#my dad and aunt pumped me up so fucking hard because my siblings were all criminals and losers

[wwwyzzerdd420]

Couldn't be me

[goldenonionstan]

      | chapter one

            | the sound of forgetting

summary: after being wrongly accused of the murder of her fiancé, Bella Swan is trying to find stability in her broken life. Until a mysterious brown-haired boy reveals a harrowing secret about the man she loved, and she embarks on a time-bending journey to clear her name…

a/n: hooray harooh harrah i finished chapter one and this baby is ready to go! i can’t communicate to you how pumped i am to explore this world and all the dark fantasy that comes with it! let me know what you think x

October 14th, 2012

It was still dark when I pulled my ancient Chevrolet pick-up into the parking lot of the café, and I settled the beast into an open space next to Dad's favorite oak tree. Killing the engine, I reveled in the heat of the truck's cab, bracing myself for the crisp, Washington air that awaited me outside. Unfortunately, I always drew the short straw when it came to taking the early morning shifts from my siblings – Seth and Leah knew how to get exactly what they wanted from Sue.

"Morning, Dad," I called out as I strode into the café, hitting the switch for the neon OPEN sign that hung on the front door; it awoke with a dull hum. Garish lights reflected off the green gingham tablecloths Charlie had bought the other day from Billy Black – I made a mental note to look for replacements when I got home.

"Morning, sweet pea," He replied from the kitchen, and I could hear bacon already sizzling on the grill.

Dad had been the proud owner of Clearwater's Bites, sharing the responsibility with his wife, Sue, for almost ten years. Nestled into the sleepy heart of Forks, Washington, Charlie had surprised Sue with the café as an engagement present after she told him about her life-long dream of owning a restaurant. In the summer of 2002, he became the head-chef, Sue ran the front-of-house, and waitressing shifts were shared out between me, Seth and Leah. I was happy to see that the place was still standing when I was released from prison.

I doubted anyone else would have wanted to hire a convicted murderer to make small talk with their regulars.

"Expecting it to be busy today?" I inquired, making polite small talk as I rolled napkins neatly around pairs of knives and forks.

"Not too sure, Bells. It is a Sunday so I doubt we'll be rammed, but, then again, I could be wrong. We'll have to see."

Thank goodness, I thought, breathing a sigh of relief into the growing stack of cutlery; at least there wouldn't be so many whispers and stares.

"Sounds good, Dad! I'm sure we'll be able to hold down the fort!"

I enjoyed working shifts with Charlie – neither of us were particularly big talkers, so we worked side-by-side in comfortable silence, nodding at each other as we passed. While he set about preparing for the breakfast shift, I worked at serving the odd customer, giving the place a scrub when we were quiet – my siblings were not as pedantic at cleaning as I was, so I think Charlie and Sue were happy to have me in the shop.

The early birds were my favorite people to serve because, where the café was quiet, I was able to pay close attention to what they ordered. Gladys, along with her Labrador, Skip, came in for her regular one-shot cappuccino with extra chocolate dusting, while an elderly gentleman in a bowler hat ordered a simple tea and sat against the far-window, reading a newspaper. I let my mind conjure a story where the two used to be high-school sweethearts, but were torn apart when Gladys' mother died, and she went to live with her aunt. After seven years with very little to do, I had learned to become reliant on my imagination.

It was around two hours into my shift that a stream of customers began to build, and our small parking lot became crammed with a plethora of vehicles. A buzz of chatter filled the room as people shared stories over cups of steaming liquid, and my heart swelled. When people were paying little attention to me, I felt content to find myself amongst a crowd again.

"Welcome to Clearwater's Bites," I chirped cheerfully, placing two laminated menus before a new table of customers. They were two brawny construction workers, and both wore black t-shirts that clung to their bulging chests, stained with streaks of paint and dust. "What can I get for you today?"

"Aren't you the woman who murdered her fiancé?"

