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"Hi, everyone, um my name is Carter-Long. I am an alcoholic." "Hi, Carter", crowed the group surrounding me. "I was at a party, and I um, had an incident you could say. That morning I woke up reluctant, but more so had a bad feeling about the day. As the day went on the inferior feeling continued to grow, and I guess I should have stuck with my gut, and not have gone to that party I guess." The room when silent. Then I turned to the man next to me. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man. Mabey a swimmer. He had bright hair like the sun, a strawberry blonde color, a little lighter. He began to introduce himself to the crowd, and tell his story just as I had. I closed my eyes and began to recall that night. My friend Clarisa had invited me to the party, I knew I had a bad feeling that day, but agreed. I was rather fond of her. I remember arriving around 10, it was dark. There was a sense of stupidity in the flock, including myself. I was just 17 then, but I thought of myself as 30. I was always told a was "mature" for my age. I never knew what to think of it. But with this "maturity" came me believing that I could do anything I wanted. In today's society, it is normal for a 17-year-old to party and drink. So when that boy offered me that awful beer, I accepted. Before I knew it I had drunk 10 shots and was drunk as a middle-aged man on his 7th beer who still believes he is young. I was in a trans, willing to do anything and everything to have a good time, so I did. Chris, a senior who used to go to Leigh Highton showed up. I always knew him as the bad kid who carried vodka in his water bottle. But like I said, I was looking for a good time. He came up with the idea that we should all go down to the club and pick up some broad. I was hesitant at first, but peer pressure was my best friend. Chris wanted to drive, but I knew better than to let that moron drive. In the future, I would know who the real moron is. I drove, Chris in the passenger seat, and his two friends in the back. I felt bad about leaving Clarrise there, but I knew she would forgive me. I knew I wouldn't be picking up any girls, and neither would any of the others in the car. We were driving down the street faster than the speed limit. But Chris insisted on going faster. We were driving 101 mph at that point when we went to take a sharp turn, the music blaring. I did not see the little chevy malibu compared to Chris's huge truck. We ramed into the little car so hard, Chris's friend, Matteo flew through the windshield. I remember the feeling of nothingness. I blacked out. When I woke up all I could hear was sirens, louder and louder till I began to see an ambulance emerging from the road ahead. When I finally realized what happened I started to have a panic attack. I first looked back to see if Chris's other friend was okay, as far as I could tell he wouldn't make it to the hospital. Then I looked at Chris. I could have started balling right then and there. He had been passed out, I was not sure if he was okay or not I then remember the other car, how could I have forgotten the other car. I tried to get out of the car to check on the driver, then I saw my legs. My legs, covered in blood, cut up. I couldn't move them. At that moment it hit me, what would I do. I began to think of my parents, how they would react. Chris, Matteo, Gavin, the other driver. What would their family's do? Clarrise, how would she react. She surely would never talk to me again. College, hospital bills, possible lawsuits, car damage. What would I do? The last thing I remember was waking up in the hospital, my mother by my bedside weeping. For one second, one glorious second I had forgotten about everything that had just occurred. That second was soon followed by the realization after my parents reminded me of my horrible actions. I looked at her in shock, they were dead, they were all dead. What had I done to them, and their family. I couldn't imagine if that would happen to me, what they would do. My legs! My legs still couldn't move. When the nurse realized what I had just, she looked at me sorrowfully. "I'm sorry Carter, you suffered a lot of traumatic injuries in your lower half." "What does that me. Do-" She cut me off, "Carter you paralyzed from your hips down. I'm so sorry, none should ever have to go through this." I then forgot where I was for a minute, and just wept. I wept for what seemed like an eternity. When I came back, I couldn't deal with this anymore. I asked my parents and nurse to leave. I needed time alone to think. When I finally got this time after pleading, I did everything but think. I made a new reality, that none of this happened. I fell asleep after living my new reality. When I woke up, I remembered my dream. I lived in a small town in Connecticut, I owned a real estate business. My wife Clarrisa, with two small children, one boy one girl. I was living the perfect life. When I finished reliving my dream I remembered that my parents were in the room. I was told that I could leave in 4 weeks. They also brought up the idea of a support group. They said, "It will be a good thing for you to get the support and counseling you need to overcome this." Knowing what I did I would agree to anything. Once I got out of the hospital, I settled back at home. It was troubling adjusting to my new life. I had to use a wheelchair everywhere. Not only did I have to deal with my internal conflicts and feeling of guilt, but I also had to deal with the judgment of others. It was shard knowing that I once could walk wherever I wanted and know that I was "normal". The date that the support group was coming up. I was anxious. I walked in, no I rolled in. The friendly smiling faces invited me in. They had me introduce myself. "Hi, everyone, um my name is Carter-Long. I am an alcoholic." "Hi, Carter", crowed the group surrounding me. "Carter, Carter, CARTER" I woke up. IT WAS A DREAM. My legs could move, the friends weren't dead, Clarrisa wasn't mad. I made a promise with myself, no party's ever. As the years went on with no broken promise I was almost done college. I am studying buisness. I went to class and went on with my day. My girlfriend, Clarrisa asked me to go to a party with her on Saturday. I said no keeping my promise. She was as persistent as I am stubourn. As she kept to ask and break me down I finally agreed. I was so anxious, I counted down the days. 3 days, 2 days, 1 day, no days. I got ready that day for the party. We got in the car, going the speed limit. When we got there I thought my heart was going to fall out of my chest. I felt like I was going to throw up. I have the same feeling I had in my dream. I headed in with deja vu.
The effusive droplets of mellow, balmy rain tap gently against my fixed, casement frosted window. I catch my eye on a crack, spreading out like spiders legs at the corner of my eucalyptus wooden window frame, leaking out beads of cold, dust coated water. The leak bleeds out like blood, the water seems thick, abnormal.
