Another page from the journal of a teenage girl, homeless, struggling to survive on the streets. ~ Tony was pissed off, I was so afraid I couldn’t speak! Then he shouted in my face, “where is my coke!” and he shoved me a lot harder up against the cold cement wall behind me.
At that moment, everything went darker, like the light had faded from all around me, my head thumped with pain, and my vision went fuzzy. I had to speak before he totally freaked out on me, so I blurted out, “it’s still in your van!”.
Tony made me repeat what I said, and I did. Then I told him I was so paranoid, I had stuck the bag of coke in the back, side panel, of the van.
I don’t know why, but thats when Tony pulled out a gun!
He shoved the hand-gun into the my side, pushing the barrel of it hard enough against me that it hurt. I was so scared, fear made me say a lot of things I shouldn’t have like, “if you don’t believe me, I’ll go with you to get it”. What a stupid thing to say!
Tony liked that idea, and so he told me I was going to go with him to the impound yard, where the van was still parked.
He put the gun into the side pocket of this leather jacket, grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out onto Yonge Street with him. While we walked he kept saying under his breath, “you better hope its there or you’ll be sorry”
I was thinking the same thing, what if the cops searched the van? what if the cops found the coke already? what if they use it for a set-up somewhere by the drug squad? Tony must know that’s a possibility? He can’t think I’m lying then.
My mistake was ever saying I’d hold the stuff for him when he got taken in for that warrant. Tony doesn’t know me so why should he believe me? He’s probably been ripped off before, most coke heads will do anything for it.
I was in deep trouble now, I wanted to run but then I’d look guilty for sure!
I looked at the bulge of the gun in his side pocket, and wondered if he’d shot anyone before. I had never known anyone who carried a weapon before and it made me realize who I was dealing with was serious. He wanted that coke and he was willing to shoot me if I didn’t get it back for him.
It took an hour to walk to the impound, and as I stood there looking at the chain link fence topped with barb wire, I began to panic. Tony grabbed my arm and said “ladies first.”
The impound yard was full of cars, pick-up trucks and vans. The yard had light poles surrounding it but one of the lights had either burned out or was smashed out on purpose. I began to climb up the fence and Tony stood right below me watching me.
There was no way I was going to get out of this one, so I prayed, please let the coke be in his van, please!
Copyright © 2009 The Lost Journal
Written by: Sandra Lynn
Any pictures displayed herein, courtesy of Google Images
Filed under: Diary, Journal, Women, Writing, humanity, random, society | Tagged: addictions, alone, cocaine, fear, handguns, street-life, teens, violence, weapons
