Addiction vs. love

Which one of the two is stronger?


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Some people swear that love is the strongest feeling there is, it can make you hate, lose fear, fight people you swear you’d protect or stand by regardless… specially that parent love that comes from mother to child. I swore when my daughter was born I would protect her against anyone and anything.

I wasn’t always a junkie, I was a nurse three years ago. It started with the caffeine pills to keep up with work: the divorce, my daughter Jessica and the lover I eventually met while out with friends downtown, hitting the clubs we were almost too old for. He was the drummer for this alternative rock band at a 21+ club. I wasn’t all that into the music, or even all that into him, the beard and messy hair aren’t really my thing but he smelled nice… and I was lonely as fuck. The sex wasn’t that great, even for the first night it was still pretty average. He  was pretty decent guy, he got my number that night while I was at the bar doing shots with my three, way hotter than me, friends. After that we met up for a few breakfast dates, coffee and running every once in a while. It wasn’t until about a month later I finally gave in at his apartment. Actually it was a cool January evening when I dropped off some soup to help his cold. My Jessica was at her grandma’s. It was the first sex after almost four years of abstinence and I felt I owed it to myself. I knew I wasn’t the only one because there were times I called and his phone was off, he never answered his phone when he was with me and he would stare at other girls when we were together… no shame, he just would and I would act like I didn’t notice. I wasn’t looking for a serious relationship even though I wanted one. I just knew that after my husband left I wasn’t worth it anymore. I had nothing left to give but some pretty odd sense of humor and average cooking. It also didn’t help my self esteem that my husband left me for an older woman, 13 years older to be exact. I was 27 and she had just turned 40. I know I should have been laughing at him somewhere, but how fucked up did I have to be for him to go to someone like that. It happened and the day he left he was gone for good, no visits, no child support, no casual sex with the ex just for shits and giggles… nothing, not a damn thing. Never a call on my Jessica’s birthday, no Christmas present or checking up on either one of us. He just left and took half my joy with him. I stopped hating him after Jessica turned 2. I finally wrapped my head around the fact that he got bored of trying at something he probably never wanted.

Roberto… his name was Roberto, he was Dominican, his skin was soft and his lips were always a bit dry. We tried cocaine the first night after I had a really hectic shift at the ER. He said it would help me relax and if not we could just have some bomb ass sex … it was pretty bomb. I woke up the next day around 6 in the morning naked on his bed with him collapsed on top of me. His mouth was slightly open and there was a small trail of saliva from his mouth to my chest. I had a hard time moving from under him, he was a bit tall and stocky. I checked myself in his bathroom mirror, I looked like hell. Hickeys, bruises, messy hair, worn down eyeliner and mascara, even a few bite marks on my left breast and my hip. That was the first of many nights, I started leaving my Jessica more and more at her grandmother’s house even when I didn’t work nights. I slept and ate less. I took on more over time hours, volunteered to come in and then called in at the last hour saying my daughter or my mother were sick… all to go have some hours with Roberto. I don’t remember how much time after that I tried heroin. We weren’t alone that night and this time when I woke up I knew Roberto hadn’t been the only one I had sex with. I had vague memories of one of his camaradas (the dealer) bending me over on the sofa but I was too high to even move. I stopped seeing him after that. I quit Roberto but I didn’t quit the drugs.

It wasn’t hard after that you know… getting high, having sex just because I could and not even because it felt good. I’m 39 now and I can honestly say I have never had an orgasm. It has never been dreamy, I never missed it, even with my ex-husband. I was always good at pretending, at moaning and screaming and making him feel like a hung horse. My mother caught on to the use, Child Protective Services never came knocking on my door because by some miracle I was able to maintain my job and made sure she was at grandma’s before I went and did anything. Until my mother became tired of seeing me worn out and always leaving her doorstep with scruffy men that sometimes were missing teeth. She gave me an ultimatum, she was always strict so she kept her promise and sold her house, moved away and refused to watch Jessica anymore. She still sent her cards, called her at least once a week until she became too old to want to listen to her grandmother telling her to behave. I let her go out, I let her stay up late, miss school but always with a decent excuse. I loved her to death but I couldn’t get my shit together for her anymore. Perhaps I never did and I was just good at pretending everything was going well. She was an ok kid, she didn’t get into fights at school and didn’t have a boyfriend, she just hung out with the wrong crowd. Even then, she still came home every night and always still kissed and hugged me before she went anywhere. She checked in with me and never ignored my calls when she was out with her friends. I guess we were doing ok, until I met Wesley… I don’t even know his last name.

