▓▓ Prologue ▓▓ Edward
So, I have to start this thing? Okay. What have I done today? …. I went through my old letters, yes. I did that in the morning. Maybe I should write about that.
I hate going through my old letters, most of them returned to me or never sent. It’s unnerving. They remind me of things I would rather not remember.
(Letter to Franz and Anne)
“Calm down, miss, the test-”
When the drug dealers tell you that after the first three or four shots the heroine needle no longer stings like hell, they lie. The fifth shot hurts as much as the first and no matter whatever they said, the doctor’s reprimand also feels as bad every single time, if not worse. This time, however, my stomach tripped with guilt because you two were right outside the door, arguing I-don’t-know-what with my poor doctor, waving your arms in the air angrily. It isn’t his fault, and you know, he didn’t make me faint in the middle of a class, but you need someone to blame and your unconcious friend in the hospital bed wasn’t a choice.
“The test is wrong, then! I supervise his Prozac dosage; there is no way he had an overdose of that, let alone heroin. Where the fuck would he get heroin, anyway?”
That’s when my mom arrived, right? I just remembered that someone joined your side of the yelling. Another set of arms waving behind the door. They didn’t seem angry, worried maybe. Disappointed that I did something like this. The new voice called me an idiot. I agreed.
I put a pillow over my head so I didn”t have to keep listening. The anesthesia’s was long gone by then and the guilt had moved from my stomach to my head–migraine. My arms felt numb, and so did my legs, like if I had fallen asleep awoke. The screaming stopped, you didn’t want to wake me up.
But if I told you, face to face, why do I drug myself, would you believe me? Would you belive in the demon that hunts me? Would you belive that even as I write this to confess, he watches over my shoulder? That he wraps his arms around me, and like a vampire, sucks the life out of me?
Of course you wouldn’t but it’s all I have got for you, becaus it’s the truth. Heroin is my escape from a demon that may not exist at all. I mean, when I told you about the book, didn’t you laugh? Didn’t you call me creative?
“–After all, the kids are all wrong”
You said that not me, that I wasn’t like other kids, that I was good. This is the proof I am not.
Or maybe I shouldn’t.
