Leo let me know that I made his party, guys will be talking for a while "bout this... Talk about a weird way to meet people.
I"m going to have to visit Leo soon and see how many of my thoughts strike him... Maybe he"ll do some of those weird things that Bobby warned me about... I"ll bet I freaked Bobby out tonight anyway... I can"t understand what got into me, but I wanted it... I wanted to try and there it was.
I don"t care how high I am or how high I was... It felt good doing all of it. You can bet I"ll do it again.
Laura December 14,1986 Diary...
I dreamed about BOB last night. Not a real nice dream at all, a little sick in my opinion because I have so much hatred for the way he spoiled me... made me feel ugly and bad for wanting love or affection... He ruined all of my pride and self-esteem for the longest time... I could only be pretty and sweet, because pretty and sweet was easy... good grades even better. No one wanted me... I wouldn"t even let on that I knew what s.e.x was.
He did ruin me, didn"t he? I mean, in the dream he came to the window at Leo"s and saw me. It was a nastier scene in the dream than it was last night in reality. He kept showing this image of me again and again.
And then he was standing by the tree and he said, YOU WOULDN"T HAVE BEEN ABLE TO DO ANY OF THAT IF IT WEREN"T FOR ME.
I told him he was wrong. I told him I learned all that he saw when I was alone, so that I could do something to make myself feel good and be able to heal the wounds that he made.
He said, "OH, YEAH, THEN WHY DO YOU WANT LEO TO TIE YOU UP, MAYBE EAT YOU THAT WAY, MAKE YOU A SLAVE... I KNOW YOU WANT IT... JUST THE WAY I TAUGHT YOU, LITTLE b.i.t.c.h. I SAW YOU WITH THE WAND, PLAYING WITH YOURSELF... YOU WERE THINKING OF BAD BOY LEO, NOT BOBBY LITTLE BOY WHO WEEPS AFTER HE GETS f.u.c.kED BY A LITTLE s.l.u.t LIKE YOU."
And I woke up. Ashamed. Horrified. Guilty. And I imagined him suddenly, right before me at the edge of my bed.
YOU FORGOT, LAURA, I KNOW EVERYTHING, SEE EVERYTHING, GO ANYWHERE I WANT... I COULD TELL YOU MORE ABOUT WHAT YOU THINK ARE SECRETS THAN YOU COULD TELL YOURSELF! YOU LET YOUR GUARD DOWN, DIDN"T YOU, LET ME HAVE A NICE VACATION FROM THAT STENCH OF YOURS... THEN YOU HAD TO CALL ME BACK... RANCID LITTLE b.i.t.c.h! YOU"RE PRETTY MEAN TO ME SOMETIMES WHEN YOU WRITE, AREN"T YOU! WE"LL HAVE TO FIX THAT. MAKE YOU LOVE ME LIKE YOU USED TO. I REMEMBER THAT... SOON YOU WILL TOO?.
And then he disappeared. I need to do something that is right and good, Today!
Who in the f.u.c.k is he and why does he hate me so much?
I want to die, and to forget everything else. I can"t take it anymore! I begin to feel good and then someone makes me feel that I"m dirty. Then someone kisses me just right and I feel wanted and excited all over again.
I need to know if what I"m doing is right. I can"t let BOB be the one who taught me to wish to be tied up sometimes.
I don"t ever want to be hurt. I never have. I only want to play the games where I have to say dirty things sometimes, not mean things like BOB thinks, and if I am punished I am punished with s.e.x, not pain.
BOB is not who puts these ideas in my head. I won"t let him be the one. These are my private thoughts.
I"m afraid I"ll never make it in and out of another s.e.xual experience, ever, without being afraid he will come and tell everyone lies about me.
If someone who loves me reads this years from now, please try not to hate me. I only feel the way I feel. I don"t hurt anyone else, and I don"t want to. I try every day to be better and more the way I think the world wants to see a girl like me.
