something when that demented sicko picked me up at the airport? How did it all slip right over my head?
I know the answer.
Itâs obvious. The only way Iâd miss something like that . . . is if I wanted to.
I thought
I
had free will. I thought Iâd broken free from my doom-saturated glue trap of a life and that I was going to change it. I thought I could change my life. What the hell was I thinking? I was never free from anything. I was never escaping anything. The whole time I was just being suckered into Lokiâs plans. Heâd been controlling every move I made.
And my life will always be the exact same. Nothing will ever change. My fate was decided longbefore I had anything to say about it. All Iâm doing is scampering my little feet in my little wheel, mile after mile. And to tell you the truth . . . Iâm tired. Iâm exhausted.
Romeo (of William Shakespeare fame) was fortuneâs fool.
Iâm fortuneâs hamster.
Fortuneâs sucker. Fortuneâs shit-for-brains.
Iâll just be scampering my little feet forever until itâs time for someone to flush me down this airplane toilet, with its beautiful crystal blue water and its reek of human feces and sweet perfume.
Thatâs who I am.
Oh, well. At least Iâm me again.
SAM
I canât even begin to describe what it feels like to be free and clear.
There was a moment there about a month ago when I seriously thought Iâd never be free again. I felt like every day would just be another day in hell. Gaia despised me. Her insane foster mom had lured me into bed one night when I was plastered, and Iâd been paying for it every second since. Of course I had no idea at the time that she was any relation to Gaia. She just picked me up at a bar, and I was too drunk to say no.
Had I known Ella was a fatal attraction psycho who was going to kill my roommate, I probably would have made some adjustments to the beer goggles.
Ella haunted me every single day, bombarding me with phone calls, e-mails, surprise visits. But once Iâd realized just how sick she wasâonce sheâd forcibly injected an overdose of heroininto my roommate Mike Suarezâs arm just to threaten me . . . I knew it was probably only a matter of time before she went ahead and killed me.
Iâd been walking the city streets for weeks, looking just like those vacant-eyed homeless junkies in Alphabet City. White as a sheet. Dark crimson circles under my eyes. The works. I couldnât sleep. I couldnât think. I couldnât do an ounce of work. My 3.85 average was taking a nosedive.
I was running from Ella. I was desperately searching for Gaia, trying to figure out how to tell her the truth, praying she could find it in her heart to forgive me. I felt like one of those lab rats we use for our tests in class, sitting in a cage while they just dosed me with electric shocks over and overâwith nowhere to run.
No, you know what I really felt like?
I felt like Odysseus.
That ultimate of all kick-ass seafaring warriors from Homerâs
Odyssey
.
I mean, Odysseus couldnât catch a break. He was out there in his creaky wooden ship, and everyone and everything was trying to take him down. He had to take on the Cyclops, gigantic multiheaded snake beasts; even the
gods
wanted out of the picture. And the whole time all he really wanted was just to get home to his ultrafine wife, eat a good meal, et cetera.
And that was really all I wanted. All these tortured weeks Ella was stalking me, with Mike dying in a hospital bed and my college career going down the toilet, all Iâd really wanted the whole timeâsince the first day Iâd seen herâwas Gaia. Just to be with her in a quiet moment, and touch her skin, and tell her that I loved her.
And now . . .
I have her. My proverbial ship has come in.
And the worst is over.
Finally. Ella is gone. Mike is gone too, unfortunately, and that still makes me ill. But what I
I know the answer.
Itâs obvious. The only way Iâd miss something like that . . . is if I wanted to.
I thought
I
had free will. I thought Iâd broken free from my doom-saturated glue trap of a life and that I was going to change it. I thought I could change my life. What the hell was I thinking? I was never free from anything. I was never escaping anything. The whole time I was just being suckered into Lokiâs plans. Heâd been controlling every move I made.
And my life will always be the exact same. Nothing will ever change. My fate was decided longbefore I had anything to say about it. All Iâm doing is scampering my little feet in my little wheel, mile after mile. And to tell you the truth . . . Iâm tired. Iâm exhausted.
Romeo (of William Shakespeare fame) was fortuneâs fool.
Iâm fortuneâs hamster.
Fortuneâs sucker. Fortuneâs shit-for-brains.
Iâll just be scampering my little feet forever until itâs time for someone to flush me down this airplane toilet, with its beautiful crystal blue water and its reek of human feces and sweet perfume.
Thatâs who I am.
Oh, well. At least Iâm me again.
SAM
I canât even begin to describe what it feels like to be free and clear.
There was a moment there about a month ago when I seriously thought Iâd never be free again. I felt like every day would just be another day in hell. Gaia despised me. Her insane foster mom had lured me into bed one night when I was plastered, and Iâd been paying for it every second since. Of course I had no idea at the time that she was any relation to Gaia. She just picked me up at a bar, and I was too drunk to say no.
Had I known Ella was a fatal attraction psycho who was going to kill my roommate, I probably would have made some adjustments to the beer goggles.
Ella haunted me every single day, bombarding me with phone calls, e-mails, surprise visits. But once Iâd realized just how sick she wasâonce sheâd forcibly injected an overdose of heroininto my roommate Mike Suarezâs arm just to threaten me . . . I knew it was probably only a matter of time before she went ahead and killed me.
Iâd been walking the city streets for weeks, looking just like those vacant-eyed homeless junkies in Alphabet City. White as a sheet. Dark crimson circles under my eyes. The works. I couldnât sleep. I couldnât think. I couldnât do an ounce of work. My 3.85 average was taking a nosedive.
I was running from Ella. I was desperately searching for Gaia, trying to figure out how to tell her the truth, praying she could find it in her heart to forgive me. I felt like one of those lab rats we use for our tests in class, sitting in a cage while they just dosed me with electric shocks over and overâwith nowhere to run.
No, you know what I really felt like?
I felt like Odysseus.
That ultimate of all kick-ass seafaring warriors from Homerâs
Odyssey
.
I mean, Odysseus couldnât catch a break. He was out there in his creaky wooden ship, and everyone and everything was trying to take him down. He had to take on the Cyclops, gigantic multiheaded snake beasts; even the
gods
wanted out of the picture. And the whole time all he really wanted was just to get home to his ultrafine wife, eat a good meal, et cetera.
And that was really all I wanted. All these tortured weeks Ella was stalking me, with Mike dying in a hospital bed and my college career going down the toilet, all Iâd really wanted the whole timeâsince the first day Iâd seen herâwas Gaia. Just to be with her in a quiet moment, and touch her skin, and tell her that I loved her.
And now . . .
I have her. My proverbial ship has come in.
And the worst is over.
Finally. Ella is gone. Mike is gone too, unfortunately, and that still makes me ill. But what I
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