The pen began to shake between my fingers, but I couldn't tell whether it was from anger or the tears that stung my eyes. My prison sentence came to an end a month ago, and, although the accident happened in 2005, my presence in town seemed to stir up old memories. The front page of every national press had covered the story from the moment the coastguard pulled The Victoria to shore, and I had been led off the deck in handcuffs. I would get the occasional inquiry as to whether I was happy to be back in town, or what I planned to do with my time now I had returned to Forks.

It was the direct questions that always threw me off.

"Uhm," I murmured, struggling to get my thoughts straight. "No, I don't think that was me, but I appreciate the inquiry."

"Oh, come on, it's definitely you! Isabella, isn't it?" The weaker of the two men smirked as he leaned back in his chair, taking in the view of my beat-up Levi's from behind. "I would recognize that ass anywhere."

I clicked my tongue against my teeth as I turned away from his gaze and looked around briefly to see if anyone had overheard what he said. No-one seemed to be paying attention to our interaction.

"Would you like some tea with that misogyny, Paul?" His friend remarked from behind his menu, throwing a glare in his direction. Paul sat back up in his chair.

"Would you just fuck off, Jake? I'm only messing with the pretty lady." He turned back to me. "You were definitely the lass I had pinned up in my locker last year."

"That's wonderful. Do you want me to autograph it for you?"

"Ay, Mami, is this that famous temper of yours? Hopefully, there's no sharp objects around."

Paul winked; I seethed.

"It's eight in the morning, for Christ's sake," Paul's tanned friend spat as he handed me his menu. "We'll take two Americanos. Black, no sugar."

"No problem," I replied, plastering my best customer service smile across my face. "Coming right up!"

"You could always leave me your number instead," Paul hollered at me as I shuffled back behind the counter, drowning out my racing thoughts with the noisy whirr of grinding coffee beans.

"Alright, sweetheart?" Charlie poked his head around the entrance to the kitchen, forehead glittering with sweat. He held two plates of eggs in his hands. "Not causing you trouble, are they?"

I punched the double-shot button a little too hard on our clunky coffee machine, watching the black liquid splutter into the awaiting cup. "Nothing I can't handle, Dad."

"Are you sure? I haven't seen them around before, so I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I told them to move along?"

I peeked over at the men again as I waited for their cups to fill. Paul sat texting on a cell-phone, no doubt something about me; his friend…Jake, I think it was, glanced over and smiled. I darted my gaze back to the coffee.

"Honestly, Dad, it's chill," I placed the now-steaming cups of coffee onto two saucers, grabbing a pot of sugar cubes. "Like you said, they're not regulars. Probably won't ever see them again."

Charlie nodded. "Chin up, Princess, don't let-"

"-Your tiara fall," I finished, turning back towards Paul and Jake. "I got it, Dad."

Gingerly returning to their table, I placed a cup in front of each of the men and practically ran back behind the counter before they could make any more remarks. I avoided looking in their direction for the duration of their stay, feeling relaxed as I watched them take the last swigs of their drinks.

Until Jake started walking towards the counter. Feeling my heart in my stomach, I pretended to be writing something on a spare blackboard.

"Hey," He said, standing awkwardly in front of the register. "I just came to bring this back. No sugar, remember?"

He placed the neglected sugar pot in front of me; I shook my head. "Oops, sorry. Just one of those mornings."

"No problem, I get that." He chuckled. "I kept waiting for you to come back to collect it. Seemed like you were avoiding our table…?"

"You're observant," I remarked. "Didn't want your friend to harass me again."

"Yeah, I also came over to say sorry about Paul. He's a bit too forward sometimes."

"Don't worry, I'm used to it." I picked up the sugar pot and wiggled it. "Thanks for bringing this back."

Jake smiled, and we stood there in silence for a moment. His brown eyes bore into mine for longer than I expected, and I looked away, feeling my cheeks heat up.