He actually tried a little harder than the other ones, that should have been a red flag for me but it wasn’t. I thought it was great, someone who shared my addiction, he was a disabled veteran so he couldn’t work but his disability check was enough to help with groceries and maintain our bad habits. I moved from the hospital to a nursing home. Eventually it became too loud in the ER and I didn’t mind dealing with the vomit and diarrhea from the old people there. I had lost my ability to be disgusted because I was already disgusted at my own existence every time I went home with a new man. Wesley insisted on meeting my daughter, he did after three months and eventually he moved in.

He broke us on Easter day, Jessica had just turned 11, she looked a little older for her age. She didn’t get that from me, my boobs missed high school and my hips weren’t pronounced until after I gave birth to her. Her face is cute too, she has dimples, thick chestnut eyebrows and heave eyelashes. Her face is angelic even under all that dark make up she wears now. I adore her but I depend on heroin just to be able to numb the way I love her and how much I hate myself for hurting her.

We had a cook out at the town park, the one that has the huge lake on it with all the trees where people camp out and take their RV’s to. Of course we were getting high in the car. Jessica didn’t invite any friends, it was just the three of us and she had started calling Wesley ‘dad’… per his request. He bought her one of those Pandora bracelets in pink… her favorite color, I took her out to get her first manicure. It was special because we had him in the family and she was so mature now that she just got used to pretending we weren’t getting high in the living room when she was in her bedroom snapchatting friends. It got dark, I took a hit of heroin and laid in the bed of the truck with Wesley for a bit. We didn’t mess around… this was a nice park and there was a random cop driving around. I don’t know how long we were there for that I realized Jessica had gone for a walk and hadn’t been back yet. He said he’d go find her, I got off the truck and started picking up. He took the truck to drive around looking for her, the park was at least 5 miles in diameter. I stayed there, light up a cigarette until the mosquitoes were too much. I searched my back pocket for my phone… shit, I left it in the cup holder of the truck. I started walking around, first towards the restroom, then around the lake… I couldn’t find them or see the truck. People were already either leaving or retrieving inside their RV’s or tents. I started to panic, I don’t know what I thought… maybe a snake bit her, maybe he forgot where were… honestly nothing made sense and I just needed to find her now! I started knocking on the RV’S doors asking if anyone had seen them. Most looked at me in disgust… on my off days I rarely bothered to cover the trails of needles on my arms with long sleeve shirts.

I ran into a cop and described the truck… poorly, and my Jessica. Nothing, no reports of accidents or injuries. It was about an hour until someone requested a welfare check to the apartment… maybe they got tired of looking for me and made it home. They said no one was home. They drove me to the station to file a report.. I’m not sure for what, I didn’t know the license plate to the truck and Jessica wasn’t missing. I didn’t think he’d kidnap her but they talked about perhaps he had enemies… our drug use and then they started talking among themselves and throwing looks of disgust and pity in my direction. No tears came, I just had a hard time breathing and sitting still, I needed a hit just to be able to breathe now. The police station was about 3 miles from home… I got off the chair, pretended to go to the restroom and walked out. I don’t know why I felt the need to pretend, I thought I was in trouble but I wasn’t sure for what.

I made it home, something seemed strange. Not everything but some things were out of order. I walked to our bedroom calling both their names, the closet doors were opened wide and his clothes were gone. I checked the bathroom… his contact stuff was gone but his toothbrush was there. That’s when I saw her walk up behind me. There was blood at the crotch of her pants. Her hair was messy and she had a bite mark to her cheek…a big one.
I felt a cold shiver and then I couldn’t breathe, it was as though someone had punched me in the stomach really fucking hard. I held her and she pressed herself to me gritting her teeth and sobbing hard. I asked for her phone but she didn’t have it. We walked together to the neighbor’s apartment holding each other as I held on to the walls for support. My legs had turned to Jell-O, we knocked on the first neighbor’s door… no one was home. I knocked on at least 3 doors until someone opened, the old widowed man at the end of the hall. I asked to borrow his phone and he said yes after what seemed like forever minutes. He seemed tired, I didn’t even know what time it was. He took one look at Jessica and offered us to come in, we did. He helped me give the police the address. They told me not to let her shower, then they called Child Protective Services. I asked Jessica if she wanted me to call grandma… she said no. She had no one else that could comfort her but me and I already knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

