Hank has always loved experimenting with new things. When his friend Thomas invites him into the Kuwaiti high school's bathroom stall to try heroin, he somehow knows it will be the mother of all new things. Once Thomas pricks his skin and lets the drug fill his veins, it is like love at first sight for Hank. But that first hit greatly affects his life for some time to come-addiction eats away at his soul. It impacts his personal life and marriage and even threatens his very existence. Hank wonders if there will ever be enough of the drug to fill the void. Facing blood, overdoses, and circumstances of raw fear and the unknown, he has nothing else to lose but the heroin that he craves with every breath; he lives in excruciating pain of separation from the love of it. Hank uses his pain to his advantage and realizes that simplicity, principles, and befriending himself offers far more opportunity than he could have expected.

Divine Innocence

By Hammed Al-Tamimi

Abbott Press

Copyright © 2012 Hammed Al-Tamimi
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4582-0663-3

Chapter One

The First Hit

They are batteries, our souls. No one knows how long they last in each body. Sometimes, when at the end of its life span, we bite the batteries or put them in the freezer for a bit, just to squeeeeeeeeze what little life they have left, and these are just batteries. These souls are put into our bodies to last and endure. We hurt and blame, we sin and feel shame, and we smile and love. I am selfish, as I am in charge of my own fate, but I set blame on life, time, or circumstances. I feed my battery poison, but it still goes on. In the end, or let's say in the beginning, it's our bodies that deteriorate, not the battery. The battery goes on and carries with it all aftertaste of death and hatred and sins.

Mercy and forgiveness start here. And there is a witness to it as well. When feelings and emotions are raw and pure, the beginning is where innocence is at its peak.

* * *

I should start with something magical to get you in the mood of it all, maybe whisk you away into the realm of color and bliss, maybe walk you through a phase where everything around you goes quiet and everyone is frozen. I should explain the sound of heartbeats in freeze mode and open your eyes as you walk into my world.

Unfortunately, my world isn't a beautiful landscape with fresh greenery and light-blue skies; the sun doesn't shine as it would in a peaceful world. It's best I just stop with my attempt at an introduction and simply show you. But first a warning: if you have a weak heart, close your eyes and ears and hope the pillows around you keep you safe from what's deep inside. The elements creep within the confines and staggered structure of our brains.

A nostalgia rises from within the bits and pieces of your remaining soul. A craving so deep that each cell of your body has needs ... the bent spoon, black underneath from the lighter, and the brown leftovers like little grains of dark sand huddling together. You take out the filter of your cigarette butt, slice off just enough cotton, and then put the filter back into the cigarette—it will be the first cigarette you smoke right after.

The heroin is a small hill in the spoon. You pour a little water into it, cook it with your lighter, just enough to hear the water frizz and boil but not so much that it evaporates. You see the brown hill dissolve into the water and become a dark-yellow liquid. When you put your filter into the spoon, you see it suck up most of the liquid. You take your needle and pull it all in. You bend the cotton onto the point of the needle and squish it so that no liquid is left. Suck up every single drop.

I love this part. This is what I anticipate the most: sticking it into my veins, pumping it in, feeling the hot mixture of heroin and water mix into my blood, waiting for it to reach my heart.

Then, there it is. I feel your heart become warm and fluffy. Sinking deeper into your soul, the sweat stops dripping from your forehead, hands stop shivering; your mind goes into a trance, deep into a black hole.

Time stops. Everything gets quiet. You are between the worlds of reality and nothing. All the elements around you vanish. This is the moment I crave.

* * *

Smoldering me with its huge bright arms of heat as we were walking around the neighborhoods, shining on everything so brightly, it seemed as though nothing could hide from the hot rays of the sun. What amazes me is that I wasn't breaking a sweat, not one drop, which is kind of a big deal for me since I tend to sweat from everything and anything.

Sometimes I wonder how a country as small as Kuwait is able to handle this much sun, as if the land has a constant craving for scorching weather, grains of sand that burn at your feet, and dry air that could stiffen your tongue.

We stumbled upon an abandoned house on the corner of the street, nothing but dirt all around us. I would actually be amazed if anything green was put into my sights; how could anything live in such immense heat anyway? I looked at my freakishly tall cousin, a hint of a smile on my face as I squinted because the bright light of the sun was hindering half my vision. I could see him looking down at me with a big smile on his face.

"We found it!" he said as we skipped toward the house.

We weren't actually looking for that abandoned house. We were just walking, for no reason; being teenage boys, we had nothing better to do.

We went into the house, and I felt a sense of relief. The burning sensation on my head, face, and shoulders went away. I guess the sun can't creep into everything, and there are such things as dark, damp places hidden away from light. We vandalized what we could, breaking windows, peeing on black concrete walls, picking up rocks and jokingly throwing them at each other, without even caring that one of us could actually miss and accidentally throw a rock into one of our eyes. I guess that's how it goes when you don't feel responsible for anything.

"Ha-ha, Alex. Stop! Do you still have the cigarettes we bought yesterday?" I asked. "Give me one. I feel like smoking."