"Right, I completely forgot to introduce myself, I'm Jake-" He stretched his hand towards me. "Jacob Black. My father owns the furniture shop in town."

"Isabella Swan," I giggled, taking his outstretched hand. "You must know my dad then. Charlie?"

"Probably not, I only just moved into town. I used to live with my Mom."

"Oh, cool, what happened to your Mom, if you don't mind my asking?"

"It's nothing like that, she just got remarried." Jacob looked at the floor. "Moved to Canada."

"Didn't fancy it?"

"Not really; wasn't up for moving sticks, I'd just got my job here."

"Construction, yeah?"

"At Forks High School."

"Nice – I used to go there, definitely could have used a revamp back then."

"Well, luckily we're here now!" We both smiled at each other. "That must mean you know Forks pretty well?"

I crooked an eyebrow at him. "Hmm, it depends why you're asking..."

"I was looking for a tour guide if you were up for it? Need someone to show me the ins and outs, stuff like that."

"Paul's not good enough for that?" Looking behind him, I expected to see his friend leering at us, but I was pleasantly surprised to find an empty table.

"He's not the greatest company."

"That's fair. I'm working the next coupla' nights, but maybe Thursday? I get off at 6."

"Sounds great." Flashing another smile, I realized how perfect his teeth were.

"Perfect – I'll show you the literal two bars in town."

Jacob took a napkin from the stack next to the counter, and pulled a pen from his back pocket, roughly scribbling down a series of numbers before handing it to me. "My number. Call if you need to cancel."

"I'll try not to," I flushed. "See you Thursday."

"Looking forward to it."

My heartbeat did not slow to a regular pace until Jake had safely clambered into his truck, and I watched Paul drive them out of the parking lot. I hadn't been the subject of a man's affection for what seemed like a lifetime. Had it always made me this giddy?

"Hey, Bells," Charlie's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

"What's up, Dad?"

"Would you mind making me up a large pot of tea? I'm just going to say hello to Carlisle over there!"

Nodding eagerly, I set about grabbing our best porcelain pot from the shelf, settling the open-top under the tap of hot water, and switched it on. Charlie always spoke highly of Carlisle, a doctor who worked at the local hospital, and I was always in awe of his wife, Esme, when she accompanied him for a coffee and a croissant. They looked perfect, like models, with porcelain-smooth skin, and matching caramel-colored hair. I felt scrawny and inferior in comparison.

He occupied the corner table, where the elderly gentleman had sat this morning, but his wife was nowhere in sight. Instead, he was joined by a statuesque blonde with legs for days, a Herculean man who looked like he could break my head between one bicep, and a willowy boy with unruly, russet hair. Despite his form being covered by a long-sleeved black roll-beck, I could see his hands were extremely pale. In fact, they all were.

They all looked as though they had never felt a drop of Vitamin D in their lives.

Dad tottered over to their table, shaking Carlisle's hand with a grin. He had it draped on the shoulder of the tall, pale boy when I arrived with the tea.

"Ah, Isabella, perfect timing! This is Rosalie and Emmett, Carlisle's niece and her boyfriend," Charlie said, gesturing at the blonde and her burly man; I nodded politely and they returned the favor. "And this is Edward, Carlisle's son."

Once again, I nodded in the direction of Edward but he only grunted in response, grabbing for the pot of tea, and pouring himself a cup. Compared to Jacob, he had the manners of a toilet brush.

"He's a little shy," Emmett reassured, nudging Edward in the ribs.

"No worries," I blathered. "Enjoy!"

I hurried back to the counter almost as quickly as before, except I was sure no one was trying to stare at my butt this time. I knew Edward did not owe me anything – it had been a pretty awkward introduction from Charlie anyway – but a smile wouldn't have hurt anyone. I glanced back over towards Carlisle's table and caught Edward staring at me, eyebrows furrowed together. Just as Jacob had done earlier, I pulled my lips into a tight smile. He cocked his head to one side, briefly, as though mentally sizing me up. Finally, he smirked back, turning then to engage in passionate conversation with his family of perfect specimens.

