Today we can enjoy the savage tales of sex, drugs, and crime without fear of government prosecution. No longer do writers have to communicate with code words or hide behind pseudonyms. But it was the literary outlaws of the sixties and seventies – Anais Nin, Robert Silverberg, Earl Kemp, William Burroughs and countless others – who blazed the trails of a transgressive medium and paved the way for our intellectual freedom. The cutting-edge content and luridly beautiful covers entranced readers. “Sleaze paperbacks sold by the million throughout the decade,” writes FeralHouse.com. “Their unorthodox content and inroads into the marketplace provoked new laws, FBI investigations, high-pitched court battles, and prison sentences for the crime of obscenity.” Look for the above titles at LA's independent Skylight Books. In the spirit of these brave writers, we present the blunt and honest story of Nikki Love, a literary fox and trailblazer in her own right.

ALONE...

SOMETIMES A LADY DESIRES TO KEEP IT REAL, EVEN IF HER LOVER FEARS THE TRUTH.

A man I'm dating, or really just fucking, recently told me he didn't want to hear anything else about my past because it was starting to scare him.

"OK, babe, I'll just sit here and be quiet then."

I overdosed on drugs on New Years, I tell him, admitted myself into the ER, where they pumped me with more drugs and sent me on my way. I walked three miles home noon New Year’s day without missing a beat, the flyest dope fiend Hollywood has ever seen.

I would be scared of me too. If I can’t tell you about my past I guess I have to write about it then.

I was born with a cord that was already cut. A disconnected umbilical almost ended my beginning and caused no situation to form maternal connection. I was barely raised by parents who hated themselves even more than they hated each other. The DUI and totaled Jaguar didn't stop my dad's drinking. Nights of screaming and crying didn't stop my mother's. It was the liver cancer and heart attack that ended it for them. The fear of death that neither of them passed on to me.

I spent years of being in the 99 percentile, teachers begging my parents to pay attention. They were too busy running from their pasts and from each other. I was forgotten at school, people’s houses, shipped from place to place, living out of a bag. Memories of starving until I was old enough to feed myself. At 8 I mastered eggs, pancakes, and french toast. Home alone, even when they were around.

My father couldn't handle the monster he had created. He kicked me out, cussed me out, and threw me to the floor. Then he bought me another trinket, gave me some money and sent me on my way until the next time his past crept back up on him. I picked my first boyfriend in high school. Lost my virginity only because I had no reason not to, no flowers, no promises of love, just hours of pain and bleeding to the repeated soundtrack of Chronic 2001. He had no idea. I spent my days at school with top grades, varsity sports, and popularity gained only from my outer appearance. Social outcast saved. I spent my evenings in East Oakland at a crack house. Around knots and knocs. Or draped in a black hoody not to be recognized or able to be singled out as we jumped fences. I was the coolest girlfriend ever. Ride or die. Plus my life in the hills left me with a car and I rightfully inherited my father's brain and thug mentality. That one went away to college and brought me back HPV.

So I returned the favor when it was my turn to go away. I did it so quietly. He never saw it coming. And with no remorse. Kaiser called me with threats of cancer and the painful scraping of my cervical cells I was soon to endure. And you cant build a healthy relationship with the rebound, a relationship built on resentment can only die in resentment. He drugged me on my 22nd birthday, took me back to his house, and fucked the shit out of me without condom. Because I had to pay for his crack head father and his disillusioned mother.

A blood vessel broke in my brain when I was 18, a birth defect, no doubt from the two Jack-and-Cokes a night my mom allowed herself to drink while she was pregnant with me. (Unless she was sick, then she would get drunk to make it through. She said that without the alcohol she wouldn't have let either of us make it so I should be thankful.) But I survived. Complete medical success story once again. But most days I feel like I died that day. My dad died when I was 20; my aunt died four days later; my uncle a year later in the same month. My mother's brother was diagnosed with cancer and my sister almost died from a violent seizure in the shower.

I met a man who drugged and drunked me five days out the week and I dropped out of school. I contracted his emotional destruction. It destroyed the last ounce of feelings I had left. So the night that he put his hands on me I didn't feel much. It was almost welcomed, feeling anything. I only felt sorry for him. But I still got my degree. Premed. How shiny and exciting. It was easy to meet parents then, premed from a UC school just sounds so wholesome.

I traveled the world, destroying everything in my path. I stopped counting how many men I slept with. The tests kept coming up clear. I left them all with an unhappiness and an addiction they never counted on. They all had to pay. And they all still are. The worse the destruction they tried to cause me the longer the pain will rot away their souls. They cheated and stole and lied and I only smiled and moved on. A few tears just for kicks, but they just didn't get it. Because in the end they suffered more. And they all still call. Still after she wasn't what he thought she would be. After getting her pregnant didn't work. After the right girl turned out to be dull next to my fiery edge.

Because my porn star body is not the type you take home to mommy or the one that can be taken out on dates, mine is the one that gets called at 3 in the morning. The one you can drink with, do drugs with, vent at, and fuck all your passion and frustration into. The best kind for a confusing worldwind of unwanted emotions. This is the forbidden love you can't shake. And it kills you.

At 24 years old I have seen the whole world, done everything, felt everything. I was once like an immortal angel, floating around changing lives. Now I am the demon that only causes destruction in its wake. You thought you had it all figured out until the day you met me. I challenged you, changed you, but you will be better for it. Much better prepared to face the real bitch, life.

Destined to be alone, I accept my position in this world.