When We Became Me, Myself, and I
Prologue for: Me, Myself, and I
by
Writer's Gone Wild
Whit steps back in time to the begining. This was written for a compulation so sorry if it seems weird to see the begining.
Gripping the worn porcelain, I tried not to puke in the gross bathroom sink I'd learned to hate. She'd finally done it, off'd herself on the crap. Too many times I'd caught her on the brink of OD'ing. This time I didn't make it.
"What the fuck!" I sneered, punching the mirror, shattering it.
The splintered cracks spread like the web of lies she'd fed me over the years. She'd lied about my birth, her death, and everything in between. Shifting my eyes down to the cuts on my knuckles, I should have felt the pain, but all I felt was disturbingly numb. A million memories haunted me, none of them pleasant. The echo of her cries, her monotone pleas for just one more hit replayed in rapid succession. It was always just one more with her.
My earliest recollection of my childhood was of her passed out on the tattered tweed couch with a needle hanging from her arm. That was on my fifth birthday. Having never experienced a birthday party, it shocked me that other kids' parents celebrated their births. Mine was just one more reason to get wasted.
I never had the simple things people take for granted. Cable TV didn't exist in our house. The phone only worked a handful of months throughout the year. We moved one step ahead of the electric company's shut off notices, and when that didn't work, she'd find out ways to convince the men sent to cut us off that it was more beneficial to leave it on. Computers were something made of fairy tales. Higher education came from running the streets, and I learned it well.
More often than not, our refrigerator sat empty. My pants were inches too short, my shirts were too snug, but she always had the money to get her next hit. My needs never mattered, only hers. I had no one to call Dad, just stray men floating through until she drained them of anything worth taking. No that it went to me, just one more shot in the needle. Shaking my head, I sighed. What it must feel like to be thought of as important enough to pay attention to.
Glaring back at my distorted reflection, I cackled. "What a bitch!"
Looking back at her through the broken mirror, I made my decision. Really, it turned out not to be too hard. I didn't have anything left here. Pushing away from the vanity, I stalked out of the bathroom, and into my tiny hole in the world. Gathering up what little I had and the few scraps of paper I'd discovered next to her body, I shoved it haphazardly into my bag, and shuffled out of the house, taking a deep breath of fresh air. Hitching my bag up on my shoulder, I walked way from my old life, away from the ghosts, and went searching for a better tomorrow, where me, myself, and I would live together as one. We'd never have to struggle again, I'd see to that.
Growing up in the dumps of Chicago, I knew my way around, how to get by undetected by those I didn't want to see me. I knew the moment the police found her lifeless body, they'd come looking for me, shit my prints were all over the place. I may not have much in the way of book smarts, but I was street wise, and I'd seen first hand what happens to the kids who get put in the system. I wouldn't allow myself to be like them. I was better than that. I'd prove it one way, or another.
By the time I got out of the city, the sun had set and darkness wrapped around me. Unlike most kids, I'd never been afraid of the dark. I embraced the solitude, my head was crowded enough. The stars shimmered above me, paving the way toward bigger and better times. A cocky smile curved upward on my face, things would be much different now. I'd be in charge.
I'd been walking for a few miles when an eighteen wheeler pulled to the side of the interstate. When the passenger door flew open, I took it as a sign that the driver wanted to give me a ride. Foolish, maybe, but it beat the hell out of walking across the country. Shifting my bag up on my shoulder I ran up to the semi, and climbed into the cab.
"Thanks for the ride," I mumbled, stashing my bag between my feet. I knew enough to be prepared to jump if this guy turned out to be a creep. Momma may have been a junkie, but she didn't raise no fool.
"Where ya headed, boy?" He shifted the truck into gear, pulling back out onto the highway.
Shrugging my shoulders, I looked out the window, "Away from here."
Satisfied that he wasn't going to get more than that out of me, he turned his eyes back to the road, letting the subject drop. Giving the illusion that I was watching the road, I studied him, taking in as much as I could. He's what a person might call your average trucker, large and meaty. Curly, dark hair, matching eyes, and a thick neck, he looked like a lumberjack. His fingers were twice the size of mine, his skin dark and rough from a hard days work. Sitting on his left ring finger, was a simple gold wedding band.
"How long have you been married?" I quizzed.
A sly smile spread up his face, but he never looked away from the road. "Nearly twenty years."
Nodding my head, I looked out the window again. "How many of those years have you spent more than a week together?"
"Not as many as I'd like," he groused, speeding up.
