Michelle Lectures in Literature Creative Adaptation Project The Last Kiss Every night, I watch as the night devours

the entire sky, flooding the infinite space with darkness. The darkness knows everything; my secrets, my lies, the things I try to keep hidden, and my truths. It mocks me as it takes an extremely convenient seat in the back of my mind, waiting to expose my vulnerability to anyone willing to listen. The darkness has no limits, knows no boundaries, and shows no mercy. The absence of light provokes my need for something bigger than love or lust. I try to scrape the empty bucket of my mind for a trace of some sort of innocence left from my childhood, and all I find is my curiosity for something unknown. I took my future into my own hands, and wound up playing for keeps with small amounts of fine white powder known as crank, cocainethe monster. Every night, the darkness swallows me whole, spitting me into a state of dream-like awareness where dreams are few and nightmares arent easy to escape. I see myself, alive, living, breathing, eating, but I feel absolutely nothing without the help of the monster. My body moves, muscles contracting and relaxing, but my mind doesnt. Im asleep inside myself, waiting for something or someone to wake me up and pull me out of this absence of light. My life before cocaine ended with a nineteen year old boy. His name is Danny, and he had every intention of corrupting my eighteen year old mind, body, and soul. My parents tried to shield me from the fast life Danny offered me, like I was some kind of Guantanamo Bay prisoner, holding me captive in my own personal hell. I stopped listening to their demands to break up with Danny. Their false accusations filled my head,

in the form of bullshit excuses to get me back. I took the upper hand in the situation, refusing to fight back. Instead, I listened to the voice inside my head telling me that all I had to do is walk out the door. Rather than being with a wholesome boy who took me to see a movie, and didnt believe on kissing on the first date, I fell in sync with Danny and the tiny, cold, white bag he so expertly placed between my clenching fists. I never saw him strictly as a dealer. He acted as my only source of relief, and a poor excuse for love. He never tried to save me like my parents fought countless times to do. He opened up the depths of my mind, exploring the bright colors hidden behind my eyelids. . The first time I touched cocaine at a party was with Danny. Hey, Sleeping beauty, I promised you a good time, right? his lips curved into a smirk, brown eyes burning on mine as he let his nickname for me slip off his tongue. He enjoyed commenting on the fact that Talia was the name of sleeping beauty in a version he had read. He dug into his pockets, pulling out a clear plastic bag, smaller than the size of my palm. Quickly looking around, he handed it to me, nodding towards the bathroom. It felt so secretive, like Danny wasnt only handing over hard street drugs, but he was handing over a life long bond of trust. Up until that night, I had been a relatively good girl straight a student, honor roll, candy striper. But there I was blowing cocaine off the bathroom sink top. It wasnt classy. It felt messy, destructive, and dangerous. I let the crystallized white powder trace its way up my nose, dancing through my veins and creeping slowly into the depths of my mind. At that point, whatever innocence that had remained in my body, abandoned me. The drug settled at the base of my spinal cord, like a snake, taunting me, Im coming and theres nothing you can do about it.

At first, I didnt mind the high I got from cocaine. The effects filled my mind while sinking into my bones. The constant rush of energy and the euphoric sensation made me believe I wasnt insignificant in the world. Danny and I would hit several parties, surrounding ourselves with sham friends who were just as high as we were. I could hear better and see clearer. I felt every single fiber in my body ignite, as I focused my attention to movements I had been taking for granted, like my heartbeat pulsing through my entire body, heat rushing through my veins. After awhile, the effects died down, and I felt less euphoric, and more addicted. Blowing cocaine felt like turning on an electric stove, and watching the coils glow red; like pressing the palm of my hand onto the burning heated coil, and forcing my muscles to contract and keep it there. For the first 15 seconds, my skin would bubble and sizzle on the coil, and Id make every bribe in the book to God to make the pain stop. But I was addicted, and the monster didnt stop at that kind of pain. No, the monster wanted me to pry welded flesh off the coil, ripping away layers of skin, and 3rd degree burns. Its enough to make anyone sick. As much as I wanted to stop, I couldnt. I still cant. Im asleep in my own bodya body that forces itself into addiction. I need woken up. My eyes opened wide as I focused on the clock sitting atop my night stand. The luminous green letters read 4:21am. The green lights reflected off the bottle of Nyquil, which was far from helping me sleep like the label had promised. I wasnt guaranteed a full nights rest. The physiological sickness I was suffering from needed more help than over the counter drugs. Groaning, my legs twisted like rooted vines twisted in the hot depths of the ground. The sheets sucked against my sweat soaked legs, making it incredibly hard to free myself without making too much noise and movement. My body

