INTELLIGENCE FROM DIRT
[Christopher Michael Wentworth]
(12/31/1981)
“Boy what’re you doing,” asked Chris’s mother. She was leaning on his bedroom door frame struggling to hold her inebriated body up. His eyes rose from his book noticing his mother was struggling to keep her eyes open. Over the years he had watched his mother go from bad to worse. Her golden blonde hair resembled something like moldy noodles. He turned his eyes in disgust as his mother’s recent activities were confirmed. However her recent activities were about to go from disgusting to rancid, “Nothing mom you wouldn’t understand.” His mother gave a sleepy and soft “what’s, what’s that supposed to mean?” “Nothing mom just go back to your crack pipe,” she gave another gulp as vomit began to enter her mouth. She swallowed and replied, “I haven’t been smoking crack, how could you say…” “Your lips are white.” Chris turned the page of his book, “you got an appointment coming up soon don’t you?” “Speaking of which, I need to talk to you about that Chris.” He turned the page and laughed, “It’s not like you’re asking me to leave.” “No, but this customer is going to pay me two whole months rent if I do something for him.” Completely uninterested Chris gave a cold, “well I’m sorry mom I’m afraid I can’t help you suck dick.”
His sarcasm and superior tone had gone too far, “how DARE you talk like that to me, I’m your mother!” “And such a great one at that” he said trying not to laugh. His sadistic smile was too much for his cracked up mother. She stormed towards him grabbing the small lamp off his desk. She raised it high and sent it down onto her son. He tried to wrestle it out of her hands, but when the stand collided with his forehead his hands released. He fell backwards as his mother was now seething in anger “just because you sit around all day, and read everything in sight doesn’t give you the right to talk to me like that! All I ever see you doing is reading, reading, reading, and reading! Why don’t you do something to help this family instead of mooching off it!” “I’m only nine and you won’t let me attend school! There’s no cable and no phone, so what else am I supposed to do around here? You smoke up, shoot up, or pop pills with all that money at least dad…” “At least dad what,” she snarled.
The doorbell rang and his mother dropped the lamp. She straightened up her tube top and removed the crack off her lips. She glared down at her son, “your father is an alcoholic heroin junky! I’m the one that keeps a roof over our head and food in your belly.” “He is...” “Whatever Chris, like I was saying I need you to come in here and watch this time” she snapped. “I’m not doing that!” “You will Christopher Michael Wentworth! This guy has some fetish and he is paying triple if you watch this time. You, you, you can sit there and read you just need to be in the room, ok?” She began to walk through the door. “Mom can I at least go to school,” “I’ll sign you up and take you if I’m feeling good tomorrow.”
Rubbing the small gash on his forehead, he knew the answer already. He knew if he wanted to go back to school he would have to go himself. His mother left asking “So what’re you reading,” he stared down at his torn book. “The Neurocognitive Development in Humans…when’s dad coming home?” “You worry too much for an eight years old.” “I’m nine now mom,” the doorbell rang again, “really?” “He nodded, “yeah my birthday was two months ago.” Blood dripped down his nose as his mother’s eyes began to cross again, “did you have a great birthday?” “You certainly did,” she gave him a confused look as he wiped the blood away “you took ten clients that day.” “Oh yeah,” watching her move down the hallway she stood in front of the door. She opened it with a, “hello daddy Conrad you here to give your little girl a ride?” A short and stocky man walked through dressed in a suit that looked just as tired as his face did. His voice seemed tired as well, “yes is everything ok?” His mother purred, “Oh yes Conny daddy, he is ready for a show…Chris, get your butt over here!”
(10/23/2005)
Chains could be heard rattling in the distance as Chris began to awaken. The memories of his past were silenced as he heard his cell door open with a slam. “Christopher Michael Wentworth,” came a booming voice from behind him. Curling up in his scratchy prison issued blanket he said, “lights out boss.” Footsteps began to move closer as they reached over and grabbed him, “what the hell…” They began to flip him over as handcuffs were being withdrawn, “God damn you pigs, I was sleeping!” The handcuffs were slapped on his wrist as he began to feel another set on his ankles. “What are you doing?” They raised him up and slammed him against the concrete walls. “I was sleeping bacon bits,” the guard began to slam his baby face into the wall. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty rest, how was the dream?” Although his brain was beginning to turn into mashed potatoes he gave a sarcastic “better than this shit hole!” The guard leaned into him “better than the shit hole you’re going!” “What do you...” his words were unfinished as the guards dragged him out of his cell. He had forgotten how bright the lights were after spending twenty three hours a day locked in a cell. “Where are you taking me,” yelled Chris as a blind fold was put over his eyes. “You can’t do this,” but after something was put over his mouth his screams were silenced.
