I Must Confess

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Stacey

My hungry eyes through greedy covetize,

Still to behold the object of their pain,

With no contentment can themselves suffice,

But having pine and having not complain.

For lacking it they cannot life sustain,

And having it they gaze on it the more,

In their amazement like Narcissus vain,

Whose eyes him starved: so plenty makes me poor.

Yet are mine eyes so fillèd with the store

Of that fair sight, that nothing else they brook,

But loathe the things which they did like before,

And can no more endure on them to look.

All this world’s glory seemeth vain to me,

And all their shows but shadows, saving she.

-Edmund Spenser.

~ ~ ~

Stacey melancholically stared out of the window of her hotel room. The view was impeccable but she was in no state of mind to admire it. She thought back to her stint in jail and her mood darkened. How many years of her life had she lost doing time? A scowl graced her face, making her frown lines grow deeper.

“Samantha,” she murmured, “that DAMN SAMANTHA!”

When Stacey kidnapped Samantha’s younger cousin, she got careless. She was so focused on one goal and one goal only that she threw caution to the wind. Had she been in a sounder state of mind, she might’ve gotten away scot-free. She would’ve been alerted that the police were closing in and she could’ve escaped.

“But no,” she said crossly, “No. I wanted an answer and finding Sam’s location was all that I was occupied with.”

The time in jail did give Stacey time to think, and think she did. Thoughts of Sam’s blood spilling all over a tiled floor was all that dominated her mind. Samantha had literally ruined her life. She had hit rock bottom and it only went downward from there. Stacey knew that Samantha was protected and that getting anywhere near her person was next to impossible.

“Perks of being rich, I suppose,” Stacey grumbled.

Samantha was a brat. She thought that her actions could bear no consequences, and look what a rude awakening she got when her uncle and aunt got killed. Samantha knew of the delicate state of mind Stacey was in. She knew how Stacey spent most of her teenage years having to use anti-depressants. She knew Stacey could easily relapse after having been off her anti-depressants for just over a year. Did Sam care about that? The answer was simple: no.

After Samantha had told everyone about Stacey’s sexuality, she was treated like a social pariah. She hated the small-mindedness of people. How did her sexuality affect the lives of these people that much that they felt the need to constantly tell her what they thought? On top of that Samantha told everyone how Stacey’s mother hated her as well.

Telling everyone that Stacey was homosexual was something that she could deal with. When Samantha mentioned the second part, Stacey felt the colour drain from her face. She knew in that moment that she was staring at a monster so much worse than herself. How does one lend an empathetic ear and then tell everyone such a deep secret with not a modicum of regret in her eyes?

Shock and anger could not describe the feelings rushing through Stacey. She literally felt herself falling apart. She knew her therapist would only prescribe her anti-depressants again but Stacey did not want to go down that avenue again.

Stacey found herself on the wrong side of town that very evening. She entered the dimly lit building and her ears were instantly assaulted by the ridiculously loud music. She meandered around all of the sweaty bodies in the shady club she found herself in until she reached the very back. She plucked a blunt from a guy passed out on a two-seater and sat right next to him. She took a long drag before slowly exhaling.

She looked down at the blunt in her hand and grew angry. She needed something stronger! As if sensing her inner turmoil, a sleazy man with sweat dotting his upper lip sidled up to her side. He produced a packet containing a white substance and smiled when he saw interest flaring in Stacey’s eyes. He took the blunt from Stacey’s hand, threw it on the floor and stepped on it. He then proceeded to pull the table between all the sofa’s closer to the one Stacey was sitting on. He placed the bag on the table and began his magic. Stacey was in a trance as she watched the man. She glanced at the guy passed out beside her and vaguely wondered what exactly she had just smoked. She already felt a bit lightheaded.

The man in front of her produced a blunt with the substance he had in his packet and smiled when he saw her eyes already misted over, “Here. Take this and you will feel so much better. Trust me.”

He guided the blunt to Stacey’s lips and she slowly parted them so that the blunt could rest between her lips. She took a deep drag and then slowly exhaled. Not even five minutes had passed and she already felt so much happier. She grinned sloppily at the man who was now seated on the table in front of her. He grinned back at her with yellow-stained teeth.

Stacey came back to the same club almost every night, and every night she found the same man there. Every night he would offer her the same drug and every night he would watch her with a calculating eye.

A month had passed when he asked Stacey, “How would you feel about having unlimited access to this sort of thing?” He then proceeded to wave the packet in Stacey’s face.

Stacey’s pupils dilated, “Unlimited access?”

“Yes,” the man said, “I’ve told the boss about you and he’s very interested in recruiting you.”

“Recruiting me? For what?” Stacey asked with squinted eyes.

“You’ll find out tomorrow. Meet me at this address around midnight.”

Stacey blinked as the man handed her a page with the address written on it.

“Oh and don’t be late,” the man then grinned, “the boss hates tardiness.”


©Crimson B

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