I had a feeling, deep within me, that this wasn’t going to be the last time I saw this brown-haired boy.

[yuhb0y]

Hard to believe this post was 3 years ago. My first suicide attempt led me to be institutionalized and it was probably the scariest thing I’ve ever had to go through. I remember waking up in the middle of the night one day and crying harder than I had ever cried, I don’t really remember what it was about this specific day but at some point throughout the thought came into my head that this was finally it.

I wrote a letter to my family and texted the girl I loved a huge apology. This was all going on during the worst drug binge I had ever been on. I took one last shower idk why but I did, I sat down on my couch and really reflected on everything I could for as long as I could but in a moments notice I realized that I didn’t really want to overthink the whole situation so I gathered about 12 or 14 norcos in my hand and just swallowed them whole. I continued to do so til there wasn’t anything left of the 2 bottles I had gotten my hands on. I remember going in for the last handful and feeling some sort of relief.

And just like that I leaned back and could feel my head get lighter and lighter and I as I got higher all I could remember is crying. Even in the moments I had hoped to be my last I felt inadequate. There was no peace, there was no instance where this all made sense to me, I found nothing. This was everything I had allowed to eat away at me taking all control and I just sat there crying because it was the worst realization I had ever made.

Eventually I blacked out and I guess my mother found me with puke coming out my mouth. I was still a bit coherent but everything was so fucking hazy. I don’t really know how my mom did it but she got me into her car and drove me to the hospital where she worked at (and ironically the one I was born at.) It was about 5am and I remember seeing rain fall down on a world that wasn’t quite awake yet out the car window as I came in and out of this horrible state I was in, my mom kept shaking me to stay awake.

When I got to the hospital I was in a drug induced frenzy, I tried to fight staff and police cuz they wanted to strip me (staff even stole my phone charger but I don’t blame them) Eventually I was put into an er room. Too much time had gone by and they said they couldn’t pump my stomach, so I had to wait out the worst high of my life. I spent about 9 hours vomiting, crying with my parents, and slipping in and out of consciousness cuz I was not allowed to fall asleep under any circumstances in case I didn’t wake back up.  This was it, this was my defeat, nothing after this would be the same whether I lived or died, everything would change.  

All I really remember was thinking about my siblings and my late grandmother. My siblings and my parents are everything to me and all I felt was shame. More shame than I’ve ever felt in my life. I had to start training for a new job that week and all I remember thinking is “What do I tell them?” “Does the rest of my family know?” “How do I explain this to anyone?” I was at the lowest I had ever been in my life and I thought no one could understand.  

The whole 9 hours I was in the er I wasn’t allowed water for fear of choking to death. I vomited the entire time and cried more than I had ever in my 19 years of living, I confessed my feelings to my parents and everything I had felt up to that point, I told them I had been depressed since I was a child and how I was hiding this drug problem from them, and they both just kept telling me they loved me and that everything was gonna be ok.  

I really didn’t have a choice when it came to being put in the psych ward, my parents really pushed it and I didn’t really know what to do in this situation. I signed a dotted line and hugged my mom and dad like it was the last time I was gonna see them. I was stripped searched one last time and taken to a room with the clothes I arrived in.  

I remember sleeping most of the time when I first got there. My roommate was a rich kid like two years older than me with a history of drug abuse and destruction of property. His name was Michael and he was there as part of court-sentenced rehabilitation, he had taken abunch of xanax and crashed his rich dads car into a building. He was kinda scary and read the bible all the time in order to “get right with god.” He even stole one of my tshirts by proclaiming to me one morning “This is mine now Eli.” We had planned to stay in contact when I got out but that never happened. Most nights we’d talk til one of us passed out, when you’re put into a setting like that it really changes alot of things, I feel like he knew me better than most people know me now. I hope he’s doing ok where ever he is, I hope he’s better cuz he atleast deserves that.  