I actually didn't feel like smoking; honestly, I just felt like rebelling, being a bad boy, which is what made my heart pump. It was a feeling I had that every time I did something I wasn't supposed to, a void between my body and my soul got filled. I didn't even understand it.

I thought maybe everyone in the world was born with a little nothing in between and had to fill it with something to feel complete.

"Yeah, sure," Alex said, sticking his big hands into his baggy jeans. He pulled out a flip top box of Barclays along with a tiny green lighter.

When we finished smoking, like little children do—just filling our mouths repeatedly with dull, repulsive, numbing cigarette smoke—we started to leave as if someone or something was watching us.

There it hit us again, the smoldering heat, which made me close my eyes for a second as I looked away from the sun. I almost tripped on a white metal box we hadn't seen earlier. First we laughed as if it was hilariously funny to be clumsy. Then we stared at it. The box had red writing diagonally all along each side: Warning: Highly Flammable!

Alex took the green lighter from his pocket and tried to ignite the intense fumes coming out of a small hole on the top of the box. We didn't actually know what it was, and all I could read was the warning on the side. He repeatedly tried to light his lighter so close to the hole, but the flame kept on flicking off. It was exactly the same as when we put out the flame of a candle by blowing it with our lips.

"Give it to me, stupid," I said with a grin. "You're not supposed to light it so close to the hole. The fumes are keeping the lighter dormant, unable to breathe."

"Ha-ha!" Alex laughed sarcastically and shoved the hot sweaty lighter into my hands. "Let's see how you do it."

* * *

I do not know exactly what happened next. I do remember lighting it, and there was a small explosion, a breath of fire like I used to see on TV coming out of dragons. I could feel my right hand holding my left wrist tightly, as if suffocating it. I tried to look down at it; I wanted to put a visual on the aching sting of my left hand.

But I couldn't. I tried focusing. I could see that we were running. I could feel my body's heat from within. Looking through my eyes was like looking through a windshield. It was as if I was trapped inside my own body, wanting to take care of what I assumed was my burnt hand, wanting to stop running and catch a breath. Wrap my head around everything that had happened and recover those couple of minutes that went blank after I lit the box on fire.

I couldn't ... Something else was in control of my thoughts and body. It was as if I was a ... person within a person.

I looked down on my burnt hand, and for some odd reason, I had a smile on my face. The feeling of pain—meteors pumping into my heart every other beat—gave me a beautiful sensation.

We ran down toward the end of the road, and I spotted an aluminum, washed-up drinking fountain. "Hey, come on!" I pointed at it. "Let's wash my hand with cold water. Maybe it'll make my hand all better, ha-ha."

I stuck my hand beneath the rusty mouth of the old thing, pushed the release button, and nothing came out but hot, sun bathed lava water. Pain shot up into my heart like a thousand darts, pricking it as softly as darts could.

"Aaaghh! Damn it!" I shouted, bending over and shutting my eyes as if that would instantly stop the pain. I yelled at Alex, "Take off your damn sock and pour water on it. It'll be cooler that way."

As I wrapped Alex's dirty soaked sock around my fingers I was thinking about how disgusting that was. But we were kids, no one cared, certainly not me. I mean, I figured since the repulsive act slowed down the pain that was reaching into my heart, why the hell not!?

I had to live with that pain and hide my hand from my parents for a while. I didn't want them knowing what I had been up to. After it healed, I never looked back on it as a bad experience. I always loved anything that would give me an adrenalin rush.

* * *

I pretty much kept on being somewhat of a small menace with Alex for a very long time after that. Too bad I couldn't do anything about it. Honestly, I didn't even try changing what I was becoming. In fact, I loved it; being caged inside having a first person view of everything going on.

I should introduce myself.

But I won't just yet. I like keeping you on your toes; instead let me just introduce to you my life, my family and friends, we'll see where it goes from there.

* * *

I entered the upstairs school bathroom and could smell the awful stench of stale walls, shoe prints, and awful graffiti on the mirrors, not actually realizing what I was about to do. I looked at Thomas and he pointed for us to go inside the toilet booth, locking the door as we both cramped inside the bacteria infested small box.

"Hey, what if we do this, and then I want more of it? What do I do then?" I said, looking anxiously into his eyes.

"Loosen up your shirt," Thomas replied calmly, "and don't worry, if you ever need more you can always call me up anytime you want. It never goes dry, and certainly never runs out."

Thomas presented his Ray Ban sunglasses box. That's where he kept it; ready, safe and in his hand at all times. He flipped open the black box and I couldn't yet see what was inside, the top of it was giving me its back.

I wanted it. I always loved experimenting with new things, and this was the holy mother of all new things life had to offer. He reached for my arm and looked at my veins. I had a lot of them at that time, so it wasn't very hard to find one. He pricked my skin with the needle right into my vein, so smooth and gentle, inside the needle was a dark color of orange, like hard black morning tea. He pulled back the end of the needle and I began to see the most beautiful visions I had ever seen in my entire life. I saw my blood burst into the liquid orange, I could feel my blood craving it, trying to fill it, be a part of it. It was beautiful and natural like it was almost meant to be - if you don't mind me saying, love at first sight. I could feel my blood falling head over heels over this. Even though I still didn't feel it inside of me, I knew then that this would fill the void between my body and my soul, the love of my life.