They dragged him out of the ward, out of the building, and into the prison loading docks. A white armored truck was parked with several correctional officers armed with shotguns and bullet proof vests. They sneered as Chris was thrown into the back of the truck. They locked him in a small cage as two guards occupied his motorized prison. A voice could be heard “take him to the airport.” A softer voice asked “what about the paperwork?” The first voice began to laugh “the warden is taking care of all that.” The van began to pull away as Chris lay on the ground, the defi nition of helpless. He wished he could at least know where he was going.
(12/02/1986)
When Chris became fourteen he took the state tests and was enrolled in Lake County High School. He was determined to make sure that he stayed there. Surpassing his classmates was easy in the beginning. He remembered how quickly his skills were recognized. His teachers continued to praise his intelligence and recommended him for many AP classes. He became the top student in the school. However his life had taken a turn for the worse one evening.
After returning home from a long day at school, he opened his apartment door to blood curdling screaming and yelling. His mother and father were fighting as usual, however this argument would be different. “You son of a bitch don’t put your hands on me!” A shattered glass pipe lay on the floor as he saw his mother with chalk white lips and wild eyes. Her skinny figure reminded him of the skeletal pictures he saw in the science books he read. His father had a greasy complexion. Heroin would do that to you, or so he had noticed. The love he had for his father when he was younger quickly vanished into mutual hatred towards both his parents. It was easy to see where he got most of his looks. “Oh well if it isn’t our son Chris, the boy who thinks he is better than everybody,” “hello to you too dad...and mom.” His father wobbled on the spot as he seemed to rub his head, “so how is the little prodigy? Where have you been it’s almost nine o’clock?”
“I was at the library,” “the library,” shouted his mother in disbelief. “Quiet you bitch,” he yelled raising his hand high into the air. She watched it trembling slightly, “what’re you always reading and studying for boy?” He shrugged “what else is there to do you guys shoot or smoke up all the money. Now can you keep it down please I have to finish my homework.” “Well I’m sorry your selfish majesty…I’m sorry that we can’t provide you with that Beverly Hill’s lifestyle.” Knowing that he could be stuck arguing with his parents all night he decided to end this quickly, “well its not like you provide us with any other option dad. After all mom has to whore herself out to different clients for food and rent every morning,” “WHAT,” yelled his father turning to his mother who exclaimed “well it ain’t like we have any money for anything! How did you think I was paying the bills?” Chris gave a satisfied smile and with the added, “oh and by the way mom is also fucking the landlord,” he knew that he would be alone the entire evening. His father almost fumbled on the spot as Chris turned to his room. His smile widened as his mother began to plead, “No baby, it’s just for rent and food! There’s no love in it! Chris is just a boy a stupid thirteen year old boy!” “Actually, I am fourteen now mom.” However his father’s retaliation was unheard and as he lay on his bed to complete his homework he heard his father yell “I’ll kill you, you stupid…”
(12/03/1986)
That was the last time I had seen my mother alive. My father killed her all the while he completed his homework. The next morning he found his father crying over the corpse of his dead wife. “Oh my baby, I am so sorry! I was just trying to find work…please, I forgive you.” It was almost pathetic to see my father crying over his hooker of a wife. He stared up at me as I entered the room. I noticed syringes all over the dirty floor. “You,” he said as his eyes looked menacingly at me. “No,” I shook my head and pointed to him, “you, not me…you!” Unconcerned I moved to the kitchen, “I have to leave for school.” I knew my father was enraged that I showed no remorse, “she was your mother boy! Now what’re we going to do about this?” I smiled as I searched the empty refrigerator for something to drink before leaving for school. “I think you mean Chris what am I going to do about this?”
