FanStory.com - DUEL with the DEVIL - Chapter 11by Jim Wile

Recap of Chapter 10: When his junior year of high school starts up again, Brian resumes his bootleg paper writing business, and his grades begin to suffer as he spends more and more time at it to the exclusion of his own homework.

He continues to buy Oxy, but as his tolerance of the drug increases, he requires stronger and stronger doses to achieve the same results. This makes him forgetful, and he begins neglecting to care for his cat, Chloe. When neither he nor Fran have seen Chloe for a few days, Brian eventually finds her dead behind the closed door in the attic, where she used to frequent. Fran smells the smell of a dead animal and comes up to investigate. Brian is unable to come up with a lie to explain how it happened under his watch, and Fran is very suspicious of his behavior lately. After burying the cat, Brian is so distraught that he crushes a pill, snorts it, and soon passes out.

Chapter 11

I thought I vaguely heard Fran’s voice saying, “Wake up, Brian.” Then I felt a sharp pain in my chest. It felt like she was digging her knuckles into my sternum. I was suddenly aware of a stinging in my throat and a terrible taste. I began coughing hard, and Fran sat me up to make this easier. I was in agony as my whole body got into the act of removing the foul-tasting vomit from my lungs, where it never should have been.

“Help is on the way, but for right now, I’m going to spray this in your nose, Brian. This will help you.”

It was Naloxone. Being a police officer, she was familiar with drug overdose symptoms and always carried a couple doses of Naloxone with her while on the job. She apparently had some at home as well.

Naloxone, which is also known by the brand name Narcan, reverses the effects of an opioid overdose, which is what happened to me, although I’m not sure how Fran knew what it was. Crushing and snorting Oxy produces an immediate high because it allows it to enter the bloodstream much faster than the slow-release tablets it comes in. Crushing it into a fine powder to inject or snort destroys this slow-release capability, making it immediately available in concentrated form. Consequently, it’s much easier to OD on it.

By the time the paramedics arrived, there wasn’t much left for them to do except take my vitals and listen to my heart and lungs. Fran had done all the right things for someone in the throes of an opioid overdose.

Sometimes it can be a lifesaver having a police officer for a big sister, for indeed, that’s what she had done—saved me from drowning in my own vomit. Apparently, I had regurgitated in my sleep and aspirated some of it. The subsequent sound of choking is what drew Fran to my room.

The paramedics considered whether to take me to the hospital to be monitored overnight, but Fran talked them out of it, saying she would stay with me and make sure I was okay. They checked me over a final time before they were satisfied and left after about an hour.

When it was just the two of us, she said, “Brian, you’ve got some explaining to do, but let’s leave it until the morning. I’m going to stay with you in your room tonight to keep an eye on you. Why don’t you try to get some sleep now?”

“Okay. How did you know what to do? What told you it was an overdose?”

“I’ve seen enough overdoses to recognize the signs, especially the way you’ve been acting lately. The white powder around your nose was also a giveaway.”

“Well, thanks for saving me tonight. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. It’s just… “ But I didn’t know how to finish the sentence. I didn’t know what it was just, and I knew I was going to need help figuring it out.

I had a fitful night’s sleep and woke up several times. A couple of times, I saw Fran sitting at my desk, reading a book. We didn’t talk; I just went to the bathroom, came back, and crawled into bed again.

Once, when I woke up around 4:00 AM, I saw Fran with her head on her arms, asleep at my desk. I tried not to wake her. God, she was staying here the whole night. What did I do to deserve a sister like that?

I knew what to expect from her in the morning, and I decided right then not to lie to her or fight her. Whatever she was going to say would undoubtedly be true, and it wouldn’t do any good to argue with her or try to convince her she was wrong. I would just admit the truth about my addiction and take her advice on how to proceed. I was going to need her help with this.

I don’t know if I ever really got to sleep again. I seemed to be in a dreamlike yet wakeful state in which my thoughts were a jumble of images. I replayed that time at the car wash when I tried to put down Josh Bennett and impress Sandi. I thought about that stupid accident as I left Don Robbins’s house after acting like a macho jerk. I remembered how Fran had been then, graciously not trying to make me feel any worse than I already felt and would continue to feel for the foreseeable future. And then I thought about poor Chloe and how my neglect had caused her death.