But I am Laura. I am sad. G.o.d, I"m sad again! Why! I miss laughter and a day where time is spent with my friends who don"t care what I think of late at night. They don"t hate me for sometimes dreaming late at night, with my hand buried between my legs, ashamed, and of how I wish that my other hand would simply pull the trigger.
BOB, I forbid you to come to me ever again, in dreams or in reality.
You are not welcome! I hate you.
I feel so alone, Laura January 10, 1987 Dear Diary, I tried to talk to Dad at breakfast and he just sat there twitching, like he doesn"t have time for any extra thoughts. Doesn"t have time for the f.u.c.king suicide dreams his own daughter is having. Neither one of my parents will talk to me... What is this? Some kind of a dream?
Dad took off all of his clothes and shouted, "It"s a dream ... f.u.c.king relax, would you?... So your mother saw photos of you licking the little privates of other women. It appeared in these photos that you were enjoying yourself. Is this true?"
I"ve never been more afraid than I am this very minute.
I didn"t even realize I was sleeping when that was written... was I?
s.h.i.t, this is too weird. Just a little too weird.
Was BOB here? Was BOB inside...
I won"t even think it.
L.
February 3, 1987 Dear Diary, There is no cocaine. It"s gone. I hate the way I feel... so much like I"ve been in a vacuum, my body has been violated, my thoughts, my dreams, the images I have of Mom and Dad are now awful and depressing pictures I can"t stop seeing... Oh, if she ever knew the things that have happened.
I wonder if anyone would believe me if I told them all I know about him... I could have the police wait for him, until he showed up, but he would know just like he knows everything in my mind. My mind is his toy. Something he bats around, with his paws. I"m just going to have to tell everyone and make them believe. And just tell...
TELL THEM WHAT, LAURA PALMER? TELL THEM THAT I TAKE YOU AWAY AND YOU NEVER ARGUE? YOU NEVER SCREAM FOR HELP? TELL THEM YOU SEE ME BUT NO ONE ELSE DOES? NO ONE WILL BELIEVE YOU, LAURA PALMER... I"M TOO CAREFUL.
Dear G.o.d... it"s happened again.... He"s stepped onto the page... This is not at all what I was trying to write! It frightens me terribly to know that BOB found his way into the pages of my diary as if he were feeding the words to my mind, just seconds in time for me to think that they are my own.
Is there something I can get for you, BOB... anything the family might own that you would take in trade for your permanent absence?
Talk to me BOB... about a trade... trade me for something else.
I AGREE. I"LL TRADE.
Who will it be?
CAN"T TELL WITH THESE THINGS... I MAY CHANGE MY MIND.
... I thought so.
L.
April 2, 1987 Diary, I need c.o.ke, bad, or I"ll never make it.
I gotta reach Bobby. Where the f.u.c.k is he when I need him! This is just great. I"m here, Laura Palmer, honor student, model citizen of Twin Peaks... and I"ve got a habit I"ve only just begun.
I"m not ready for this job... I"m still afraid BOB"s waiting.
If he"s in the woods he"ll get me now, "cause f.u.c.k if I don"t plan on having a big fat line of confidence up my nose in about half an hour. A big white line that calls my name the way a lover should. I wish BOB would trade. If he does I"ll try and find the person and tell them to beware OF THE MAN WHO CAN SLIP MAYBE IN AND OUT OF YOU LIKE A WIND THAT GOES UNNOTICED, THEN CREEPS UP ON YOU AND SHOVES A FIST INTO THE WOMAN s.p.a.cE YOU SEEM TO HAVE FALLEN SO IN LOVE WITH, LAURA PALMER... YOU SHOULDN"T WISH FOR THINGS... YOU WON"T GET WHAT YOU WANT, I"LL MAKE SURE OF IT.
REMEMBER, LAURA PALMER, I CAN MANIPULATE YOUR CONSCIENCE SO THAT YOU FEEL NOTHING BUT WHAT I CHOOSE FOR YOU TO FEEL. DON"T YOU FEEL LIKE DYING, LAURA PALMER... DON"T YOU JUST FEEL LIKE GIVING IN TO ME AGAIN. TAKE ME BACK AND I WONT CAUSE A HORRIBLE ACCIDENT LATER TODAY. IF SOMEONE GETS HURT, YOU CAN SMILE KNOWING IT"S ALL DUE TO YOU. SELFISH, DRUG ADDICT, LESBIAN!.
f.u.c.k you!