For the next handful of hours, we rode in silence. Eventually, he turned on the radio in an effort to fill the void. More than once, I noticed him staring at the ring on his finger. I could almost see his mind working, replaying the few words we'd said to each other on our journey together. Perhaps, he was finally admitting what had been in front of him for too long. Just as the sun started breaking through the early morning clouds, he stopped outside of a small, mid-western town, resting both of his hands on the black, leather stirring wheel in front of him.
"You gonna be okay, kid?" he asked, worry lacing each word.
"I'm gonna be just fine," I replied, smiling. "How much longer on this trip?"
"Too long," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Take care of yourself. The world's a dangerous place."
Opening the door, I tossed my bag into the ground. "Believe me, I know."
I hopped out, closing the door behind me. Picking up my bag, I stepped off the side of the road and watched him drive away, heading off to where ever his own journey would take him. Turning, I headed into the small, quiet, farm town. It was one of those places you saw in the movies, where everyone knows everyone. Grimacing, I hoped my stop here would be fruitful. I needed to find myself.
Stopping downtown, I peered into the window, watching the television flicker with a commercial featuring ice cream. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn't eaten in too long. Tearing my eyes away from the screen, I looked around, trying to plan my next move. Not like she'd left any money sitting around, I checked before running.
"What are you doing out here?" Turning to my left I saw an older lady stepping out of a small diner down the block. She waved at me. "Get in here, before they see you, boy."
Tightening my grip on my bag, I shuffled down the street, stepping inside the diner. Looking around, I barely managed to stifle my snort. The place looked like an old west show had exploded inside. Metal cutouts of horses, and cowboys hung on the walls. Saddles rested on the top of dark stained cabinets; a boot brush was bolted into the floor. On the post next to each booth, hooks had been attached for the men to hang their hats on.
"Why are you just standing there?" groused the old woman, yanking on my arm. I allowed her to pull me over to the counter, falling on the stool with a groan. For a tiny woman, she had a fucking horse wrangler's grip.
Her salt and peppered hair had been wrapped into a perfect bun on the back of her head. Barely standing over five foot, she moved quick for her age, considering she had to be pushing seventy. Looking around, she locked her beady, dark blue eyes on me, narrowing. Shifting on my seat, I winced when my stomach growled again.
"What's it gonna be, boy?" she jibed, moving around to other side of the counter.
"Coffee, black, please?" I replied, flashing her my most charming smile. I'd learned a long time ago how to flirt with women, even those old enough to be my grandmother.
Shaking her head, she turned, picking up an empty coffee cup, and setting it in front of me. While she filled my cup, she eyed me closely, like she was trying to put together a puzzle. "Have I seen you before?"
"Don't think so, ma'am." Clearing my throat, I picked up my cup and took a sip, moaning at the heavenly taste.
"Hummm, 'kay. Well, word of the wise, get what you came here for and get out before Preacher Cullen and his wife see you. They're not the nicest folks." Lifting an eyebrow, she shifted her eyes between me and the door, telling me not to waste any time.
"Thanks for the warning. They live on what side of town exactly?" I pressed, trying not to sound to arrogant.
"The south side. Only white house around there." Opening the drawer to the register, she pulled out a few twenty dollar bills, sliding them across the counter to me. Before I could protest, she shook her head, and walked into the kitchen. I grabbed the money, shoving it into my back pocket.
Taking her hint, I went to see where it would lead me. Who knew it would lead me to find myself? Heading her warning, I didn't hang long in the sleepy shit hole. Once I had one more piece to the puzzle that made up my life, I was gone.
Grabbing a greyhound bus, I headed to the next stop on the trail of discovery: Las Vegas, City of Sin. And Lord knows I had enough of them under the belt. It was a little disturbing at first seeing more than one reflection in the morning mirror. It shouldn't have surprised me that my mind made room for the extra me, so I decided not to fight it. Being in Vegas also allowed me to let loose and discovered that I enjoyed the sexual pleasures of both men and women.
Sitting in the Casino Royale all the pieces fell into place. One encounter with Rosalie Hale was enough to convince us we needed to leave. Turned out cheating at cards was a nifty trick to have. By the time Vegas blew into a distant memory, we had yet one more personality to merge into our new world and enough money to do it very comfortably. Me, myself, and I were ready to set out and make our own existence as one entity.
With a huge bank roll, buying a car for cash under the name Jasper Whitlock III was easy. We headed to sunny Miami in the red, convertible Mustang. For the first time in my life, we had a home, a life away from the streets, and most of all we had each other to wake up to. Sure sharing the mirror was a little difficult but we made do.
A/N Such a strange begining! but there it is, how Me, Myself, and I became one. Feel free to send us some love.
