Here Be Monsters - By M T Murphy Page 0,26
in one of their marble-floored buildings. Here the air clung to you like a stink you couldn’t clean off. It smelled like 70’s shag carpet, old ashtrays and mildew.
I entered room 66F, head down, not looking at anyone, not getting the complimentary stale cookies or even a cup of coffee to take the chill out of my bones. I took a seat and crossed my ankles. My left foot soon started to tap in impatience.
“Good morning everyone,” Mrs. Chamberlain said, her voice calm, but raspy. The room mumbled hellos back to her. “Who would like to go first today?”
Whitney was always the first. She was a chipper little thing, someone I didn’t readily care for, but didn’t exactly hate either. She didn’t belong in this group, but some would say she was just what it needed.
I tuned her out. Her saccharine voice was extra sweet today, but I focused on a spot of dull yellow on the floor.
“Jani?” I lifted my eyes when my name was called, my face still hidden mostly by my hood.
“Yes?”
“Care to share your story with us today?” Mrs. Chamberlain asked. I pulled my hood off and stood , biting at my lower lip and shoving my hands in my pockets.
“Hello, my name is Rajani, I’ve been sober for nine years, eleven months and five days.” The room erupted as everyone said hello to me like they had been programmed to do so. “I was addicted to cocaine and heroin and just about anything else I could get my hands on.” I told the rest of my story while barely looking up from the floor and sat back down, Mrs. Chamberlain thanking me.
Yes, it was rare that someone went to addiction meetings for as long as I did, but it was the program I was on. I complied, and in twenty-five more days, it would all be over.
I didn’t say anything to anyone as the meeting ended, pretending to not hear Mrs. Chamberlain call my name as I left the room. I made it home and out of my clothes, safely tucked back in my bed before the chill started to subside. Life had been this way for almost ten years now. My probation and required rehabilitation was almost over but then it would continue to be much more of the same.
There was a knock at my door a little after four that afternoon. I tied the threadbare robe around me and went to answer it. Leaving the chain in place, I unlocked the dead-bolt and opened the door only a fraction of an inch before it was kicked in. Four uniformed officers were the first through the door and I was forced to the ground just in time to see a man in plain clothes come in behind them. My tiny room was a mess of activity but I didn’t struggle or argue. Instead, I grinned.
“Miss Rajani Eve Aspara, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one can be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?” the plain-clothed man asked. He stood before me, his lips grinning slightly as he held up his badge.
“Yes.”
We rode in a black sedan down to the 67th precinct and I was put into an interrogation room. My handcuffs were removed and I was left alone. I examined everything around me as questions filled my mind. The arresting detective walked in, breaking my train of thought.
“Miss Aspara, can I call you Rajani?” he asked as he sat with my case file and a cup of coffee in hand.
“Jani,” I said.
“You are quite the interesting little woman,” he said, his eyes still scanning the file. He fished out a pack of Marlboros from his pocket and lit one. “Would you like one?”
I shook my head.
“It says here you haven’t been so much as a hiccup on anyone’s radar in almost ten years. Jani, I have to tell you, that is odd, especially with your track record from before.”
I said nothing, trying to see what he would throw at me.
“We see a lot of addicts come through here, criminals and such. They never shape up, and we didn’t think you would either. We found it strangely odd that you would stick to a narrow path with everything and get your life turned around.”
I shrugged.
“Not that we