"One mans dream not to live the nightmare" -inspired by a true story -this story is fiction

All my life I was told to be mindful of anyone who holds authority.

I have spent my lifetime watching over my shoulder. I am ever mindful that I will never be given a chance to live a simple life. Fear has taken over my life. The only way I can find a moment of peace is to drink and do drugs. I work so hard to stay numb.

I want to be sober. I want my life to have peace. I want to be a strong role model for my son. I have to face what I fear the most. Those people who react to my tall stature, my broad shoulders, and the color of my skin.

I stand before you an addict. I have lost so much of myself to the fear. I am a shell of a man. I don’t know who I am, what I have become, or if I have a future.

You might ask yourself what brings me here today. The judge gave me a choice it was rehab or jail. You might think it was an easy choice. From your perspective, you might think I have taken the easy way out. Come, walk a mile in my shoes and then judge me.

The influences in my life vary from a God fearing grandmother who raised me. To an abusive father who wanted to prepare me for my future experiences. I didn’t understand then as a child. I do understand now as an adult. My mother died when I was seven. No one ever speaks of how she died. To this day I don’t know. Some things are better left alone. Like many teens I scraped by and graduated high school. I worked hard for everything I earned. I played just as hard learning life lessons as I grew into a man.

What brought me before the judge was a momentary lapse of judgment. It was a day of celebration for me. Devon and I had good reason to celebrate. After an eight month layoff at the mill doors were opened and we were back on the job. We should have stayed home. There were so many of our co-workers at Sammy’s Bar. I got caught up in the tide of relief to be back to work and I let my guard down.

We threw back a couple of shots and we toasted with a few beers. We decided to head on home. We hollered our congratulations to the boys from the mill and got into the car. I should have known there was trouble when I saw headlights flash on across the street as we began to leave the bar.

That is when the nightmare began. No further than a mile down the road the car behind us gained speed and shortened the distance between us. I increased speed, at first five miles faster, then ten. Fear built up in me and my skin crawled as though the spirit of fear had possessed me. Soon twenty miles over the speed limit seemed like we were crawling. I couldn’t get the car to go any faster. I looked at Devon his mouth saying something to me, I couldn’t hear. His eyes were wide and pupils dilated.

The lights flashed blue and red. I knew what had happened. There wasn’t anything I could do to make this moment pass. I turned to Devon; I looked into his eyes and said, “Man, I am so sorry.” That was the last thing I said to him. Nothing else could be said.

I couldn’t get my foot to move off the gas peddle. I knew what was going to happen next. I had lived this before. Only this time I was on probation for striking a man who tried to stop me as I attempted to steal cigarettes from the clerk at the Halverson, Seven-Eleven. I knew in my heart I wasn’t going to live through this experience.

Devon pleaded with me to stop the car. My eyes scanned the horizon searching for anywhere that I could stop where it was public and safe. I prayed they would loose interest in their pursuit. Hoping they would turn around. In my mind I hoped these men were those who were just doing their job with honor and dignity. Not the same kind of men who hurt you first and ask questions later.

I stopped the car, no sooner as the dust settled to the ground. Devon disappeared, the bottom of his shoes rose before my eyes. My door flew open as if a tornado tore it off my car. Two hands reached for me and pulled me with the strength of ten men. The beating had begun. I pleaded first, with no response. I raised my hands above my head to clasp them behind my neck. As I tried to get to my feet…there was no movement. Both legs buckled underneath me. My bones were broken and had torn through my skin. I rolled up into a ball, as small as I could make myself. A flash of pepper spray filled the air above me as a foggy mist. The pain stopped and I couldn’t see anymore. Unconsciousness gave comfort as I was praying I would die. “Lord, take me if you have mercy for me. Lord, I want to come home.”

I remember nothing else. Months have passed since then and now I am here in your office talking with you. I am not certain why this life is mine but, I want to live a better life. I hope that you will help and counsel me so I can live free
of my nightmares.

"One mans dream not to live the nightmare."
Copyright © 2008
Alisa Lucas Aka. Max Lucas