I actually made friends in there and they helped me out more than any of the therapy or group activities. Our lunch table consisted of me, this man Mark that was an alcoholic and decorated college professor with 4 kids, grandkids and a girlfriend, he attempted to hang himself from his bedroom window and ended up falling 3 stories and breaking his arm, this was his 6th stay in a mental institution. There was Greg, a theater actor that was down on his luck, he never told me how he tried to do it but that didn’t matter, he had struggled with depression since he was a teenager and by the end of his stay he was really stoked on getting this part in a play. There was another Michael he was also my age, he was in there cuz he almost drank himself to death and received alcohol poisoning, he had been away at college when it happened and his family thought it’d be good for him to check himself in before going to rehab, we talked about death metal and videogames all the time and he was the only one that ever wanted to take walks with me. Finally there was Dave, he was a terminal cancer patient with a degree in architecture, he had two kids and a wife, he slashed his arms with a kitchen knife, he was usually on bed rest but he was the only one that was ever up as early as I was and we were always the first ones up for breakfast, I think I helped him more than he helped me. These men helped me out so much, especially Mark, I couldn’t believe such a smart and experienced person could feel the way I did, he was the first person that really taught me about coping with depression and he just taught me so much about regular life stuff and I’m forever grateful for that, I had tried to contact him when I was out but could never get a hold of him. I hope he didn’t die, that’s my biggest fear. I hope no one died, I hope they’re all still here. It’s horrible to think like that but it’s hard not to.  

While I was in there I got regular visits from friends and the girl I was in love with, she even made out with me once in there and some staff saw and scolded me but I just thought it was funny. Seeing her was the one thing I looked forward to the most cuz she came everyday and I would literally count down the minutes and hours til she arrived and I couldn’t help but get super stoked everytime, I was really in love. Visits helped me alot since I had no means of contact with the outside world. I remember writing letters to my mom and dad and said girl. I would draw alot and write alot and I even read some books which I never do. One thing I couldn’t do was listen to music and that was probably the most annoying thing ever. I watched movies everyday too with my roommate and we even started a “movie time” in the wreck room, I remember watching A Bronx Tale one day and 2 ladies were really offended cuz they swore alot, we didn’t care though.  

I was in there for about 8 or 9 days until I was discharged on short notice. My aunt Maggie had lost her fight with diabetes and had passed away while I was in there. She was the only one that ever came to my shows and she was my mom’s best friend, she was a wonderful person and I loved her alot, it just made my situation worse losing her. The hospital let me out early so I could attend her funeral. I was diagnosed with dysthymia and prescribed anti-depressants and handed a 2,000 dollar medical bill and sent on my way.  

It was all surreal, the day i got out my mom picked me up and we headed home to pack since we were headed to Wisconsin to bury my aunt on her tribes’ reservation, I brought my girl too. We were off to Wisconsin, here I was not even 12 hours out and on my way to send off my beloved aunt, I didn’t know how to feel, everyting was happening so fast. The funeral actually wasn’t sad, of course my family and i cried but it was a very beautiful native american ceremony. There was dancing and a huge bonfire and a feast and we told stories about Maggie, it lasted 2 days, there was a ton of my family and none of them knew what I had just been through so i had to just pretend like I was ok, but either way it wouldn’t really be appropriate to talk about that shit there. The only person that knew was my uncle who’s wife we were burying, I remember him hugging me and telling me he loved me and I just held him and told him I loved him too, I felt like a jackass cuz he already had enough going on. We burried my aunt next to her mother one morning and I put a rose on her casket. Death is a very real thing and I had been face to face with it and this whole experience was insane.  

We stayed the whole weekend on this beautiful reservation and I remember just being with my girl and feeling lucky to be alive. It was like some straight up movie shit, I remember one night I was just hanging out with her in front of this lake and just kissing her and it was dark and we were in the middle of all this scenery and the whole time the weather was gloomy since it was fall and it was cold but I didn’t care I just kissed her and told her I loved her, it was intense.  

