of the stairs, waiting to see if he was okay because he took such a long time. While proceeding down the stairs, he did not even look at me. I grabbed his hand, puzzled. He gave me a kiss, and made his way to the couch.  

TUESDAY: 

 It is a random day off, in the week. Veterans Day, of all days happens to fall on a Tuesday?  Thanks a lot Pioneer High for forcing us hard working children to go to school on an S PERIOD. So, anyways, I get a call at five in the morning, from Taylor. Who I did not talk to the night before. I am shocked by the time. 

"I want to be honest with you. Out relationship is about honesty, isn't it?"

I do not say anything.

"I took two of your -blank- medication out of your parents bed room. I originally wanted to use it to sleep, but when Alex came over. -There is a pause- Things kind of ... changed?"

Skeptical I ask ".... What ... happen?"

" Alex came over, and wanted to show me his bong" ( A while ago this incident, I remember, happened while I was on the phone with him. He yelled at the guy to get the beep out of here, and told him that he was clean) I remember I had your pills. Stuff.... I don't really know, got kinda out of hand?"

"What do you mean by, out of hand?!" I say in a rather nasty voice.

"I popped both of your pills, Rachel. In a matter of twenty minutes I felt high as could be."

My medication is so strong, and when a person takes ONE it that does not need it, of course it is that much more powerful, negatively. Taylor did drugs, he used Xanix when he didn't have anything else. He use to tell me back in the day he popped ONE Xanix, and he wouldn't be completely gone, but borderline.

He took two of my medication. Compared to Xanix, my medication is four times as strong. He basically took 8 times Xanix, when in the olden days he took only one.

"Rachel, I went through seizures. I was practically choking on my own vomit. When I got up I fell over. I felt as though my head was spinning. I now am not aware about anything else that happen that day besides what I just told you."

I am shocked. He stole my DISEASE medication, and OD'ed on it.

I start crying, yet again like a... little female dog.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. I understand if you want to break up with me."

"No, I do not. I am just registering all of this to be honest. I have nothing to say."

" Come on Rachel, you have no idea how hard it is to look in a cabinet and find a whole bunch of drugs I use to take when I was not sober."

"You are not sober anymore. FOUR MONTHS of not being sober, down the toilet."

" I love you Rachel, please don't break up with me."

" You chose drugs over me, MY illness drugs"

Sunday 11/9... to understand Monday 11/10

He came over Sunday.  The day before he promised to come and see me after school,

Sunday:

 We are watching star wars, which to tell you the truth, scared me to death. I feel like a complete loser. I grab the clicker, and fidget around with the buttons and make some noises that sound like a dying video game "We need a new movie" I say with a "trying not to smile", face.  I storm out of the room to grab, Lord Of the Rings. This movie scares me just as much, but I pretend it does not, even though I am burrowing my head into his side. 

My mom got all of us pizza. I am super excited, even more so because Taylor and I were able to sit on the couch and eat in peace, from the three little monsters that are someone how half related to me. Half is the most significant word in that last sentence. 

He eats three pieces. He thinks he has an ulcer, which makes him throw up a lot. He is just starting medication. I am of course worried, but not as much, because I know why he is throwing up. He can not use the bathroom down stairs because my little sister is taking a long shower, as usual. 

I tell him to go upstairs to use my parents upstairs. He comes down and is perfectly fine. Thank the higher power. Things go on as normal. We stop the movie, because I said it was to lame. Then he beats me in chess, and horse. This always happens, every single firkin time. But I beat him in golf, like every time. He goes home, but of course I do not see him tomorrow, Monday. I do not talk to him either. 

Just on a walk: Monday 11/10

             It is a sunny, but somehow freezing in my opinion, Monday. This day I get out of school at 12:02. He promised me he would meet me at school for an hour or so, so we could "chat". 

          I walk off campus to call, and find out his location. I start heading down the street He is with Alex. Some guy friend, who's name I have never heard before. He tells me he does not have a ride over to Pioneer. He is apparently home. I start to get angry. I sit down on the curb on a not so busy street, close to Pioneer. He tells me he will call me in an hour, at around one, after him and Alex chop it up for a bit. 

            He does not call me an hour later. I am kinda panicked, but not to much. He probably got side tracked, because Alex is visiting. Understandable. I call him at two, once I get home. He is on a walk with Alex. He tells me he will call me later. After his outpatient meeting he is going to come over my house, so I do not get to upset over not talking to him for at least a couple minutes. Something does not feel right.

          A couple hours later I get a call from his twenty year old sister, Tawni. She asked me if I have talked to Taylor. I told her I did around an hour ago. She tells me that her mom is worried because all the windows are opened and stuff is moved around, and that he is not home. 

"He is with Alex, on a walk apparently."

There is a pause.

"Alex?" she says his last name, which I do not remember.

"Where does he live?" she asks

"Down your street according to Taylor."

"Call me if you hear anything, please"

"Of course, please let me know if you hear anything too."

We get off the phone. I feel completely sick to my stomach

I try calling him. No answer. 

I text him. He does not text me back.

He is probably at his outpatient by now, but he always texts me while he is there.

At six, while I am napping, Taylor's mom calls my house.

My sister wakes me up, of course after she got off the phone with his mother.

She tells me that he is not coming over today.

I wonder if he is home. I highly doubt it. If he went home, his mom would let him come over. She always lets him come over. Always.

I have not talked to him since two O'clock,

and now is is twelve at night.

I can not fall asleep. I have called and text messaged him a million times, with no response.

I am worried. I have thrown up three times.

.