I push my face closer, hesitantly, and notice an autumn carmine red ink flowing through the water following like open blood vessels, something like a haemorrhage. It felt like only yesterday that I experienced a moment something like this, a perplexing perception and notice to non-existent detail, in the quiet, alone. It felt so comforting to hold myself in my arms and aside from the worry of these delusions being real it was a relief to have such personal solace. As I exhaled I noticed a cold, agonisingly nerving fog drifting up to the point of my nose.
I let out an open sigh as I made my way to my coarsely white painted door and twisted the platinum black door knob so to open the door. A sudden cool breeze hit my face, I flinched and stepped backwards in an effort to fixate my nerves. I felt nervous and somewhat afraid of the night at which would soon follow. My first party in 17 years, my entire 17 years of existence and it was going to be big, more people in crowds than I had ever even met in my small town in Cairns, Australia.
My classmate, Izzy, invited me on what I can only assume was a whim. I had been pondering for days why she would possibly exceed the awkward boundary of even talking to me, even more, inviting me to her party 2 and a half hours out of town!
I walked over to my left and began to sort through the torn pieces of fabric that the moths had clearly gotten to, I released a sigh as I picked out the single blazer that I had, my dad's, before he disappeared. The thick cotton fabric had been attempted to by the moths on the inside, thankfully, it was wearable. The torso was a dark beige colour, the collar was slightly darker and had a tint of stripe patterned navy. I picked out a pair of pleat front beige pants to go with it, they didn't fit particularly well, they were also my dad's and as I put them on gently I couldn't help myself reliving the memories of him holding them up against him along with the variety of other pants and critiquing each one in his comical, somewhat animated manner as I laughed at him in loud, bursting bounds of breathe.
I tip toed gently to my mothers closet, she was passed out on the bed, under the linen sheets like all ways with a bottle of whiskey by her arms. Still, I couldn't wake her for I worried she would grab the belt she seemed to sleep next to for going into her room. Usually, I wouldn't dare but this was important. I flipped my fingers through her large collection of clumped and piled clothing. After what felt like ages I finally managed to grasp the top that I wanted. My mother use to be quite stylish, and had a large variety of different clothing and tops and pants in all different colours that would always look particularly gorgeous on her slim physique.
I picked out a brown, burnt umber polo shirt, it was loose on me but after I had tucked it into my cheviot pants and tightened the elastic of my waist band it looked half decent. After I put the blazer on, I observed myself in the grimy bathroom mirror to see that my hair was messy and oily as per usual. My house hadn't had electricity, nor, running water for years so I found it difficult to maintain hygienic and sanitary like everyone else in my class. On special occasions though, I would use, sparingly, a faintly tropical scented dry shampoo that I had found in my mothers bathroom one time. The bottle was tarnished and rustic, and after using it 4 times annually for 7 years straight it was running low. I managed out a dribble and smudged it throughout my scalp, I brushed my hair backwards with my fingers and separated my short, chestnut brown hair into a side part as best as I could. I washed off my hands with raspberry scented hand sanitiser out the window into the dying rose bushes and dried them on a hand towel, that hadn't been used for probably 13 years or so. I then, again, looked at myself in the mirror, I critiqued myself on my appearance at rapid speed in my head, my insecurities burst out in ripples throughout my mind, my teeth were slightly unaligned and tinted with flaxen yellow and my lips were so thin that the creases around it seems to take up more space on my face than both my hazel eyes combined. My jaw line was far too prominent and my cheek bones lifted so high so to made my face look long and sorrow-filled even when I would attempt at a smile. My backpack was the same as the one that I had had in 4th grade, thankfully though, I was never much for cartoons so it was a dying grey colour. It was ripped but not deeply and had dirt stains everywhere. I looked over, in the midst of my thoughts to find that the time was 11 54 pm, my heart began to rush as I realised that Izzy and her friends were only 6 minutes away from picking me up. I flattened down some floating hairs and patted my face down in an attempt to wake myself up from what has to be a dream
Then, 11 56, a knock at the door. Light, gentle knocking. 3 knocks.
Knock, knock, knock.
Repetitive, rhythmic, perfect.
I made my way to the front door, my legs felt, quite literally, like jelly. Stale, parched, splintering jelly that had been left in the sun to melt but defied what everyone would suspect in the most gross, unprecedented way.
I opened the door to the smiling face of Izzy. Her eyes had creases that lifted up the corner of her blue eyes to the tips of her ears. Her dimples were symmetrically located at the points of her smile. Her lips were full and luscious and her face reminded me of fresh tulip fields, gorgeous and beautiful. I could see her car in the driveway, and could tell that Max, Bella, Kaitlyn, Jessie and Tiarnach, some of her best friends were in there already.
?Hey Kian, are you ready to head off?? She questioned in a genuinely inquisitive and passionate manner.
?Yeah?.? I said hesitantly
??t..thank you for inviting me? I stuttered out in a shaking, nerving voice.
?It's no problem at all? she said confidently as she began to walk down the cement steps to the drive way. I followed behind her like a dog on lead, my head down and my hands tightly ahold of each other, desperately looking for some form of comfort. I hopped in the back seat of the car and aside from my fears of embarrassment and judgement I felt a sense of excitement and inspiration to start new in a way with new people. Little did I know that this moment would soon diminish and be replaced by one of the most incredible experiences I had had in my entire life and things got even better from then on. My worry and anxiety had always pulled me back in life but this day, the 28th of March, 2021 was the day that I could overcome the persona that I had been given by my life's circumstances. I was no longer an enigma to the people around me, they could see me now and they wouldn't dare blink for the person I became was someone no one would ever want to lose.
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