shook from mixture of medication, lack of sleep, and the mental state of my brain stewing in nightmares. I pulled the covers off of me, disgusted by the milky pale arm that fit almost perfectly around my lower waist. I grimaced, wanting nothing more than to push it off of me; push him off of me. I hated how he immediately always thought it was alright to just touch me like that. Like I was okay with another human body curved out of a lump of clay weighing me down. I turned my face away from his as I slipped back into a sense of dream-like awareness. I watched as the room dipped in and out, contorting my vision. I pushed my fists against my eyes, trying to cease the distortions, falling into another nightmare. Dannys hand clamped over my mouth in the process of mid-scream. My chest tightened without air, and I shoved the hand that had trapped the breath in my body away as I fell over the side of the bed and repeatedly started vomiting. The sour smell of it filled the room, my body heaving with pouring the fowl liquid of my earlier contents to the floor. Stomach empty, my hand came to my mouth, and I shook. "Jesus, Talia. His rich voice was a blur of words as he leaned over me. I felt a cool hand slide up underneath the back of my shirt; it was a shock against the boiling heat of my skin. My stomach lurched and I fell forward, throwing up again. The bed creaked as he jumped off of it and ran across the room. He replaced the carpet with an ice bucket for me to empty the contents of my stomach into. I could only gasp rigidly in reply, my shaking fingers coming to my mouth. I heard Danny's feet pad quickly across the room and to the bathroom. I could hear him

rustling around, me still hunched over with the ice bucket underneath me. He came back with arms loaded in towels. Sitting next to me, he was careful to move the bucket with his foot as he threw a couple of towels on top of the fowl pile of chemicals I had up heaved with my impressive digestive skills. I groaned loudly when I finally felt the rumble in my stomach slowly die down for the time being. Danny's hand slid into my vomit-free hand and placed that familiar white bag into it. How long Tal? How long has it been since you used? he exhaled softly, shaking his head, This bullshit game youre trying to play isnt working. You cant win, you cant break even, and you cant get out. Face it, Tal, you and I are addicts. The words stung my ears as they flowed from his mouth. I hate how he used that word to make me seem hopeless. It acts like a constant reminder that Ill never be able to escape. Still, there was no use arguing with him, no use fighting what my body so desperately needed. I ripped the bag out of his grasp, ashamed, standing up as the room spun around me. I found my way into the bathroom, not bothering to turn the lights on. My hand tightly grasped the edge of the sink, as I steadied myself. I emptied the tiny bag, white powder contrasting the dark black sink top. I carefully arranged the white mess into a tiny precise line, bringing my nose to it, inhaling heavily. I covered my face with my hands, waiting for the effect, waiting for the relief. The voice at the base of my spine ignited, spreading warmth through my body. I told you I was coming. I heaved my body back towards the bedroom, careful not step in any bodily fluids as I trudged back. Danny looked at me, a smile spreading across his lips with satisfaction. My