They didn’t take her away and they couldn’t find him. I was with him for about 6 months and didn’t know a damn thing about him. He was a veteran… he didn’t leave any mail behind. I didn’t know what company he served with or where he deployed when the U.S. Marshalls contacted me. He just disappeared and took my Jessica with him. In her place he left another one of me, broken and empty. She didn’t rebel or hate me… she began to comfort me, doing drugs with me and staying in. Eventually I lost my job at the nursing home too. An old man that got a heart attack while I was bathing him and I couldn’t give any straight answers so when the investigation happened I walked out on my own.
I love Jessica more than anything, but I hate how much I love her because if I didn’t love her as much as I did then I’d be able to pull her out of this shit hole. I would have been able to toss out all the needles and stopped looking for dealers to help me cope with the piece of shit that I am. I would have stopped her when I was dazed on the sofa with needle poking between my fingers. I would have slapped her hard across the face and sent her to her room but I knew she was in pain.

He had found her near the lake, smiling and happy at her first birthday celebration in three years. He told her to get in the truck and then he drove her home. He told her I was already at home because I felt sick and she didn’t suspect anything. He raped 3 times until he finally decided to leave. She said he kissed her before he left, he grabbed her breast and when she smacked his hand away he bit her on the cheek and grabbed her crotch one more time. Then he grabbed her by the hair and threw her on her bed. She thought he was going to do it again when he unbuckled his pants but this time she finally cried and told him “please no”.

-That’s when he went to your room and took all his stuff, I stayed on the bed looking up at the ceiling fan until I heard the door close. It was a while until I head it open again, I thought it was him so I went under the bed silently. Then I heard you calling my name.

She said this to the cops, she said to the CPS lady and she said to her grandma in the living room of our apartment while I sat there listening, numb every single time.
Because I knew she was hurting I let her sit with me, I couldn’t stop her. She just put the needle between her fingers like she had just seen me. I heard a small “ow” … a sweet whisper and then she laid and put her head down on the sofa. Her eyes remained open and I didn’t close them even after I heard the ambulance coming down the street. I knew she died… this was the most I could do for her. This was all I could do to help her stop hurting, I didn’t deserve her, since the day she was born  she was too good for me.

They called it child endangerment. You know what my punishment is? I get to be a weekender at the county jail for the next 3 years. For the next 3 years I get to give up my freedom for 48 hours in exchange for the life of my Jessica.



county jail


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He was brought in for criminal mischief, he was a short, slim Hispanic… bald and not an inch over 5’5. He came from Honduras, we knew because he was a repeated offender and was usually coming in for nuisance things… criminal trespassing, shoplifting, unlawful carry of a weapon. He wasn’t your typical intimidating offender, he was just annoying, constantly playing a big hard criminal, the majority of the officers didn’t want to deal with him simply because he was annoying and not as much of a thug as he thought he was. You could picture this guy getting drunk and sizing up someone bigger than he whom he couldn’t fight but fighting him anyway just to prove he’s not a pussy.

Each time he came in to the jail it was the same thing, he refused to answer medical questions, he’d try to struggle out of a regular pat search, he’d spit at someone or try to swing, he’d get pepper sprayed, assisted to the ground and placed in a violent cell in a green smock… completely naked under that. Then the fun came, a good 6-8 hours of him kicking, banging and screaming at the top of his lungs every threat imaginable to any officer within eyesight or hearing range. Eventually he’d get tired and would allow us to book him in, then somewhere in the process he’d get frustrated again and would spit or curse at someone else, he’d get placed in an isolation cell for a good 15 days and then sent into general population to do his time. He never received visits, he never got money deposited to his commissary account, never purchased a calling card… there was pity looking at this guy. Some of the older offenders would sometimes humiliate him and he’d fight them… or at least try, not once did he win a fight and not once did anyone pay his bond to release him early.