Maybe if I just get to Leo"s for some c.o.ke, I can get my s.h.i.t together and earn my freedom back. My privacy of thought, all of it. I"m taking it back. It belongs to me. I just need some c.o.ke... I need a ride out of here... f.u.c.k it, I"ll walk. I"ll just get up walk downstairs and out the front door like nothing is wrong. I"ll get some c.o.ke and everything will be better. I will be able to think. I"ll just walk to Leo"s and everything will be fine.
I"ll bring you with me, Diary - Laura April 2, 1987 Dear Diary, Leo had company of the female persuasion, and they were unable to get to the door.
Oh, G.o.d... money... s.h.i.t! Maybe he"ll front the c.o.ke to me, and I can pay him later, or... wait, he"s coming out of the house.
Talk soon, L Leo will be fair about the c.o.ke money, I hope I hope I hope.
April 2, 1987 Back, and happy at Leo"s: He"s got it, and it"s good. He just set me up with a noseload. and my head is starting to sort through the mental files again.. feel the blood in my veins... I told Leo I wasn"t like this weird addict, but I just haven"t slept in so long... Wait!
BOB is gone. I can"t feel him around. Maybe it"s because I"m high. Maybe I"m crazy and I made him up... No, f.u.c.k that. I"m crazy if I believe he"s only in my imagination... he"s real. I know he"s real. I do. I couldn"t and wouldn"t create something as evil as the man I speak of.
I am beginning to truly become what BOB told me I would. A fallen girl, misused, mistrusted, lost, loves s.e.x and drugs because they are always there, making me feel the high I expect... no surprises. Can"t you see you"re killing me, BOB? Is that the point?
I miss the days only a year or so ago when I could hardly remember a thing... I just knew somehow that on certain nights I came home, cried a lot, and hid behind the bathroom door, ashamed. I remember what you said to me, you s.h.i.t! I remember! I know you cut me when I was very young, several times, and you told me that I was in big trouble because I had bled. You told me good children don"t bleed down their legs. You told me I was not a child of G.o.d! Was there anything you chose to allow me to feel normal about! I grew up with you always there, showing me evidence of my evil blood and nature. You were that voice... you son of a b.i.t.c.h.
Leo needs to see me about money... I hope this transaction goes smoothly, painlessly, and silently. I told Leo that if Bobby shows up, I need to hear from him right away.
We"ve got to find another dealer just for tonight... I got the last of the pure, except for Leo"s personal stash, and that"s just what the name says. Personal. If I didn"t have so much s.h.i.t on my mind, I wouldn"t need more than this for the night, but I do. I have to have it. It"s all I have right now, man. My friend, the white line, who I am so conveniently reminded of each time I travel a major highway or see a snowstorm or a dash of baby powder, sitting like a tease inside my own f.u.c.king house.
I hope we can get more. We have to. After the past few days without sleep this f.u.c.kin" BOB deal... I just can"t go to sleep. Too dangerous.
AND WHAT, LAURA PALMER, IT"S BEEN TWO, THREE DAYS SINCE YOU FIRST SNORTED... YOU ARE A MESSED-UP b.i.t.c.h... STILL HERE.
f.u.c.k you, BOB. So I am what you always told me I was. A little b.i.t.c.h, dirty and sleazy and f.u.c.king people to pay for drugs. You win. You fed me pain when I had none, and when I did have pain, you said it was my own fault... I think you are the most repulsive, evil, conniving man ever to step foot in my life, where you had no invitation, no right. What in the f.u.c.k do you want! You cheat by never ever having to argue with someone strong enough to fight you... Conquer someone like that, then I"ll admit you"ve won. I"ll even follow you. No arguments.
Laura Palmer believes you are a cheat.