He advanced towards me with rage in his eyes. Deciding to grab a semi-filled syringe from off of the counter I replied, “Maybe you didn’t hear, but I have to get to school. We all don’t want to be a strung out heroin addict, who kills their junkie wife for humping everything that moves.” I pulled the syringe end back as I heard him say, “I do what I do to get my money you little shit! You’re…you’re a monster…you should never have been born!” I closed the refrigerator door and said “whatever, I have to get to school.” His father had frozen “tell me something Chris, what’s your excuse for leaving early for school and coming home late in the evening?” I turned to face him with a look of utter confusion. “I know more than you think boy! Oh yes…more than you think. I know your secret and it appears that the apple hasn’t fallen so far from the tree!”
“Who are you to judge me? I’m still going to school and when I get a scholarship. I’ll be gone to college…gone from this shit of a life. You can lay here and rot with your dead junkie wife. I know more about you both than your pathetic excuse for a mind could even comprehend.” Standing in his ratty clothes and mud in his scraggily brown beard, “I’m going to kill you too Chris and leave you here…to rot! No remorse for your dead mother! The boy that plays everyone like pawns, life is one giant chess game for you isn’t it?” “NO REMORSE…NO REMORSE…I have no remorse for what dad? A whore of mother that is too drugged up to know the difference between a client and her screaming son! Sooner or later dad you are going to realize that everybody is a player, whether they like it or not! It’s just a matter of who moves first. Come on dad you were in the army didn’t they teach you that? Now if you’ll EXCUSE me I have to go turn in a history paper.” His father stood there as his skin seemed to be melting off of his body, “you’re a liar…LIAR!”
I stared back at my father who had murder in his now tear soaked face. “You’re not going to school today boy! You have got to help me with this or at least help me get rid of the body.” I shook my head, “I don’t care what you do with her it’s your bed and you lie in it…call it your repentance. I know it’s a big word, so you’re going to have look it up in the dictionary...if you haven’t used it yet to make a fire.” My father reached out for me, “you’re a monster!” I clenched the syringe as he never saw it coming. His hands reached for my throat and I jabbed the syringe right into his neck. I watched his eyes widen as I pushed the syringe end down. I sent a concoction of air and heroin into his neck. I watched my skeletal father withdraw the syringe as he stared at it, “What…what was that about?” He threw it down on the floor, “I guess you’re not as smart as all those teachers are saying.” He began to move closer to me, “no dad actually I am a lot smarter than you think.” My father gave a disbelieving smile as he began to approach me again. However, he stopped and the smile soon faded. H gulped a little as he said, “I have always wanted to… always wanted to...” He began to clench his heart in pure agony. I smiled watching my father seizure on the floor and slowly die in front of me. His fingers clenched around my jeans as I smiled the entire time. It was the first and last time that I was ever late to school again.
(Present)
As I lay on the floor I felt the guards staring down at me. I was handcuffed and being transported like a captured hog to the slaughter. I wish I could just know where I was being transferred too. My cell had become a real home to me and Dead Man Inc. was my only family. Now my brothers-in-arms would not know where I was. Where did my life take a turn for the worst? I had broken my promise the day the foster care system took me in. I swore that day that I would make something of myself. To continue to take the shots that I was never given.
My education promise was my downfall and the very reason why I was imprisoned in the first place. I was selfish. Yes, my father had been right about that. However, there was nothing wrong with being selfish. Nobody ever cared about me, so why should I care about them? I remembered it like it was yesterday. I played it over so many times in my head for the past fourteen years. My sentence was increased due to my list of crimes committed for my DMI family, and most of them beginning with “Conspiracy to Commit…” My mind dwelled on all those sleepless nights that I had spent staring into study guides cramming for all those tests. I had the highest GPA in the entire school, well at least I thought I did until the valedictorian was named. I was rubbing my hands on my legs in anticipation. Our principal reminded us that this year’s valedictorian would be getting a full four year scholarship to Mount Cooks College. I knew that if I ever wanted a chance to be able to go to college without acquiring a massive debt this was it. The principal stood at the podium as I could hear the almost predictable drum roll beginning. “The scholarship goes to this year’s valedictorian…Miss Sarah Norris,” I almost felt my heart pop when I saw my dreams explode in my face. “That bitch,” I yelled as the whole gymnasium erupted in applause. My comment was lost in the crowd.
