Girl Seduced (The Girl Interrupted Trilogy Book #1) (13 page)

Paraphernalia?  Like what?  Did my father really envision in his head his only daughter with a needle in her arm or some sort of weird pipe or something sitting around high with a bunch of losers?  Wait…I am now one of those losers…of course that’s what he was thinking.

“No dad, I was sniffing it in my nose.”  He continued writing.

“Why was there so much in your apartment?”

“So much?  It was just a little bag…”

“Jasmine, that little bag almost constitutes enough to exceed personal use, which would qualify you as a dealer as well.  That would mean guaranteed jail time for at least five years.”

Oh my God.  This is really happening.  This is really happening.  This is really happening.

“Dad, I just bought it from Kenny two days ago.  I usually buy it from him once a week and I had just taken some the night before and the night of the accident.   I had a really big final to do and I just needed the energy to get through it.  No, I don’t sell drugs, dad.”

“Kenny?  Kenny who?  What is his full name?”

Here we go.  Not only am I a drug user, but I’m fixing to be a snitch as well. 

“Dad, what happens if I don’t tell them his name?  Can’t I just say that I didn’t know him?”

“If you want to be a liar you could.  Or, they could consider that you were making it yourself since they also found cold medicine in your bathroom, which contains the chemical pseudoephedrine in it, which is used to make meth…so your charge would be include manufacturing of the drug as well as using and probably distribution.  If you choose that route, you might as well pack your bags right now.  They have infirmaries in jail.”

“God dad, is this for real?  Are you just really mad at me?”  My voice started to squeak and I could barely talk, but I really needed him to be straight with me.  He had never lied before – why would he start now?

“Jasmine, this is as real as anything in your life that has ever happened.  This is so real that not only am I going to have to explain why I’m defending my drug addict daughter to the law firm and I may be let go, but your mother will probably end up in therapy.  And, that’s even if you don’t do a day in jail.  Yes, Jasmine this is real.”

I had no choice.  What I had done was now affecting everyone around me.  They would probably go after Sabrina next and God only knows what all she had in her system.  And with her sharing my dorm, she would be held accountable as well.  Dad was reading my mind.

“Is Sabrina in on this?  Has she been using this too?”

“No dad.  She only told me the name of the guy who gets it for me.  She doesn’t use it all.”

“So?”  He stared at me, waiting for his name.  “Who is this
pillar of society who you are protecting and who has made thousands of my dollars keeping you high?”

“His name is Kenny.  I don’t know his last name, but I could find out.  Sabrina is the one who found him, so I could ask her.”

“Oh, don’t worry.  She’s going to be called in for questioning as well.”
              “Why?  She didn’t do anything?  I’m the one who did this, dad, why does she have to go to the police about this?”

“Jasmine, she shares a room with you.  There’s no way in hell that she didn’t know about it.  And especially if she recommended your dealer, she’s an accomplice.  She could face charges herself.”

“Oh my God!  Dad, for real, you can’t do anything about this?”

“No, Jasmine, you already have.”  Baseball bat right in the face.  WHAM.

“So, why did you have cold medicine in your apartment?” 

“Because I have a cold, dad.”

“Fine – I need to get the doctors to run some tests on the lining of your nose, your stomach, and also verify any cold symptoms – that will all be in your favor.  It will also work in your favor that you are cooperating.  We will arrange for a private rehabilitation setting close to us that is private and…”

“Dad – when will I have to go?”

“Jasmine, we don’t know yet if the judge is going to allow you to go.  Rehab is going to be like the Hotel Hilton if you get off that lucky.  Not to mention the public service…I’m sure at least 1,000 hours of community service…”

“I already volunteer at the nursing home – will that count?”

“Jasmine, this is serious.  I really don’t think you understand.  No, helping out the elderly in an air-conditioned nursing home is not going to count.”

“Probably, you will end up either cleaning public restrooms or perhaps picking up litter from the side of the road…and that brings up another issue.  How do you plan to pay for your probation officer?  I will need to be able to show proof that you will be able to pay your officer.”

“Officer?  Probation officer?  Pay them for what?  I mean, how much does that cost dad?  I don’t have any money – I’m in college.”  Doe-eyed and still completely naïve to the gravity of what was happening, my dad chimed in once again.

“Great.  That’s another several hundred dollars a month I’ll be shelling out for you because of this.”  He took his glasses off and rubbed his forehead and then his eyes and then looked at me after putting his things down.

“Jasmine, for god’s sake, what could you possibly have been thinking about doing something so dangerous?  Did it never occur to you what would happened if you got caught?  Were you thinking at all?”

“Daddy…I don’t guess I was thinking.”  I started crying again.  “I know there isn’t anything to say to make this go away.  But, after I got attacked last fall, I haven’t been the same in my mind, you know?”  I really sat up as much as I could and started talking to him.  “I can’t think about anything but that night, what could have happened, what did happen, how horrible and dirty I feel every minute…”

“And, the only thing that just makes it go away, even if for a little while is the feeling I have when I’m taking this drug.  I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s the truth.  I don’t know what I’m going to do without it.”

He continued looking at me.

“You can’t tell anyone this dad, because they will lock me up forever if they know this.”  I couldn’t believe I was telling him this, but what else could be any worse?

“I’ve been seeing things.”  He sat back in his chair.

“Do
what
?”

“I’ve been hearing voices…seeing little black shadows that run back and forth…even when people are in the room with me…and when I sleep I have nightmares that are disgusting and horrible…and they never stop…”

“Why haven’t you told your doctors any of this?”

