When I got out of Eugenia it was the second quarter of the school year. I was to be sent back to Pottstown. Senior High this time, 9th grade. The paper route was gone and I didn’t think my life of petty thievery would pay the tuition. I spent the school year doing absolutely fuck all of nothing. I was done with school. I just couldn’t be bothered anymore it was too boring. Well I don’t want to say boring but it was like I had bigger fish to fry at the moment. One amazing point was Mr. Kaccando from forth grade. He was back, now in the senior high and I was his first student. He really was an amazing guy. This time it was different though, I was talking to him, most of the time I couldn’t shut up. We met every day at lunch. After some time he asked me what I thought of other people coming in. There was a girl just got out of rehab, few other people showed up. Before you knew it we had a group. Turns out we started something, every school in the area had the same thing either run by a counselor or even students. It helped me, but not my schooling. I failed that year with a fucking vengeance. Fuck that mother fucker and fuck the summer school with it. As I said, bigger fish to fiy.
Home life had a whole new story too, He didn’t lay a finger on me anymore. He never said a word to me. I came home, dropped my books and left. Didn’t come home until my mother did. Months just fell off the calendar. I became a madman. My newfound freedom and the exile of my former self left way more room for Vincent. Probably too much room in retrospect. I remember Dr Kron telling me that nobody, especially people you love ever have a right to lay a hand on you.
You tell them no and if they do you fight with all you have to get the hell away from them. Don’t ever let anyone tell you anything different. From there I lashed out on anybody that even looked at me wrong. School kids labeled me crazy and just stayed the fuck away from me. The few that didn’t were my partners in crime. Mischief, theft, drugs, destruction. It was quite a life.
Summer came and my stepfather took a trip to Baltimore, taking my brother jos. My mother used the opportunity to pack up and leave with me and my brother mic. We moved to an apartment in a complex called amity gardens in Douglassville. I couldn’t believe it, I was out. It was over. It was fucking over. No more beatings, no more rules, no more yelling, no more anything. My mother spent most of her weekends going out and getting ripped and I was importing all my friends for house parties and vandalism around the neighborhood. She even bought us alcohol. We’d play cards and smoke up the house till dawn, If we got sick of being inside we out and trashed the neighborhood. I also made some more dangerous friends in Daniel Boone high.
My best friend was porky, funny name because he was as skinny as rail but hey, I didn’t name him. Pork was a madman so we got along like peas and carrots. We had each other’s backs during fights, we went out and drove everywhere. Parties, girls, it was just insane. Porks dad had a moonshine still we used to skim from to drink or sell. Pot was also around on occasion. My demon was being fed in vast quantities, but he wasn’t there to protect me anymore, he was there to take vengeance on the world and everyone in it. I used to carry a US 1918 trench knife from world war 2. Only had to pull it once and knuckle some fuck. I was never really a fighter, never had the build for it. What I was, was a finisher. When I came at you, you were not getting back up. By any means necessary, no referee on the street. I went from prey to predator. Still there was some honor in me, I never fucked anyone that didn’t deserve it in some fashion (at least in my head) but I also never minded the collateral damage. My reputation was spreading. I could stare most people out of my way.
I started keeping my infamous list too. People that burned me that were going to pay later. Some I cashed in on, all you really needed was patience, sadism, an imagination and opportunity. Committing an act of vengeance or justice if you want to win is never done head on. You have to plan your moment, lose all emotion. Wait for the right time. Plan it so they will always wonder, or even better never wonder at all. Just smile to yourself, it’s not a statement to the world, just closure for you. If you can manage to keep all of that in check, you can lead a rather sinister existence. Of course you also have to shut down every sense of emotion tied to guilt, regret, and love. You cannot have love, there is no room for it in vengeance. It becomes your undoing, every time.
I used to get rides in to my old hometown by my mother or I would get left at a friends’ house for a weekend. This night, my 15th birthday however was a unique turn of events. I used to party here and there yes. But tonight was major. It was my first birthday without my stepfather, without rules, and spent in my old stomping grounds. This night was going to be something to remember.
We used to hang out this autistic kid, he was like 25 or something but he acted like he was 13 years old. He had his uses, he had a valid ID. Smokes and booze.
He bought me a gallon jug of grape wine mad dog and 3 fifths. The gallon was for my friends Brian and Aaron and my cousin, the fifths were for myself and a couple of lady friends I would be entertaining.