But I got her back, I swore that I would and the punishment for my revenge, an eternity in prison. It wasn’t my fault that she hung herself the day of graduation. I just implanted the idea into a troubled girl. Everyone has a weakness and when I played that I always got what I wanted. When she died, I was next in line for the scholarship. The only thing was that my plan ended up backfiring in my face. It was at that time I realized that everything needed to be thought out. If a person was to survive in this world they must always stay one step ahead of everyone else.
(05/14/1991)
I remember walking down the empty hallway a week after I had lost my dream. It was late after school with the sun now starting to set in the sky. The school was empty except for a few remaining die hard students. Me on the other hand I really had no place to go. I really only had two options. Option one was either study for finals, while my foster parents were getting drunk in the next room. Option two was to stay at school, pop some pills and achieve the goals that I had set out to accomplish. I found Sarah in the library staring out the window. I stood in the door frame watching her. I knew what I wanted and words were the most powerful weapon the world had ever seen. The pen would always be mightier than the sword. I had always been good with my words. I smelled her weakness and fed on her shallowness. Exploitation of the weak was the key to power, and I wanted what was due to me. “Hey Sarah,” she turned to me her red hair curled in the humidity of the room. Her thick black glasses were as thick as coke bottles. She had a frail body that I would have liked to just throw out the window. It would have probably shattered the moment of impact.
“Hey Chris,” she replied weakly staring out into the setting sun. I could sense more pain in her voice than even I originally realized. This would prove to be easier than I had expected. I believed she was smarter than she appeared. But with her weak voice she would be like putty in my hand. “What’re you still doing here Sarah graduation is coming…worried about your finals?” She shook her head, “no, I was already told that even if I got C’s on all of them that I would still get the scholarship.” “Yeah well we’ll see about that remember I’m only .02 away from you.” She began to shake her head. “As long as I get passing grades, it doesn’t matter my GPA will still be higher and the scholarships will stand…no matter what happens.” I felt my fingers beginning to dig into my hand. I had to bit my lip to keep from letting my whole plan fall apart. “Well what happens if you don’t get your usual grades?” I actually saw a weak smile form on her face, “what do you mean IF I don’t get the usual grades?”
I shrugged starting to stare out the window, “I don’t know that just seems like a lot of pressure for anybody, even me…remember I tested way higher in that IQ test we took. So yeah, what if you don’t get your usual grades?” A blank stare crossed her face, “that…that…um….is not possible.” “Well I mean anything is possible right? What if the tests are harder than they appear or what if they test you on some last minute detail. You don’t know how these tests are made, do you?” “They gave out study guides,” I gave a fake little sigh, “Those are just guides, I mean there could be other stuff on the tests, which probably means there will be. You know these classes, these are AP classes not those average classes those other idiots take. We are the best so they give us the best. Hell, I’m so nervous I couldn’t even go home.” She shook her head, “no the tests aren’t what’s bothering me.” Understanding my overestimation I knew she would not fall for my simple approach. I would have to dig deep to achieve the goal I desired more than anything.
“I am just wondering if it is enough Chris,” I paused dwelling on the question. I had to ask “is what enough?” A smirk crossed her face one more time, “valedictorian, is being valedictorian of our class enough?” “Enough for what,” she turned back to the window staring out it, “for Harvard.” I began to laugh to myself, “Before you got the scholarship you got into Stanford, isn’t that good enough? In fact, you don’t even need the scholarship for Mount Cooks.” She gave a soft, “I know I plan on transferring after two years. What I mean is will it be enough to get me into Harvard later?” “That’s what you’re worried about?” She lowered her head “I know it’s stupid, but I deserve the best don’t I?” Once again, I tried to hide my anger. However, my mind was screaming, “This stupid bitch doesn’t even want or will use the complete scholarship!” In what seemed like forced calm I asked, “at least you can afford to go to Stanford if you want. The scholarship is all I have… or had. Sorry it’s just these finals mean a lot to me. I guess that’s why I’m here right? So why do you think that you deserve Harvard?” “Well I beat you didn’t I,” I scoffed “not yet you haven’t.” She smiled wide as she wagged her finger, “that’s what I like about you Chris…not a quitter, even when the game is over you still want to fight! Chance and hope are your weapons.” She lowered her head more, “I…I never told you this but I didn’t think that anybody in this school could give me a run for my money.” I didn’t know what to say I froze a little not expecting this, “but I guess the better person won right Chris?”