body hit the mattress as I slid underneath the covers, pulling them tightly around me. I knew Id spend the rest of the night wide awake, fighting the urge to crawl back into the darkness and relive everything all over again. Once again, Dannys long arm instinctively reached around my waist and pulled me close into his side, his body curving against mine. I managed to fall into the phase of sleep where I knew I wasnt fully unconscious, but I knew I wasnt even close to being awake. I opened my heavy eyelids, locking my sights on the alarm clock. I had been in this sleeplike trance for over 12 hours since my vomit fiasco. I reached my hand to my nose, feeling the sticky mess of blood smeared over my cheek from using. I didnt feel warm anymore. Instead, a rush of lethargy invaded my body. I dragged my almost lifeless body into the shower, hoping the sensation of hot drenching water would wake me up. I wanted so badly to go through an entire day, and remember the events. I wanted nothing more that to look at everyone, and remember their faces. To me, nothing is as beautiful as having a memory, and nothing exists uglier than having it erased by the throws of cocaine. It hadnt occurred to me that the house was so deafeningly quiet, until after I had gotten out of the shower. My body ached from heaving, muscles contracting and relaxing with every wave of nausea. Warm clothes hung loose on my body, another reminder of what cocaine does to you. I was never this thin. I was skin and bones. The kind of skinny that makes one cry whenever he hugs me. My ribs jutted out unevenly through my torso, skin trying to attach itself at any sharp angle. I called out to Danny, hoping he could hear me, wherever he had ventured off to. He didnt respond. This time I called again, expanding my lungs, forcing more sound out. Once again, he didnt respond. My feet

instinctively took the initiative to move, and look for him. I silently walked down the hallways, covered in cheap art prints, running my fingertips over the textured walls. My goal wasnt to wake Danny up, in case he had spent the entire night trying to scrub my withdrawal symptom out of the carpet. I saw him lying on the couch in the living room, peaceful. Danny was like dead weight when he slept. But this time, his face looked almost too peaceful. I walked over to him, pressing my flat palm on his pale arm, instantly jerking away. Cold. Too cold. Stiff. Dead. Danny my voice was loud and hurried, almost like my body wanted me to yell. I thought if maybe I screamed loud enough, he would hear me. I looked nervously down at the boy who I had just seen alive and well less than a day ago. My eyes averted to the coffee table beside the couch where two empty bags occupied the corner of the table. Two bags of any drug are too much for just one person. Had he intentionally killed himself? Or was he just too tired from cleaning up after me? Either way, the boy I had so desperately loved, lie motionless on the couch, his skin marbled and ice cold. As an eighteen year old, I wasnt prepared to see anyone die, especially not anyone whose heart belonged to me. Regardless of the situation, regardless of the fact that what we were doing here was illegal, I picked up the phone, and dialed the only number my fingers could comprehend. 911, state your emergency The operators voice was smooth and calm.

I need an ambulance, I screamed into the receiver, my hands shaking, holding back burning tears, Please, just send an ambulance. He overdosed, hes cold. Just send someone, Please Miss, can you tell me your name? she asked as I continued to panic, my heartbeat reverberating in my ears. Hes dead I shoved the receiver down, covering my face with my hands. I felt a sob escape my throat as I got to my feet, before all of it began to hurt. The thump of pain from inside my chest screamed at me, telling me to cry, making me believe that death was supposed to hurt. In that instant, I realized that I didnt want to die. Before packing as many of my belongings as I could, in the fastest time possible, I dialed the number to the hospital. My Name is Talia Woods, and Im a cocaine addict, and I need help I ducked out the back door, trudging through the woods that connected Dannys house with the adjacent neighborhood. I flagged down a ride to the hospital, and walked inside knowing that walking out wasnt an option anymore. I can put up with throwing up, sweating, shaking, suffering from aches and pains, but I cannot deal with not waking up tomorrow morning. I realized in that moment that Danny had saved me, even if he never intentionally planned on it. The wake up call I so desperately needed came in the form of my boyfriend dyinga kiss of death. And as I stare out of the clear hospital window, I watch as the darkness swallows the moon and everything I had been hiding, my secrets, my truths, and my addiction, whole, while spitting me out alive and new again.