Hero In Addict (14)
By abn27
- 239 reads
Throughout my addiction, I encountered a great deal of scenarios and situations that were utterly bizarre even without the drugs factored in. We were driving one day in Aaron's truck, early afternoon, down a desolate rural backroad in Pennsylvania, when I was assaulted by a grown man wielding a knife.
We took a turn onto the road, and now there's a man waving, gesturing in a maniacal fashion to pull over. Aaron's as clueless to this man's intent as I am, but he doesn't want me to get out of the truck because he senses something is off. He's not pulling the truck over to find out what this man is trying to convey, and I'm fine with that until the man's wife appears to be in trouble. They're in a minivan, and they were behind us, until the mystery man sped up and passed us, in a no pass zone. While passing, he is also swerving over into our lane, obviously upset that we're not complying with his wishes. Now his wife appears to be almost throwing her whole body out the window. On this winter day, she has the window completely wound down, and she's folded in half leaning out of it, waving her arms together in an invisible X. It's a 35 mph zone, and they're slowed to an even more reduced speed in which I can make out the expression on her face, and she's scared. She's very scared, and it's evident that whatever wrath this man intended for us, he's now unleashing it on his wife, while she's powerless to stop it. We need to stop it now, I need to stop it. They slam on the breaks, and we're forced to momentarily stop, but Aaron sees I'm not going to just sit here and watch this man beat his wife. I pull the handle of the truck as Aaron yells, "Andrea, NO, STOP", but it's too late and as he reaches to grab me in an attempt to pull me back into the truck, he mistakenly grabs my scarf instead. The scarf is still unraveling from around my neck when I try to run to the woman and verify her well being. I approach the passenger side just as the man is shoving his wife back into the door, trapping her inside.
Hey, buddy, what's going on? His arm is moving quickly towards my face, his fist is in the air, and then white. White. Everything is white for a moment, and now things are coming back into focus. The man is angry, and I hear yelling. I see the road, the green grass, and I hear his wife screaming now.
Hey buddy, what's... Fist, his fist hitting my face for what I don't realize is the second time, but now things are coming more into focus. I realize the blood all over his fist, it's my blood, and it isn't from a single punch, but several. He's unleashing a wrath on me, the one he was previously unleashing on his wife. I am now taking the brunt of this middle aged man's anger as he attempts to punch me for a third time. I didn't know what hit me the first time, nor was I prepared for the second time as I'm stunned from the first sucker punch, but now I am aware. I didn't go down on the first punch, nor the second punch, and instead just stood there stunned like a deer in headlights not realizing what happened. But now, now I know, and before his cocked fist can hit my face for a third time, I twist to the left missing his punch. As I pivot, I come up over his balled up fist that just punched the air, and I hit him with a fist of my own. But, because of the angle, I hit him near the top of his head, and my hand feels immediately broken. By the time either of us can get our bearings from my failure of a punch that essentially hit his skull, Aaron is trying to help, but he's not.
Why the fuck isn't he helping, I'm asking myself? Why is he moving backward? Aaron, what the fuck, what is going on?
Now I see it, red streaming down my face, and the salty taste of the crimson liquid fills my mouth. I'm still confused, and this is all happening so quickly. We've somehow moved to the front of his minivan enough that his wife is no longer trapped inside it, and she and Aaron are trying to diffuse the situation. What situation, I don't know, but I know there's a real fucking situation here because they're using the universal hand gestures for 'calm the fuck down'. You know the one, the 'easy now' hand gestures with their palms out in front of them in a non threatening manner, pretending to push down on some imaginary suitcase slowly and carefully. The man is yelling something at Aaron, and he has been for awhile, but I'm just hearing it now.
You heard me, man! I said, back up! Back the fuck up, man! Back the fuck up, or I will stab this cunt right fucking now!
Oh, FUCK! I can see it now. I can see it all now. He's covered in my blood, and so is my tan puffy coat that he has ahold of gripping in a similar fashion to how Aaron unsuccessfully attempted in order to keep me in the truck, before I moronicly jumped out into this fucking psychopath's trap. Now he is gripping me with his left fist that's covered in my blood from the first two successful punches to my face, and holding the knife in his right. At some point, he spun me around so that we're both facing forward, where he has a tight grip on my jacket and is threatening to stab me with the knife he's wielding, the knife he's waving in the air while he proclaims to both Aaron and his wife, that he's 'going to stab this fucking cunt if they come any closer'. I missed a great deal of this ordeal in the beginning while stunned, but one thing I'm crystal fucking clear on now, is that that cunt he keeps referring to stabbing, that's me. I still have no idea why this man is so angry, but the other thing I'm also crystal fucking clear on is that he is, and angry enough he wants to stab me to death. I know this for certain, because if the knife wasn't enough of a clue, he's continually proclaiming he 'will stab this fucking cunt to death'. Again, that cunt he's referring to, that's me.
It's a large, serrated knife with a black handle that could have been used any other day to prepare dinner in this couple's kitchen. On this particular day, however, this man wants to stab me to death with it. That's what he keeps professing anyway, while he holds me hostage by gripping my tan, and now stained red, puffy coat that he shows no sign of releasing any time soon. He's using me as leverage, while holding me hostage, to hold off Aaron. His wife is trying to reason with him, and I'm not paying attention to much of it as I'm trying to formulate a way out of this whole imminent death by knife situation. What I do catch, however, is the part about his kids.
Jack, Jack, please stop! Jack, the kids are in the van! Please stop, you're going to go to jail! You're not going to see the kids grow up, Jack!
That last part got to him, and enough that he momentarily lowers the knife, but not completely. He lowers it enough that Aaron, who's anxiously waiting for just such an opportunity, reaches out and with one fail swoop grabs hold of my jacket, ripping it and me forcefully toward him. He pulled me from the psychopath's grasp, and now the man is trying to stab Aaron while they spar on this unlucky stranger's lawn. Unbeknownst to us, that stranger occupying the farmhouse beside the road we pulled over onto, the one whose lawn this psychopath is holding Aaron now hostage on, has already called the police.
I wasn't aware of this when I took off for the road, and thought it was an utter miracle that the first vehicle to have stumbled upon us on this rural backroad, was miraculously a police car. It's one of the only times in my life that I'm relieved to see a police car.
The officers can't arrest the man yet as they're not finding the weapon, and it appears the knife is hidden and gone for now. Then the police search his vehicle, and for the first time, I see it. This man has three young children in the backseat of the van. Aaron and I are told to wait in our truck, but we are in full view of the back of the man's van as the police search it. They found the knife finally, and the reason it took so long is that they never anticipated the man would hide it where he did. The man stashed the knife he had been holding me hostage with, inside his young son's baseball bag. They were on the way home from their son's baseball game when the man became enraged after he felt Aaron and I pulled out in front of him in the truck. He held me hostage with a knife, and wanted to kill me, because of fucking road rage.
God bless these poor kids, because these are the exact ripe conditions required to produce a future addict. These are the kind of stories, this is the kind of anger, I grew up with. These are most definitely typical origins of an addict. After all, I should know. God bless these poor kids, because they may turn out like me.
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Comments
What a terrible story : (
What a terrible story : (
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This is such a terrifying and
This is such a terrifying and tragic situation to be in.
I hope those children were okay and not scarred for life.
Jenny.
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