A slight groan escaped my throat while I counted the number of people that were before me. I tried to distract myself by resting my eyes on the yellow-light chandeliers that hung directly above where the priest's seat was. If it could talk, it wouldn't speak Latin but money. The priest looked so cute as he led the procession to take the Lord's blood. Such a disturbing metaphor, but I smacked my lips all the same.
We had planned to meet later in the day and meeting with him meant giving him something I had for something else in return. Part of the reason why I was in church on a 'Good Friday,' was to remind him of our meeting. But at that moment, what was more important was the holy communion I was going to take part in.
My gaze shifted to my boots while I slipped my shaky hands into the pockets of my leather jacket. The number of empty seats would have been lesser if we were served alcohol as holy communion.
"God bless father Michael if he doesn't bring me a bottle of liquor today. I shall remind him of how much I had already spent on his 'next of kin'_ Vanessa. Or was it Carissa?"
I looked up and gave a quick scoff, my eyes catching hold of his.
His lips twitched into a cunning smile and there was something savage about the way he looked at me. I frowned, pretending not to have noticed anything. We were standing on holy ground and therefore had to act holy right? Illusions!
Truth is, I'd rather have had fun knowing full well that I was dwelling in sin than stay one more day amid hypocrites, but I had to, or else I wouldn't have gotten what I wanted. Booze for free!
I swallowed hard as the ushers walked into the church with stainless trays which carried little plastic cups containing what? Ribena?
I scratched my head and looked sideways in a bid to hide my laughter.
The line kept moving and when it had gotten to my turn, I looked up to father Michael and winked, producing a hand from my pocket. He looked nervous, shifting his gaze sideways in other to make sure nobody was watching the drama.
The biggest hypocrite of them all.
My hand shuddered as I picked up my cup of Ribena. I glanced at him again before going back to my seat. Why couldn't I take two?
The bread. A silent hiss escaped my lips. What was I going to do with that kind of dough? I needed the numbered type that could afford me dope. Dope, I smiled. I needed some dope.
I picked up the bread.
...........
"This is my body..." I listened to the priest who spoke with eloquence, reading from the book that sat on the podium as my eyes guarded the liquid contained in my cup.
It reminded me of how it all started. How I had gone to the store to purchase some drugs in hopes that they would help me out of my life of depression. No persuasion, no cajoling. It was my choice.
A sudden flush of guilt covered me. What if I had chosen to talk to a therapist? Well, it was too late to reverse. No regrets! I threw the rolled dough into my mouth.
"This is my blood..." My body fidgeted in rhythm with the words of the priest. I didn't have much patience.
"Do this in memory of me," he said.
I swallowed, then I looked at the empty cup and frowned at the usher who hissed and beckoned to me to keep the cup on the stainless tray that was placed on a table in between the rows of seats. Yeah. It wasn't and could never be alcohol.
I wanted something hot. Something better like a 501 brandy or scotch.
To hell with the church! I turned around and marched toward the exit. An usher walked toward me.
"Ma'am the service hasn't been called to a halt," he said.
I assessed him from head to toe and released a scoff, raising my T-shirt to reveal my breasts which were cupped in a lace bra.
"Oh... I'm so sorry," I giggled.
The church members were in shock. Some whispering and others speechless.
A sudden glimmer of shame moved over 'Mr sanctuary keeper's face. I guffawed. Was it because he saw my breasts or because I did something crazy in the sanctuary? Father Michael would have licked his lips though. I pouted.
All right get out of here!
I ran out of the church, still laughing. I knew I was in for counseling. Something that never changed me. The last time they tried to get me to change, it wasn't a very good experience. I had broken two teeth and an ankle. Not mine though.
I giggled as I walked towards the tall gates of St Michaels Catholic Church.
Well...I wasn't willing to change. I loved being an anonymous alcoholic. The horse that would not drink water when taken to the stream. Better still, a unicorn. I could drink when taken to a stream of booze though.
"Anonymous unicorn!" I bent down before the gate and laughed till I could no longer breathe. Then I stepped out.
The worst drug dealers in the dregs of Lagos knew where to find me, so it wasn't difficult to get my package. I did not know how I got to my room, because I started consuming them on the streets.
.........
The lights of my duplex came on as I tiptoed to my bed, looking at the ground in disgust. I needed a maid!
"Alexa, give me 'This feeling' by The Chainsmokers," I said.
"This feeling, now playing." The Amazon Echo responded. Music was an inspiration.
It was my inspiration for wanting more. I changed into jean shorts and a tank top and grabbed my phone. Daddy priest's number wasn't connecting.
"He is taking so much time!" I murmured and flung the phone as I walked to the table beside my bed, took a gulp of some liquor, inhaled some crack, danced, and fed more.
My body moved to the rhythm of the song as I sniffed in some cocaine. Oh! How I loved what I felt.
I grabbed a pocket knife from the table and grinned. The design I had already given my body had not finished healing and I was already adding more. I wanted pain. Or was it sex? Maybe it was louder music. What was it? I wanted something!
I began to cry, cut more, and dance more. Finally, I gave up. The satisfaction that came with everything made me happy. My breathing was heavy.
"They tell me think with my head, not that thing in my chest, they got their hands on my neck this time. But you're the one that I want, if that feeling's so wrong then they don't know what this feeling is like!"
I sang with passion, pointing to a bottle of scotch.
Then I moved to the bed and began to dress it as I nodded to the music. Halfway through, I left it and grabbed a broomstick. I began to sweep.
"Urgh!" I flung the broomstick and started jumping to the music.
Just then, the lights went off. "What the hell!" I muttered, strolling to the end of the room. I scratched all parts of my body and removed a pill of cocaine from my back pocket. I flung it into my mouth as I searched for a torch light.
Something made a sound behind me. I froze. Was it a sound or my imagination? My eyes peered into the darkness.
"Who's there?" I asked, but there was no answer.
I shrugged and continued to search. Just then, I felt a grip on my throat. "Stacy...," A whisper, so deep and real, covered my ears. I let out a loud cry and tried to free myself from the grip, but to no avail. The strange thing was that there was a hand on my neck, but there was no human behind or before me. I got terrified.
"Help," I whispered. "Jesus! Help me," I held my neck and struggled for breath.
"No. You need me. Come and take more." I felt myself being dragged to the table where I kept the drugs. "Take more," I heard more whispers and followed its instructions immediately.
I got tired, but as soon as I stopped, the grip became tighter. "You wanted more, didn't you? Take more," It told me.
I squalled. "No. I don't want more. I don't. No!" I coughed hard.
"You need a river of booze. Take more."
My head was pushed down to the table. "Sniff. Sniff!" I sniffed.
"Please," I begged.
"Who will save you now?" I closed my ears as the voice came from all directions. It didn't stop. It was all in my head.
I cried harder and at that moment, death was on my list of options for freedom, but damn! I wasn't ready to die.
"Jesus. Jesus. Jesus!," I screamed out.
"Save me. Please," I cried. So hard I felt like vomiting out my lungs.
Just then, everything went silent. I opened my eyes to see a group of nurses holding me; some praying and some calling me by my name.
"Stacy!" My nurse looked terrified.
"No! No! No!," I screamed out and broke free, making a quick run for the door. Just then, I stopped, realizing that I was still in rehab and it was a dream.
It was another episode of torment. Tears flowed freely from my eyes as everyone stared at me like I was a bomb about to explode.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, falling to the ground.
The doctor and nurses rushed to me and held me. It was hell. It was not easy to change. It brought nightmares, urge, and depression, but I was willing. That was all I needed...
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