When I was back home I got back into the groove of things and began to live life again cuz I didn’t really wanna think about all I had been through for a bit. I remember talking to friends and family members about it, some conversations were more sincere than others. When you almost die everyone loves you.  

Depression is a very serious thing. It doesn’t take a break, it can take over anyone, your mother, your girlfriend, your boss, your teacher, no one is really in the clear. Depression is a monster that eats away at alot of us and some of us don’t make it out in one piece. If you ever feel like you’re going through something, please don’t do it alone, even if you feel like you are, you’re not. It took a drug overdose for me to realize that and it shouldn’t have been that way. Feeling like shit about yourself is completely normal, we’re literally the most complex organisms on this planet with even more complex feelings and ideas, it’s perfectly alright to feel down sometimes, it’s completely natural. I’m just saying you should never feel like you need to hide the way you’re feeling and you should never be scared of reaching out to someone, we all have people that care about us and if they’re all real, they’ll definitely understand. Don’t wait until it’s too late like I did. Don’t wake up one morning after bottling everything up and make a decision you can’t take back. Don’t break your mother’s heart. Don’t let this take you. You are more than this and you deserve more, you owe it to yourself. Love yourself and let the love of others guide you down this dark path, it’s the only way.  

Three years have gone by. Three years. I still struggle everyday with these thoughts in my head and some days are harder than others. Sometimes I feel like giving up and making everything go away. Three years have gone by and I don’t do drugs anymore, I’ve had my moments of weakness but I never went back to that shit. Three years have gone by and the friends I had back then are still here, and I love them with all my heart. Three years have gone by and some friends have parted ways with me but I love them too. Three years have gone by and the girl I wrote those letters to burned them all. Three years have gone by and I attempted suicide again. Three years have gone by, I’ve made some progress and had some setbacks. Three years have gone by and I’ve fucked up alot of things in my life. Three years have gone by and I’ve hurt some people and have been hurt myself. Three years have gone by and I’ve done some cool shit. Three years have gone by and music has always been there for me. Three years have gone by and my relationship with my parents is better. Three years have gone by and alot has changed. Three years have gone by and I’m happy I’m still here.  Three years have gone by and I hope if you’re reading this and you struggle with something similar I want you to know that it’s not gonna get better right away, this horrible feeling will probably never leave you but goddamnit you are strong and you are amazing and life is amazing and there’s so much of it you gotta see. And when it’s all said and done you will be more than this.  

Always remember that I’ll always love you and I’ll always be here for you even in the darkest times. Maybe you’ll feel different when the sun rises.

[ggungabyfish]

The Mexican Elderberry Incident

But there’s one incident in my life where I learned the hard way. The very hard way.

—-

Near our house on Holmes Street, our next door neighbor, Mr. Keller, had a beautiful, flowering tree that went over the fence.And they had these tiny little blue berries. 

My mind at the time equaled them with the actual blueberries, of which I liked. And I suppose I figured to myself that these berries were just like them.

One late evening, when we had come back from an excursion, I briefly snuck away to where the branches of the tree hung over the fence.

In the darkening light, I could just make out the little forms of the berries. They hung there standing out from the bright green hue of the leaves. 

Eat us, they seemed to say, eat us. I wondered vaguely if this was what Alice felt.

I reached up, took a berry, and popped it into my mouth.

It tasted sweet, but it had a bitter after taste. That really didn’t seem to bother me, as I recall eating one more.

Once I finished, I quickly ran back to the house. I felt…well, I guess I felt proud of myself that I had done this.

I was going to rue the next few hours.

The fun started when the three of us–Chris, Alyssa, and me–went into the garage with our dad to get something. As I stood next to our car, I suddenly felt really dizzy; everything was starting to go in and out of focus. I thought to myself 'I think I better go inside to the house’.