He pushed the heroin inside me: seeing white plastic fill where my orange lover and blood tangoed, not wanting to go, but knowing that it would start to fill my entire body, I waited for it. Then it hit me, the flash; the two seconds where I could feel my brain turn backwards. I couldn't see anything but a purple ray open up from the sky. I could feel my body lift up to infinity, feeling warm and cozy, like you do on a cold night laying in your bed wrapped around a blanket and a quilt. Overwhelming beauty, my thoughts, my heart and all my senses shut down, seeing nothing, feeling nothing but calmness, nature, and beauty. That is the truest trance.

I was then vacuumed back onto the hard dirty floor of the cold smelly bathroom. I was crushed by gravity, let go by the heavens above and disbarred from life. At least inside I was; from the outside everything looked normal.

I could see Thomas in front of me again.

"Did you feel it? What do you think?" he asked with a half smile.

I smiled back and said, "I never want to go or be anywhere else my whole life. I was kissed by God!"

* * *

I was in total awe, it was overwhelmingly amazing.

I couldn't say anything else.

I was ... NUMB.

* * *

After school I went back to the big old house. Inside this huge concrete box were where my most valuable and prized people in the world would be; my beautiful sister, and two rug rat baby brothers. My father also lived in this house; but honestly, he was almost never there. We pretty much took care of ourselves ever since the divorce. My mom moved in with her parents and was struggling to get back on her feet since my dad married her and took away her education, money, and many long hard years. We saw her every weekend.

I came into my room still feeling the effects of the heroin running through my veins. My room was pretty much headquarters for us siblings; they all came and gathered in my room; we used to sit, talk, laugh and joke around all the time till day's end. Even though we had this huge brick house to run around in, I guess we gathered in my room because we felt we didn't have anywhere else to go. We felt safe there. To us that corner room at the far end of the house was our real home. So there they were, all smiling and talking, all three of them staring up at the big brother they looked up to, the one who made them feel safe, the one who made that room home. Hope.

Innocent in their beautiful minds and thoughts, they didn't know that it was about to break down. They were about to be abandoned in the sea of life with nothing to hang on to but the elements that separate the sea from the sky.

Another thing they did not know was that I wasn't their safety, I wasn't their home, and I wasn't the one who could save them.

Two baby brothers, a sister and a mother were about to be taken on the wildest ride of their lives.

They were getting ready to save me.

Chapter Two

The Beginning

I was seven or eight years old at the time. My family and I had just come back from the USA to our homeland, Kuwait, for a vacation. My dad was studying engineering there, so we said hi to the whole family and went to sleep, waiting to wake up tomorrow and start our vacation with smiles on our faces.

The next day I woke up early and headed down the stairs. I could hear no birds singing love songs, I couldn't hear any cars racing, and couldn't hear anyone talking in the living room. I guessed maybe everyone was still sleeping, so I would probably just turn on the old brown TV and watch some cartoons. As I entered the living room I could see my aunts crying on my grandfather's shoulders, holding them tightly and telling them not to worry. He lifted up his eyes with what seemed like a great amount of strength, and saw me standing there staring at them not knowing what to do. He shifted my aunts off his shoulders and gestured me to come to him with a good morning and a smile. But I could see dread in his smile and husky voice.

I walked toward them and asked, "What's wrong, Grandfather? Did my aunts do something wrong?"

"No, Son. They are just scared. Another country has sent in their army when they weren't invited in ... it's called an invasion. But don't worry, nothing will happen to us. We will be safe, Son." He said this in a sad low voice, which made my aunts start crying even louder.

I didn't believe him, I was smart that way.

So the day began, the whole family woke up, the phone was ringing nonstop, and we were cuddled in the living room, watching the news. All I could see was static containing lots of sand and tanks, lots of tanks. The voice coming out of the static TV box was shivering, not able to stand still. It looked like the camera wanted to take a piss, but kept it in just to show us the sand and tanks.

A few weeks had passed and we were still huddled up in front of the TV all day. Everyone talked in whispers. But mostly silence. They would say a few words every few hours; maybe we were playing charades, I guess we were. But no one was moving. What is this stupid game of charades? I thought, it's boring. Maybe they were trying to say "Hopeless."

"We are getting low on food," my father said. "We should go to the supermarket and get some things to eat, okay? Justin and Hank should come with me. We'll take the car and be back in two hours tops. The rest of you stay here wait for us. And don't leave the living room, and don't go anywhere alone!"

Justin, at 20 years old, was my youngest uncle. He was the kind of guy who didn't care about anything. He was all about being the bad boy at that age. He liked fixing things, cars and motorcycles mainly. So he always smelled like oil and gasoline.

I am Hank.

"No!" Mother stomped her foot down. "You're not taking my son anywhere out there. It's not safe!"

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Divine Innocenceby Hammed Al-Tamimi Copyright © 2012 by Hammed Al-Tamimi. Excerpted by permission of Abbott Press. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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