L.
June 24, 1987 Dear Diary, It is very late at night and I do not care to check in or to alert someone of where I am or even if I am safe. I don"t care to think about it. I don"t want to know any more about myself, from anyone... too many lies have entered me, like bullets that made wounds... slow bleeding. It would be years later that I would notice. Begin to feel the weakness. Fall into the world of drugs. The world of s.e.x for show and power. For strength I thought I wanted, I went to the wrong people.
The part of me with the ability to decide for myself whether something is right or wrong has been taken away. A decision lasts only a moment for me before I doubt it and curse myself for ever thinking I was capable of choosing right over wrong... I should have learned ages ago how to remember you. Perhaps I could have saved myself some very sad moments... very bad dreams, and several hundred desperate attempts at regaining my better self. The one who welcomed you in. The one to whom you owe an entire lifetime.
I certainly hope you got what you needed.
I can"t have good things, not now. I don"t know the road to responsibility, the way I used to. So simple to just walk down...
I have sent Troy away. Set him free with several lashes to the a.s.s (a method that kept me running for some time, as you must remember, BOB).
He"s gone. I don"t deserve him, nor does he deserve a life that begins and ends each day in a small square box. A reminder, if you will, that he is not free, but owned.
I let the pony go. One of the last things I had hoped for before recalling all of your... s.h.i.t. It doesn"t matter anyway.
I hope Troy understood why I made him leave me.
I"m so afraid that anything I touch runs the risk of contact with BOB. I"ll be investigating death... don"t worry. I can feel you deciding how and when. You b.a.s.t.a.r.d.
Laura November 12, 1987 Dear Diary, I hope G.o.d reads this: I could use the help.
It is definitely the end of my life, the end of my belief in myself... trust... everything gone! Leo and Bobby came to get me at the stables because I could hardly walk another step. Bobby said he had called home for me and told them he was taking me out to a surprise dinner... we"d be back late.
That was sweet and very considerate of him, I must admit. But like I told Leo and Bobby from the backseat as I changed clothes (again a thank-you to Bobby for borrowing something for me to wear of Donna"s-who tells Bobby she is worried about me). I"ll admit surprises here, not that I doubt Donna"s loyalty or her friendship, but I believe now too much in BOB. I told them both that I was worried. That I had good reason not to leave any one place, all night long. I said I was concerned enough that, if we all agreed, we could turn back and forget the c.o.ke until tomorrow. Bobby laughed at me, and Leo patted my hand as if I were something cute, something that chirped the same message again and again. Pulling a string at my back, unnecessary. "I don"t think this is very safe."
We drove out past Mill Town and deeper into Low Town. I"ve never seen a night so dark. No moon anywhere in the sky. This even worried Leo, who I"m sure will take good care of me, until I go. Everything I need right now is either a substance or the cash with which to buy a substance. My little white friend. Another lie, but at least I looked this one right in the face and said I"d believe it anyway. Temporary happiness is better than slowly allowing friends, family, lovers, a frightening peek at how close I am to self-destructing. Don"t come too close, there is no longer safety in numbers. I can promise you that.
We drove up to a small road without a posted sign of any kind, but a.s.sumed it was the right road, as it was the only one around for miles. Bobby just sat there before driving down toward the house. Leo egged him on, like, "C"mon, Bobby, let"s drive." I tried to get his attention, too, but he was honestly in another world. His face was something out of the Twilight Zone.
The minute Bobby came out of his thought he began barreling down the road, complete darkness ahead of us that somewhere shadowed a house. One I hoped was filled to an obscene level with cocaine and a quick drink if I managed a smile... Show teeth, I thought.
Leo looked at me like for a moment it struck him as wrong to be down here, under these conditions, not knowing anyone, and padded up with cash totaling in the thousands. I just slid back into my seat and shut up, suddenly realizing how ridiculous it was of me to change clothes... I"m only dressed for trouble when it comes to Low Town in an hour of darkness still not explained in news reports or radio stations. They"re not even saying there is a power failure.
