13

            I had wicked thoughts.  Ugly fantasies running through my head.  I thought every girl hated me and every boy wanted to have sex with me.

            We got to his apartment complex and I needed help walking up those stairs to his apartment.  Imagine, this medium build guy carrying a girl that looked like she had just been saved from a Jewish Death Camp, well that was me.  Spent, emaciated, limp, weak, crazy.  It’s funny how we can look back on our past lives and poke fun of it.  If I can’t do that, then I can’t take any criticism on my part.

            Sometime near the morning, I felt hands over my body.  At first I thought it was Ross trying to get a feel.  I knew I could push him away and not worry about a thing.  Shit I was tired.  I pushed the hands away.  Then I felt them again. “Fuck Ross, I’m not in the mood,” I moaned through my teeth.  I felt hands all over my body.  My thighs, my arms, my breasts, my face, my ears, my feet.  I don’t know if it was groping or rubbing, but I got fed up.  I finally opened my eyes to a surprise.

            There I was laying in bed, on my back, and there were two aliens, one holding my legs down and the other on my right side, inserting a needle in my arm.  It wasn’t a hypodermic needle, but rather a large syringe and I don’t know if they were inserting or drawing up liquid.  I, of course, began to fidget in bed and I began to cry out for  Ross, but no words were coming out.  There were many moans once again that I expressed in that horror room.

I still don’t know if I dreamt this situation or if it actually happened.  Why would my uncle be there, even when he was dead.  And aliens, why would they be there.  Why had I always dreamed of them.  Ever since I was a kid, I remember seeing these beings around me.  What is they want?  With me?  Do I have something special? Am I special?  I don’t know the answers to these life’s mysteries.  Sometimes I wonder about all these experiences of mine and I am confused about what to think.  What did I do to deserve this?  How is it my fault?  You know, it’s better to get high sometimes.  To deal with these questions, these problems, these worries, well, a shot was the best solution.