I turned to leave the garage and (to this day I’m still not sure how) my balance decided to say “Haha, fuck you!” And I banged my head right on the car door. It hurt later, but I didn’t really feel it.

“Are you okay?” Dad asked, having heard the loud noise.

“…no,” I whined, all of a sudden feeling sick to my stomach. The room began to tilt, and it wasn’t fun.

“Okay, I think we should all go back in the house now.” There was a trace of panic in his voice, for then at that particular moment I started babbling.

We went inside–I’m surprised that I even made it inside–and I remember Dad saying to Mom, who was sitting on the couch “Ann, Gabriella hit her head on the car door. She might have a concussion.”

“I don’t know, it doesn’t look like it.” She said.

It was at the moment that the most vivid memory of the incident happened. The whole room began to twirl, almost like one of those toys you spin to see a moving image.

I grabbed my mom and yelled at her to make the room stop spinning. I hung for dear life, even as she dialed the doctor with one hand. Once she got the okay to bring me to the emergency room, she then dialed Aunt Pat (at the time we lived ten minutes away from her house on McCombs) to come and  watch Chris and Alyssa.

I vaguely remember getting dressed in a nightgown, and then getting into our father’s car (Mom’s was in the garage); seeing the Franklin Mountains as we drove there. But I was kind of hallucinating throughout all of it. Think of the tunnel in Willy Wonka, but actually being in real life.

When we got there, they dressed me in a hospital gown, and put me in an emergency room bay. The doctor came up and asked my parents what was up as the nurse took my blood pressure (I was flexing my arm and telling her I had muscles like Hercules, oy vey).

Then he asked me “Gabriella, did you eat something you weren’t supposed to eat?”

Uh-oh. I’d gotten in trouble before for doing this (the aforementioned penny), so I didn’t want to get in trouble.

But by then I was feeling really terrible and I wanted it to stop (especially the spinning). I wanted to go home and see my siblings, I wanted to see Aunt Pat, and more importantly, I wanted to sleep in my own bed. I figured that if I told the doctor what I ate, the quicker I could feel better and go home.

“I ate some berries,” I confessed.

“Okay, what kind of berries?”

“From Mr. Keller’s yard.”

Immediately they got him on the line, and he told the doctor that this tree in his yard was a Mexican elderberry.

Mom told me when I was older that one thing she remembered from this was the doctor on the phone with the Poison Control Center trying to tell them what I’d ingested. He said, and I quote, “It’s like the American elderberry, but Mexican!”

Finally they found a solution to cure me of my hallucinations, and that was to pump liquid charcoal into my stomach so as to absorb the toxins. Hopefully it would cause my stomach to signal my brain that I needed to expell the poison (layman’s terms: make me throw up).

I was told I had to swallow as much of it as I could; it felt like I swallowed the remnants of a barbecue grill, and it tasted even worse. I gripped Mom’s hand really tight as I gulped down more and more of the awful sludge. God, it was one of the absolute worse experiences in my life.

Once we’d finished with the charcoal, we waited. And waited.

And then by the mercy of God, I threw up. That was good, because my body was now working to rid itself of the toxins. The doctor now told Mom and Dad that I was in the clear, and I could go home and rest. Fine with me, let’s go.

When we got home, Dad carried me in. Aunt Pat walked up to me and asked how I felt. I answered her by promptly upchucking the rest of the charcoal onto her and onto the floor. She’s never let me live it down since.

I passed out in my bed and slept like a rock. I must have been really tired because the minute my head hit the pillow I was out like a light.

—–

Did I learn my lesson? Yeah, I would say I did. I never did anything like that again. I learned that there were consequences to my actions, and sometimes they were horrible consequences.

And I never ate food I wasn’t supposed to again.

But for some reason now, I kind of like the taste of burnt food.

Go figure.

—-

P.s. I found out much later that the Mexican elderberry was used by Native Americans as a drug for religious ceremonies. 

So…could this have counted as a religious, out-of-body experience?