I said, "I wonder, how long would it take the police to get down here after a call?"
Bobby reached into his jacket and produced his father"s pistol. It gleamed only slightly and I told him he was completely f.u.c.ked out of his mind to be carrying that around with him. I was now sure that it was not a stomachache I was experiencing, but instead a quite obvious gut instinct to turn around and drive like f.u.c.k-all until we were close to home.
The car did not turn, nor did it slow. The road showed no signs of life, no house up ahead, not a f.u.c.king soul around... well, perhaps a soul or two... which was even more reason to make a silent getaway while we still had the chance to leave together.
Out of nowhere, it seemed, Bobby slammed on the brakes. The truck spun in two full circles and dust shot up and began to glow in the light from the headlights. Finally we stopped. We were all in a bit of shock. "I thought I saw someone..." Bobby said. "I didn"t want to run him over." We all got out and moved slowly in the dark.
All of a sudden someone grabbed me from behind and began to strangle me. I thought, I don"t believe I"m going to die this way... in Low Town during a blackout no one will even admit is actually going on while I"m trying to buy drugs, cocaine to be specific, and neither of the two strong and burly men I have as companions know I"m being f.u.c.king strangled! I thought that was it... I"d bought the G.o.dd.a.m.n farm here. Cash. Paid in full.
The grip loosened, my vision blurred and I pa.s.sed out cold. I woke up in this drug dealer"s house with a headache that thought it was an aneursm. Bobby and Leo came into the room, and Bobby obediently took a seat next to me and acted worried about my head, and his concern reminded me of just how it had happened. And I said (a fair amount of sarcasm in this, I might add), Who"s f.u.c.kin" bright idea was it to strangle me until I pa.s.sed out cold?
No one responded.
"Then I guess this would be the way you guys meet chicks here in Low Town?" Silence in return. "Cla.s.sy."
The fattest of the four dudes pulled a gun from his shirt and aimed it at me. I looked at him, like he was going a bit overboard maybe... that a "Shut up" or "f.u.c.k off" would have been perfectly clear to me. He c.o.c.ked the mother-f.u.c.kin" thing and brought it to my face.
"I apologize, sweetheart... Can"t expect everyone wearing a dress to be a girl." He looked at me, licked his gun. "Nice t.i.tties."
"I know." Not that his explanation for strangling me made any sense at all. His apology was accepted, and quite seriously preferred, over a permanent hole in my head. I offered my hand and thanked him for not shooting me. It would have really f.u.c.ked up my evening. There was a pause... and no handshake.
Slowly, and with great pleasure, he began to curl the edges of his mouth up up up, and ended the performance in a frozen "eat s.h.i.t and die" grin, the likes of which I had only seen once before. I knew the deal was bogus. I found myself kept alert and up-to-date on the etiquette of silence by the four pistols that found quite important parts of my face on which to rest their barrels.
Cold metal. A chill at the base of my neck. Frightening. Call me crazy, but weapons often cause me to hyperventilate and desire large quant.i.ties of fresh air A.S.A.P.
I told them I was going to the truck. I kept thinking one of the guns would go off and make a beeline for me. I had to get air, which was made more difficult than usual due to the shrinkage that took place in my neck. Besides, I"m afraid of bullets and would bet good money that they hurt when inserted inside the flesh at a high speed.
I was suddenly aware of persons in military attire, posted like frozen nightmares all around the house. One of the soldiers came up to my window and I was all huddled up because it was chilly and I was frightened.
With one of the straightest faces I had ever seen, he asked, "You ever think about dying?"
"Not in a situation like this one. No, sir."
He looked at me like I had just made his promotion arrive a few days earlier than scheduled, and he said, "You must want to step outside the vehicle, please, miss."
"Are you just going to shoot me or something?"
"There"s been a fair amount of cocaine stolen from inside the house. I thought maybe you"d like to show me that the truck is clean and we can go on with business... par the norm."
I got out and I thought I was going to shatter into little pieces of bone, I was so scared. "Everything okay?"
"On my end of the shotgun, yes, it is."