In My Skin: A Memoir of Addiction
Kate Holden
Language: English
Pages: 304
ISBN: 161145798X
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Desperation drove her onto the streets, where she became “Lucy,” offering her body for cash to the first car to stop, risking arrest and, worse, the human predators—anything for her next fix. With her name on the police blotter, she eventually left the streets and offered her services to a high-class brothel. There she discovered hidden strengths, as well as parts of herself that frightened her.
Throughout, however hurt and dismayed, her family never abandoned her, and their acceptance and unyielding love helped her defeat the drug and leave her netherworld behind. In taut, devastating prose, Kate Holden recounts her journey with an emotional honesty and genuineness that will leave no reader untouched.
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when I was out on the streets again and stoned, I saw Boris’s dark car pull up and his sad face look out. I ran over and got in. It was Christmas. I arrived to spend the night with my family, and my mother said, ‘I’ve got a message for you, and we’ll take care of it, and then we don’t have to talk about it anymore.’ She was very tense. ‘The St Kilda police rang. They said you weren’t at the hotel where you said you were, and if you don’t go in tonight there’ll be a warrant for you. They said
beautiful, might be left on the shelf in favour of a scrawny, timid brunette. I loved that—the signs that men were more sophisticated in their attitudes than conventional wisdom suggested. Part of me considered myself one of the less likely contenders. I was good looking enough, but not ideal. I was only just getting the hang of grooming. I didn’t have the most wonderful arse. I cut my legs shaving. My hair was never quite right. And I talked too much. Everyone noted that I was educated; most
of noodles. Dinner had just arrived. We always ate late. ‘And you!’ I said. Her face fell. ‘But I’m starving!’ ‘Just think how good those noodles will be after you’ve sucked his dick for an hour,’ Coral said. Whether she was really relieved not to be booked was hard to tell. For all the rustle of men coming in through the door, as they usually did on a Friday, this night was thin on stayers. Any booking would be good, so long as it wasn’t an actual lunatic. Stuart was a lunatic. When Jessie
made sure they saw my hug. ‘Good. Strict. Much fucking better than old Indigo,’ I said. ‘But watch out for Helen. She doesn’t miss a trick.’ I didn’t think Valentina would have any problems; she was one of the most professional prostitutes I’d ever met. Valentina looked around the room, at the expensively upholstered furniture, the cable television, the brass light fittings. ‘Nice,’ she said. I beamed proudly. For once I’d led the change, instead of following. Valentina would see my success
against the abrasion of constant penetration. My only experience of working ‘straight’ was when I was detoxing, and that was difficult; but in that state I had been over-sensitised. Now I found that working without heroin made little difference. Of course, I was still on methadone, a high dose, even if I didn’t feel stoned. I went on smiling, caressing, getting fucked, talking with the girls, eating my takeaway, working—perhaps gingerly, as my metabolism adjusted and I walked with a sheen of