These were the things that haunted me as I attempted to fall back to sleep. After a while, I gave up trying and got up. It was 6:00 AM. Fran was already down in the basement doing her exercise routine. Physically, I wasn’t up for joining her today, but I went down there anyway.

“Hey, Fran. I think I’ll sit this one out today.”

“Of course you will. Maybe tomorrow too. We’ll play it by ear. I’m almost done here. Over breakfast, we can talk.”

“Okay. I’ll make breakfast this morning while you shower.”

“It’s a deal.”

When Fran came down for breakfast, she was wearing her deputy’s everyday class B uniform. It looked good on her, and she had a commanding presence.

I had cooked up some bacon and made pancakes for us using Aunt Jemima’s Pancake Mix. I was a decent cook, and I knew not to stir the batter too much, or the pancakes wouldn’t rise properly. The less you stir it, the fluffier the pancakes will be.

She thanked me for breakfast and remained at the table while I cleared the dishes. I came back and sat down. We just stared at each other for a few seconds before she said, “Speak.”

Then I just told her everything—about the pain I’d been in, about my bootleg paper business to earn money, how eager I was to accept pills for payment one time, and how my addiction to Oxy came roaring back after taking them. I told her about the continuous need for more and how it wasn’t just the pain relief but the high from it that I liked so much. I broke down when I got to the part with Chloe and how I’d essentially forgotten about her feeding and care; in fact, I didn’t think about her at all, which led to the tragedy last night and the overdose. I was so choked up, I could hardly finish.

Through it all, Fran just listened as I spilled my guts. She kept her face neutral, so I couldn’t read how all these revelations were affecting her.

I finally quit talking, and when she decided I had nothing more to add, she said, “Brian, you’re an enigma. Here I was loaded for bear, prepared to challenge any lie you might tell. I was going to fight to get the truth out of you, and you just straight-out confessed everything. What am I going to do with you?”

“I need help, Fran.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious—more than I can give you, it would seem. What were you thinking? Rehab perhaps?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“There are a number of good ones in Winston-Salem. I’ll ask around at the Sheriff’s Office for a recommendation. I’m also going to make an appointment for you with the spine doctor. There have got to be some better options to deal with the pain than Oxy addiction.”

“Ya think? Listen, I’ll do whatever you recommend. I don’t know how I could get through this without your help. Thanks for not reading me the riot act.”

“Thanks for being honest with me. You’re a good kid, Brian. You’ve made a lot of mistakes, but you’re still a good kid at heart, and you seem to have a self-awareness that many kids in your situation don’t. Perhaps I should have seen the signs sooner, but I’m too close to the situation, and maybe I didn’t want to accept that you might be dependent on Oxy again. Addiction is a disease. It doesn’t let you off the hook, and you can’t blame all your problems on that, but it’s something that you can fight if you put the effort into it. You’re a smart kid, and you’ve got a lot of potential, but you can’t let yourself get sidetracked by your addiction. At some point, you’ve just got to say, ‘Enough!’ and dedicate yourself to fighting it. You can do it, and I’ll help you with whatever it takes.”

I got up from the table then, and she did too. I came around and gave her a hug, and she hugged me back. It’s the first time in ages I can remember hugging her, and we held each other for a long moment.

When we finally split apart, she said, “I’m going to call into work and tell them I’ll be staying home with you today, and then I’ll call your school and tell them you won’t be there today or tomorrow. Then I want you to hand over all your pills. I’ll give you one pill later today. I don’t want you going cold turkey; you’re going to have to taper off, but we’ll let the doctor at the rehab direct that. They’re going to remain locked in my gun safe. You can have one a day until you get into rehab, but I’m going to dole them out. Capische?”

“Got it.” We went up to my room together, and I dug out my pills from their hiding place inside my desk and handed them to Fran.

“I know you had a rough night, Brian. Try to get some sleep today. I’ll see you later,” and she went into her room to call the school.