I stood and stared out the window too, “We’ll just have to see… have you prepared your speech?” She shook her head, “no, studying has kept me pretty busy.” I nodded, “good…it’s actually good that you won I definitely couldn’t do it.” I saw her eyes widen “but it’s all you ever talked about…all the arguments we’ve had about it. Actually, I’m surprised that you are taking it this well.” The sun was still setting in the sky illuminating the school grounds. I knew I would soon need to start heading home if I wanted a place to sleep in that rat’s nest the foster system called a house. “Well I don’t think that I could even get up there and speak in front of all those people…all those eyes staring at you.” Her eyes widened a little as I continued on “I mean everyone is going to be sitting there and watching you. Every eye on you…judging you… waiting for the moment you make a mistake or to make fun of your looks.” I watched her slightly choke, “jud…judging you?” I gave a soft ’yeah I mean essentially everybody is going to be there talking about you. The slightest imperfections will be noticed.” “Im…imperfections,” I had to turn from her to keep from smiling. The truth was I knew her secret from her best friend, Nicole. I had hooked up with Nicole at a little mixer a fellow classmate of ours was throwing. I hoped I wouldn’t have to dig that deep though. “Yeah I mean even down to your gown, make up, weight…whatever!” “Weight…you’re just saying that right?” “No,” I replied turning back to her, “like my mother always said ‘the weight of girl is measured by the whole of the world’.”
“What does that even mean Chris?” I shrugged, “I guess it means that a girl’s weight is constantly being judged by the world.” However, deep down I knew that is not what the saying meant. It just seemed to fit. I saw her turn her head back to the window. I could see that I was starting to get to her. “I mean if you think about it everyone is constantly judging you…not even just at the ceremony when you really think about it.” Her head drooped a little, “and even when you go off to college, you got to worry about the freshmen fifteen and making friends. My god that has got to be a mind scramble.” “Yeah but all of this stuff is based on what if’s though,” I felt my mind wander a little thinking over my response. “What...Harvard, no I don’t know about that, but everybody judging you,” I nodded my head “that unfortunately is true. I mean think about it Sarah when we walk down the aisle people are going to go, ‘oh look at Chris he’s got fat ankles’!” My sarcastic voice didn’t lighten the situation but I continued “oh look at Sarah she has got a fat ass and thighs.” “I have a fat ass and thighs,” she yelled. I pretended to jump a little “no I was just saying that people say some really mean stuff that isn’t necessarily true.” “Necessarily true,” she began to stare around her body. I had her on the ropes her self-consciousness turned to a slight panic. “No,” I said as I walked over and grabbed her bony arm, “Sarah relax you are perfect everyone has imperfections.”
She grabbed my arm back, “what are my imperfections?” I bit my lip to keep from smiling. This was going too well. Her nails dug into my arm, “no you can tell me Chris! You’re the smartest person I have ever met…you notice everything!” Her face looked panicked “Sarah listen calm down! I’m sure everything will be fine. You should go home and study. After all, you still got me to deal with…and you know me one wrong move and I’m all over it!” She nodded as I clapped her on the shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow good luck.” She didn’t respond as I began to walk away and as I turned the corner of the door I decided to study at home.
(Present)
Things turned out better than I had expected. Sarah ended up committing suicide the night of finals, but in the end my dreams were in vain. My scholarship was rescinded before the judge’s hammer fell telling the whole world, “guilty on all counts!” If that stupid bitch hadn’t written that suicide note about how I got to her. Words were a powerful weapon sealing my present and future. The vision of my trial faded as the armored truck came to a stop. The double doors opened as they dragged me out of it. I saw a small private plane as one of the guards yelled “get him onto the plane! Hurry he is on a schedule and can’t be late!” I stared back at the two guards as they shuffled me onto the plane. I struggled with every step but the guards dragged me into it. All my struggling and resistance was done in vain, wherever I was going I would have no control over it. I’d just have to sit back and play my cards right.