The Wasted Life

The Wasted Life
By Savanna Ewing

It was so cold in that abandoned old warehouse. The chilling winter winds pushed themselves through the many cracks in the walls. Of all places one might be on Christmas Eve this was not one you would want to find you self in. The howling winds beat against the doors and windows. They demanded to be let in; all she could do was pray that the old building would hold up to the winter storm. It was a sad fact that this condemned establishment was her only protection from the harsh weather outside. She held her body in her own arms; she was trying to keep any body heat she had left. Her face was puffy red and cold as ice. Her nose was wet and runny, and her hair course. She looked about thirty five, but she was only twenty four. That’s what living on the streets will do for your looks. She was bone thin, her skin looked like leather. Her appearance would best be described as one of the most pathetic homely women you had ever seen. She was never a raving beauty, but surly she looked better at one point in her life than she did not. A corps looked better than she did right now, road kill had a charm she did not have now. Her finger nails were filthy underneath, and her teeth we the color of lemons. She had spots on her scalp were hair had came loose, therefore she had bald spots. She had guessed her hair had held on as long as it could, and at last let go due to lack of nourishment. Her skin was the color of ivory; she seemed to have no blood running through her veins. Now of course she had to have some blood or else she’d be dead by now. However, she knew her amount of blood was low at best. Her head ached with a pain like a nail being driven into her temple. She told herself sleep was her only retreat from this tortuous world. So she closed her eyes and prayed for sleep to come. And in the deepest deeps of her withering heart, she prayed for this sleep to be her last. What a sad thing to hope for, death to come quietly. She remembered as a child wishing for many things on Christmas Eve, death was never one of them. She allowed her mind to drift backwards in time, to a time when she had a home and family. The year she chose to return to was 1995, she was ten years old. She was living with her mother and father, in Barnstable Massachusetts. She loved her family so dearly, she remembered running down the stairs on Christmas morning to see all of the wonderful presents stacked under the massive tree. She knew most of them were for her, her mother and father always did more than they should have for her. They spoiled her; even though they were not rich they did without for her. She opened them all with hast finding everything dolls, new clothes, board games, jigsaw puzzles and even a puppy one year. It was the best, and her father would have out his huge movie camera, filming every reaction she gave. And her mother sat watching the events; she told her that her gift was watching her family be happy. Her happy memories were cut short had a window busted and the snow and wind filled the building with its icy touch. She broke out into tears because she felt hopeless. She knew by morning she would most likely be dead. Taken into deaths arms by a frozen villain. She tried to return to her past memories, but with no avail, she was back in the present alone and freezing to death. She tried to recall the last thing she ate, it was last Monday. It was a bowl of soup. The soup kitchen on 3d street had opened there doors up for the last time. The new city mayor had said that the tax payers refused to pay taxes for the homeless to bum off of their hard earned dollars. She knew she was not the only street person starving to death tonight, she hoped the tax payers and the mayor was having a nice holiday. The hours pushed on, and she became weaker and weaker. She knew her body would not last much longer, in fact she could not feel most of her body now. The cold had taken away all feeling except for her hands and face. Her eyes were stiff she had not been able to sleep. She looked into the darkness that surrounded her. It was pitch black in the old warehouse. She was happy for that; at least she did not have to look at how bad she looked. She closed her swollen eyes and tried to sleep once more. This time it worked and she was fast asleep, her dreams were of better days. Of days long since gone away to another land. She recalled her childhood friends, and warm summer days. She fantasized about returning in time to those forgotten days of her youth. And in her dreams that’s just what she did; she was no longer freezing to death alone in some God forsaken place. She was with people who loved her, and wanted her to be there. She remembered her mother’s cooking and how on Christmas she always prepared a feast. There was turkey, ham, dressing and pies of every kind. Sweet potatoes were her favorite. What she wouldn’t give for some of her mother’s meal now. Well now she’d even eat Scrap’s kibble. Scrap was their family dog; he was no papered dog just a good old mutt. But he was worth the world to her, growing up Scrap was one of her best friends. She and he had shared many adventures together. And old Uncle Fred always dropped by on Christmas to get some food, and free things. He was a mooch but he was welcomed he always brought whatever he could for her. He did not have any money so his gifts were normally something he had made or found, but that was great she loved personal and old things. And he always told the best dirty jokes, her mother of course wanted to hang him from a noose. But she loved him so; he was her father’s brother. He had been Vietnam in the 60’s, he was a war hero he protected his country with is life. And after the war and his time was up, he was thrown away patted on the head and told to go back to his life. Of course he did not, he had what they called flash backs and his wife Lenore left him. She took the kids, and he was alone. No work place would hire him. He was there for his country, but when he was of no more use his country was not there for him. This was a sad truth for many men from that war, America caused there pain then had no answer. With a loud sound she awoke from her peaceful dreams. She was still alive and back in that damned place. Nothing had changed she was still alone and near death. She thought back on her life, and her choices. There were so many bad ones she had made, they did not out way the good. For instance her choice to do drugs with Sherry and Luanne. Her choice to have sex with Bobby that night. Her choice to start drinking and smoking. One choice after another she doomed herself to a life of emptiness. Her choice to keep having sex with Charles and Donny and Bill. And whoever else she thought she was in love with at the time. It was all her, when she was told she had HIV that was her. When they told her she bad lung cancer that was her. When her family disowned her and told her to never come back that was her to. Every bad thing that had happened was all her fault. Why had she lived so hard and bad in twenty four years? Was this really it a crack addicted HIV woman was going to die alone at age twenty four?