Well there we was on york and chestnut, drunk as fuck. I will have to say the first few sips of that shit were disgusting but the rest of the bottle went down like water. I was having a conversation with the girls the whole time sitting down. Hours passed and one of the parents yelled out the window they were calling the police… Well that was my que to get going to a different location. Brian from what I understand went home and passed out on his porch, Aaron made it home but that is all I know. My cousin was walking home as well, kind of following me I guess. But I had a problem. When I stood up I fell down. Hard. I was too drunk to walk. The girls shouldered me and started walking me down the street fast as they could.
Well, next comes the deer spot, it was a cop. Officer Smoyer. I heard him ask if I was holding the girls up or if the girls were holding me up. He walked up to me and the girls disappeared. He grabbed me and asked to smell my breath. I held my mouth shut and he started screaming at me and slammed me against the wood picket fence behind me. After his face 2 inches from mine with repeated inquiries on smelling my breath, i blew it in his face, probably spit to I don’t exactly remember. Either way what transpired next comes from my cousin as I never knew, I blacked out. But from what he told me I believe this is the first time Vincent was in complete control.
He proceeded to put me up against the fence and handcuff me, I screamed I ain’t going nowhere with you fat mother fucker and I turned around and punched him in the face. I must have stunned him because I was told I was running stumbling and crawling up the street with one handcuff on my arm. He tackled me on the pavement and proceeded to kick the ever loving shit out of me. I was then drug back to the car and thrown over it. At this point Officer Frame showed up and gave me a handcuff adjustment… They put them fuckers right on your wrist bone and its fucking agony. I only know because I came out of it at this point, I had no idea what happened all I can remember is begging them to loosen the cuffs they were to tight and hurting me. They refused and drove me in the station.
In the station I was drug downstairs to the basement office and tossed around a few filing cabinets while he tried to find my ID. I just laughed at him and kept telling him to go fuck himself. All of this was followed by me puking all over his desk, I won’t lie, some of it hit the trash can. A call comes into his desk and its my oldest cousin tar, she’s telling the officer who I am and trying to pick me up. I the dumb ass that I am start screaming at what a fucking bitch she is and how mean she is to my cousin who was hanging out with me earlier that evening. I then just gave up who I was and where to find my mother. I get thrown in the drunk tank by myself and this cell is completely closed in and completely disgusting. I stayed in there for what seemed like years. I then get led out to the ambulance out back where I’m strapped down again and transported to the hospital. My mother was out back and I saw her before I got in the ambulance. I gave her a hug and went.
At the hospital they pulled blood and I was a .25. From what I gather, that’s pretty fucked up. They also discovered I may have diabetes. Tests later would prove that to be true but at this time they figured it could be diet controlled. Fuck my diet, I just pretended I didn’t have it. Denial for a very long time after. So anyway, my mom takes me home and has to break smelling salts under my nose from the hospital to get me awake enough to go up the steps. Boy I was so fucked up the next morning I think I slept for a day or 2. When I came out of it luckily all
I received was a ticket for public intoxication. I was sent before judge dash, which turned out to be quite a break because not only had my father frequented judge dash’s courtroom, he dated his daughter for a time.
Judge took one look at me and said, you even walk like him. Him being my father. He said he would hold the fine and sentencing and stressed that my mother wait for the court to call her with the fine amount. They never called, he buried it. He told me if I ever come back to his courtroom again he’d throw the book at me. I never did. It was time to play things a little smarter. The excess was decadent, but it was killing me. My whole point was to live through this and piss on that cocksuckers gravestone. I would revel that day.
Ah but what happened to the stepfather? Good question. He was convicted for the assault and placed on house arrest. He kept violating the house arrest. I never had to turn a corner and wonder if he was going to be there. He was what I was, a prisoner in his own fucking home. I was free. So much more to see, so much more to do, so much more to destroy. Including more of myself. But still through it all I had a void. A void to fill with love and a family. Love? forget it. The only love and family I ever felt in my life was at my nanny and my grandpop bruces. My father’s parents. Maybe, just maybe that would do it. So long though, would they understand? would they accept me? I had to try. I lived in world of hollow empty promises, my brothers, my mother. Just painful reminders of what happened to me. It all had to go, it all had to be annihilated.
In all I was, the iron in my heart, my newfound alter ego coursing through my body, there was still that little boy screaming don’t fucking hit me anymore inside. Just love me, please. Someone to tell me I wasn’t trash. I would be special to someone, truly. They just had to see it. But then again, at this time in my life, I couldn’t show it either.