His name was Harrison De los Santos… from the saints, and he didn’t speak a single English word other than “fuck you bitch” but his accent was so thick that it didn’t even sound offensive… too much emphasis on the “i” and the “u” in fuck he pronounced like “fo” it sounded more like
fo’ kee yu beetch

This time there was only three of us in booking, when they saw the deputy dragging him in, the sergeant on staff hesitated to override the front sally port so one of us could go assist the deputy in dragging him in.
-here comes this son of a bitch again
-I got it ‘sarge’ .. as I put on my gloves

He wasn’t wearing a shirt and one of his shoes was missing, the deputy had him cuffed behind his back, I placed my hand under his arm and assisted in dragging him inside. He was kicking, hissing and spitting. It wasn’t until the deputy threw him on the pat search room that I noticed his pupils as big as olives. He wasn’t foaming at the mouth but he might as well had been. The hospital had released him because there was no risk of death … he had just been high for days on synthetic marihuana. He was caught running around the streets downtown assaulting random strangers and vandalizing cars. There had been three calls within a 10 minute span of civilians driving down the main road leading downtown that had bricks or rocks thrown at their cars as they were driving down the road. One guy got one of his fingers almost bitten off when De los Santos attempted to take his cigarette away. There were more calls about choked cats and stolen bicycles that were later found a block or two away. The first one came from his mother because he punched a hole through their front window and then ran out of the house without a shirt or shoes. When police showed up at her house she handed them a t-shirt and pair of sneakers, the deputy took it out of pity for the woman. Her son wasn’t right in the head, not because he was born with a deficiency , he simply wasn’t alright. They had attempted to put his shoes on at the time of arrest but he was struggling so much that he ended up kicking one off and hitting one of the officers who ended up pepper spraying him only to find that pepper spray does nothing to an individual that has been high out of his mind for the past 72 hours.

I couldn’t get him to settle down, we initiated ICS (incident command system) which called all rovers available to the section to assist in restraining De los Santos.. goddam the saints. We stripped him and attempted to place the smock on him but it was almost useless. He slithered out of it within seconds of rolling on the ground… those damn things are held on with Velcro. The shift had just started… we had at least 7 more hours of this. We left him inside with the leg restraints on because it was too dangerous to remove them as much as he was kicking, “sarge” made the call to leave him like that.
The policy is that after 45 minutes he has to exercise the limbs, but after 45 minutes he wasn’t calm yet. He was still banging and screaming. The guy had no idea where he was. Eventually the extra staff cleared from the section because they got bored of the screaming and banging. I liked it when we had someone screaming like that, it kept the new book ins on edge and hardly anyone else gave trouble.
De los Santos was not his usual annoying self this time… this time it was different, I thought it was a matter of time before he chewed his tongue off or pulled his penis off… I say it because I saw it once at the state prison. Well he didn’t but after 4 hours his feet were as big as the size of footballs… this is a 5’5 slim Hispanic… that’s pretty big feet. Of course, I’m the new guy who came from working at the big, bad state prison so I’m tasked to go in there and remove the feet restraints. There was shit and urine everywhere on the floor of the cell. There’s a hole in the middle of the floor where they can conduct this business but I doubt this guy realized what was flowing out of him. He was staring outside the cell window into nothingness. “Sarge” started talking to him

-De los Santos we’re about to go in there and remove the feet restraints alright, don’t try nothing or you will get sprayed!’s policy that we must warn them before we deploy the chemical agents
I was thinking the entire time, I’m going to get my ass kicked and my face chewed off in a pool of piss and shit. I’m not the most religious person, simply because I’ve seen the back of God more than I have seen his merciful hand but I do pray, I pray to come home to my son and I pray to be able to make a decent man out of him. I started praying, against the humiliation of being rolled around in offender piss and shit, I prayed against the pain of picturing a chunk of my cheek being bitten off by this Honduran junkie. He didn’t move, sarge overrode the opening of the cell through the radio…

-central override violent cell 1
-…mother fuck it smells like shit

As I kneeled to remove the hand restraints. He didn’t flinch, his breathing was hard and he was sort of rocking from side to side. I removed the restraints slowly trying not to wake him from whatever trance he was on.
The slider closed and as soon as it shut he was on the window like a monkey screaming, hissing and banging. My eyes met his, I could feel the insanity looking right at me and it was though the devil himself was playing games with me, daring me to come closer.
It took 12 days for De los Santos to detox completely. He was never the same after that, he spilled food out of his mouth when he ate and he became a seizure precaution, we had him on 30 minute visuals and he was assigned a bottom bunk every time he came in.
Until someone killed him, he was coming out of the shower and another “96er” ( as we call the mentally unstable), punched him on the side of the head, he slipped and cracked his skull on the shower floor.

His mother never showed up to the prison to claim property.