House of Dirt

This is a true story of how I left drugs.

• Drama
• Non-Fiction
• Autobiographies

								
I remember a conversation with my mother. I made promises I wouldn’t keep. 
Promises to not cross the street at undesignated crosswalks and never do drugs.
I had just finished the D.A.R.E program. While throughout my life, I could never 
envision what I wanted to do, I never thought I would be ‘one of those people’. The type of
person people crossed the street to avoid.
That conversation ran through my mind as I took another step back, adrenaline 
racing through my veins.
“Why don’t you wanna f*ck me? It’s always bitches like you that think they’re too 
good for me.” He took another step forward. His eyes were glazed over, it was almost hard 
to believe they belonged to a human. 
I tried to find my voice, and even more importantly, my words. “You certainly have 
quite the... personality.” I took another step back.
He was a large man. His name was Black Greg. He was black and his name was 
Greg. He wasn’t known for his creativity when it came to street names. “I didn’t hear a no.” 
I barely had time to turn and run before he flailed his arms out. “You better run 
bitch!” I didn’t need to be told. My feet were flying faster than they had ever flown before. I 
was surprised my shoes weren’t on fire. 
Streets and cars were moving in a blur as I ran as fast as I could. I snaked through 
alleys. I hid under a porch hoping I had lost him. 
I held my chest as I gulped for air, wishing desperately for even a sip of water. I 
didn’t dare leave my hiding place. As my breathing slowed, I tried to think of what I would 
do. 
I couldn’t remember falling asleep but when I woke I did my best to sneak from 
under the porch undetected. 
I considered what I should do. I knew I was safe in the daytime. 
I was tired of being scared to close my eyes. I was tired of men thinking they owned 
me. 
The Urban Rest Stop, a place where homeless people could take showers was 
open, so I started walking there. It was usually dirty and the staff was usually rude but it 
was a guaranteed shower. 
I walked up the steps, and in the doorway. A thin, wiry man sat atop a stool with a 
clipboard. He held his clipboard matter of factly as he looked at me. “Name?” 
“August. Do you guys have any shampoo and conditioner?” I asked hopefully. 
He smirked as he took a small plastic cup and set it in on the rickety table in front of 
him. Almost as if making a point, he slowly poured Dial dish soap into the cup. After he had 
about a tablespoon of soap, he handed me the cup. “Enjoy.”
I frowned. ”Don't they sometimes have donations?”
“Well unless you wanna be using sunscreen as shampoo that’s what you got. 
Shower five. There’s a line. Hurry up.” He motioned toward a door labeled with the number 
‘5’.
I took the cup and walked into the room. 
I knew the chances of me getting hot water were slim to none and I was right. I took 
my cold shower as fast as possible, washing Black Greg’s voice off me as I did. I looked at 
the grime underneath my feet on the shower floor, the soapy water swirling into the greasy
drain.
A pounding came from the other side of the door. “Five minutes! If you don’t get out 
We’ll have someone come in” 
As I stepped out of the shower onto the dirty tile floor, I looked at my dirty clothes, 
knowing they were all I had to change into. I took a deep breath and put them on.
I nodded at the man on the stool as I left, ignoring his smirk.
A woman stood outside the Urban Rest Stop. She had hair the color of an eggplant 
and a Carhartt beanie. “Are you interested in resources like housing or food?” 
I looked her up and down. She had a long sleeved flannel shirt over a t-shirt. “What 
do I have to do?”
She looked puzzled. “What do you mean?” I could tell that wasn’t the answer she 
was expecting.
“Do I have to pray or something?” I had heard of shelters that required people to 
pray if they wanted to stay the night. I had no reason to believe this would be any different. 
She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and handed it to me. “No strings. 
I’m a case manager from an organization called Rhyther. We help people find housing and 
help them accomplish any other goals they might have.” 
I pulled the plastic off the cigarettes watching her closely as I put one in my mouth, 
lighting it, going to handing the cigarettes back to her.
She shook her head. “Consider it an act of good faith.” She smiled at me. “Do you 
want to come and talk to me?” She motioned to a large blue van parked right next to where 
she was standing. 
I considered her offer. The idea of having a safe place to sleep was alluring. It didn’t 
take long for the idea of waking up without someone I didn’t know touching me to win me 
over. “I guess so.” I flicked my cigarette to the ground.
I got in to the passenger side of her van. The back was filled with sleeping bags and 
tents. 
“So.” She studied me. “If you could have anything. What would it be?” 
I stared at my feet. “It isn’t safe out here anymore. Not that it was in the first place.” 
The words started tumbling out before I could stop them. Something about Abbie made metrust her. “It used to be fun. Being out here. I used to trust these people but when I look at 
their faces there’s nothing left. The people aren’t there anymore. I don’t want to be like 
them. Can you help me get out of here?” I tried to hide the tears that were burning my eyes.
“Yeah dude.” She reached into the backseat and grabbed a backpack. “We need to 
do an assessment to see which shelters would be best for you. Is that alright?” 
My heart started beating faster. Was I ready for this? I hadn’t slept inside in years. 
“Yeah, let’s do it.”
We laughed and joked our way through an endless list of questions. 
“According to this assessment, you would do really well at Labateya. Have you ever 
stayed there?” She handed me a bottle of Gatorade.
I shook my head. “I’ve never heard of it.”
She shrugged. “It’s actually a really good shelter. How about I tell you about it on 
the way? If it’s showing up in the database they have spots open.”
I swallowed my doubt with a mouthful of blue Gatorade and nodded before I could 
change my mind. “Let’s go.”
“Are you nervous?” She asked me, when she noticed me chewing my already 
chewed fingernails. 
“Why would I be nervous?” I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t used to people being 
nice to me. 
Abbie scoffed. “For one, I’m a nail biter myself, so I know it when I see it. Also, this is 
a major life change.”
“Yeah I guess I’m nervous. Shelters are kind of a new thing to me.”
“This is going to be good for you.” She smiled as we pulled into the parking lot of a 
large white building.
As we approached the front door she looked at me and asked, “Are you ready for 
this?”
“I guess we’ll find out won’t we?” I took a deep breath as she knocked on the door.
A white woman with sharp salon painted nails open the door. “Hello?”
“Hey. I’m a case manager and this is my client August. We’re hoping to get her a 

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