“Because they will put me in a psychiatric ward for sure, dad.  I am already facing all of this.  I don’t think I could face that too.  Dad, you can’t mention any of this…I just didn’t know if you might know something about any of this?”

“Yes, Jasmine, I know all about what methamphetamines can do to your brain.”  He was being sarcastic.  He stopped, and just talked.

“More than likely, this is just part of the withdrawal.  I’m sorry, but as your father, the tape recorder has been turned off.  Your doctor is going to have to know about this – meth is a very serious drug and, if your brain has been burnt up and you’re seeing things and hearing voices, then we need to get you serious help.” 

“DAD – no!  You can’t tell them…” But he had already pushed the nurse’s button.

She came back in and looked at me.  “You’re not asleep yet, sweetie?”  She looked at my father with disdain, but he ignored her and said, “We need to see her doctor immediately.”

“Mr. Stanton, we are already doing everything and she is making excellent progress…her doctor will be in see her during rounds this evening.”

“I don’t think you understood me.  I need to see him now or I’ll have him paged.”

The nurse stood her ground and looked at me.  She could see that I was getting visibly upset.

“Sir, you’re upsetting your daughter!  Please calm down and let her rest…”

Dad walked past her and out into the hall.  Within twenty minutes, my doctor was back in my room with another gentleman who I had never met. They asked for my nurse to leave the room.  Dad stood there with them.

“Go ahead, Jasmine.”

The doctor shot a look at dad, but empathetically looked at me.  “Jasmine, you’re seeing things?  What kind of things?” 

I looked at the other doctor and read his coat.  ‘Dr. Simpton, Head of Psychiatry’.  I knew it.  I’m fixing to be locked away somewhere playing bingo
for the rest of my life with people carrying on conversations with the air or picking bugs off of their skin that weren’t there.

“Look this is really not necessary.”  I looked at Dad.  “I told my dad that I’ve been hearing voices, seeing some shadows, having really weird dreams…all symptoms of withdrawal, I’m sure.”

No one said anything.  Finally, Dr. Broughman spoke up.

“Yes, Jasmine, they are probably withdrawal symptoms.  But, they signify that there could be some possible, even minor, brain damage.  We need to do a couple of other tests and would like to start you on one other medication to stop the hallucinations, OK?  Wouldn’t you agree?”

The psychiatrist never spoke but nodded.  He asked my father if I had ever had any ‘episodes’ before.  I answered for him.

“NO!  I’m not crazy- I took a very dangerous drug for several months.”  They all quietly listened.  “I know it was very stupid, and I don’t know what made me stop thinking about right and wrong, but it’s a little late now.  But, yes, this drug has not only ruined my life but I am having withdrawal symptoms and one of them is that my mind is playing tricks on my – just a little.”  I started feeling angry, and even a little aggressive at this point.  GOD, like none of these people had ever done anything really stupid or made a mistake.  I wished I could go digging in a few of their closets, even for an afternoon…

              Dr. Broughman asked what other symptoms had I not mentioned.  “I am feeling an overall just ACHE, for lack of a better word, but I fell out of a three story window, so I would expect that to be par for the course.”  Golf terminology – I was sure they would all understand that, the bunch of smug bastards.

             
“Another withdrawal symptom – only usually it’s extreme pain.  I can increase your pain medication to help with that a little – that would explain why you haven’t been sleeping very well.” 

             
“There is an upside to this, Jasmine.”  Dr. Broughman sat down in the chair next to the bed.  “So far, you’ve been in the hospital for eleven days.  Your withdrawal symptoms are probably past the worst part. When you do get released and go into rehab, your time there will be spent mostly on counseling…”

             
“Counseling?  For what?”  I didn’t need a counselor.  I needed my life turned back about nine months. 

             
The psychiatrist stepped in.  “Counseling for the drug, Ms. Stanton.  Your physical symptoms may have begun to subside, but trust me when I say that there is about a 96% relapse rate for meth users, even after rehab.  The counseling will be ongoing for at least a year.”

             
“A year?  Says who?  Dad?  Are they for real?”

             
“Jasmine, at this point, I would do whatever they tell you to do, young lady.  Your cooperation in this matter is going to be the only salvation you might have in this entire nightmare.  If they tell you to dance a jig, I would probably get up and put on my dancing shoes.”

Chapter
Twenty

The next several days were a blur.  A variety of new doctors and medications became the routine in the hospital.  Regular visits from the police detectives became the norm and when it became common knowledge on the floor of the hospital that I wasn’t a poor victim, but had skydived out of a window because I was high on drugs, the nurses all acted differently and
continued to do their jobs, but weren’t quite as sympathetic.  I was probably paranoid, but I would swear that they were even purposefully being rougher when they gave me shots or performed other procedures on me….

My father made daily visits.  The first time I saw my mother after the visit with my father was probably the hardest conversation of my entire life, but completely the opposite of what I expected.  I truly thought that my mother, with her country club friends and her reputation at stake, would distance herself as much as possible.  The contrary took place.  Mom voiced her concern, her complete disappointment, but then she and I had a private conversation that I will take to my grave.

“First, the night of the attack, I was drugged, mom.  With a drug called methamphetamine.”

“I know all about it, Jazz.”  She wiped her nose. 

“How?  How do you know?” 

“Well, of course, your father has torn this town apart at this point, determined to find out the name of the person who is responsible for this.  He didn’t come out and tell me, but I overheard him in the car talking to the police chief.  He dropped me at the hotel and then went straight to the police station.”