There’s a knock at the door upstairs. I am sitting on the cold and oddly reassuring floor of the basement. I’m going through a box of old photos taken by disposable cameras. I have been looking at the same photo for about five minutes. In the photo I am sitting in the back seat of an SUV between two girls. To the right of me sits a girl named Alexandra. She has a strawberry shaped face with large anime eyes. Her features seem close together, saturated in makeup. To the left of me sits a girl named Allie. She is blonde with a round face. Her eyes are an intense light blue. Her features are soft, seemingly plain but anyone who knew her knew the unique and endless expressions that she made. Her smile is bright in the hazy photo, with her perfect white teeth. I believe that her smile was genuine. She was truly happy there. We dated several years ago. We were in love. I look at myself in the photo. My hair is long and shaggy. My smile is sheepish against my chubby and uneven face. I was just a kid back then. I had no idea what was coming. I look at Allie again, something hot and bendy moves in my chest like a snake. There is another knock at the door. I set the photo back in the box and run up the stairs. I peak through the peephole. No one is on the other side. I open the door. On my doorstep there is a piece of paper folded and kept closed by a hairpin. I pick the paper up and unfold it. Written in pen ink, in bold letters it reads “I KNOW WHAT YOU DID”
I have been sober for 90 days now. I’m an alcoholic. I can admit it. I used to go on benders that lasted 3-4 days. I lost multiple jobs because of this. Many people told me to stop drinking. They told me I was a different person when I drank. I didn’t attempt sobriety until one fateful night 3 years ago. I was drinking at my house on a Saturday, just drinking straight Canadian Springs whiskey from the bottle. It was already midnight, but I decided to go to the bars and look for fun. I ended up blacking out after a round of shots with strangers. What happened next, I don’t remember. I just remember waking up in a hospital room. I was covered in scrapes and bruises. I had broken ribs and it was hard to breath. My parents were there. They looked like they had been crying for a while. That is when they told me that Allie was dead.
The doctors told me I had been jumped by a group of teenagers. I was too drunk to really defend myself and they took everything I had: Phone, wallet and even my jacket. I didn’t care about any of that. I was heartbroken over Allie’s death. My parents told me she had been drunk driving and ran off a bend in the Highway. She died on impact in a ditch.
I did a short stint in re-hab. I wanted to mend myself and come to Terms with Allie’s death. I told my counselors that I felt responsible for her death. She barely drank before she met me. I introduced her to cocaine and soon we were both using together on a regular basis. She would join me on my benders. I would tell my therapists that if it weren’t for me she would have never got behind the wheel intoxicated. I sucked her into my world of substance abuse. Misery loves company.
Lately I’ve been dreaming about my childhood house. I go from room to room inspecting everything. It’s exactly how I remember it. I check the refrigerator and make myself a baloney sandwich: the same as my mom used to make. I spot a bottle of chardonnay on the bottom shelf. I remember I’m in a dream and smile, pouring myself a glass. I walk to the basement wine glass in hand. Suddenly I start feeling cold. I feel afraid. I feel like a child again, the same fear that gripped me in the basement a decade before. I can feel something isn’t right. I open the door to a room where my parents kept their storage. Standing in the corner is what looks like a man. Though his whole body is like a dense fuzzy shadow. His body seems to move like static. He has no facial features. He speaks to me, his voice coming from his mouthless face. His voice sounds like three old men speaking at once. He says: “I’ve come a long way to find you.” I always wake up at that point. The smell of chardonnay faint in my room.
I keep looking at the note left on my doorstep. I feel a lurch in my stomach. The hairpin used to clasp the paper looks like the hair pins that Allie used frequently. I used to find them in my house all the time when we were dating. I can’t shake the unsettling feeling, so I take a walk. This sounds bad but I ended up going to the store and buying a bottle of chardonnay. I didn’t drink it. I just open the refrigerator door and look at it from time to time. It comforts me.
Last night I had another dream. This time I am at my house. I go to the kitchen and open the refrigerator. I look at the green chardonnay bottle and smile. The fluorescent light from the tiny bulb above it makes me feel warm inside. Then suddenly a voice speaks from behind me. Three old men speaking at once: “I have something to show you.“ The shadowy man says. I am too afraid to object. He reaches out and grabs my hand. Everything goes dark for a moment. Then I realize we are standing outside of a bar. It’s late at night. I see a girl walking on the sidewalk towards me. It takes me a moment but then I realize that it’s Allie. “Allie! Allie!” I cry out. But the shadowy man says flatly “She can’t hear or see you, child. No one can in this place”
We follow her into the bar. My heart starts pounding with what I see next. It’s me at the end of the bar. I’m waving at Allie. I look younger. “Let’s listen in” the shadowy man says grabbing my shoulder gently and pushing me towards the other me and Allie. The younger version of me is obviously drunk. He is trying to convince Allie to go to a party on the other side of town. “I’m too drunk to drive" she says. The younger me grins, “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll drive” Allie shakes her head “you’re drunker than I am” Younger me laughs “Babe, I drive better drunk” After another shot she agrees. Though somewhat reluctantly. They walk out of the bar. “Let’s follow” The shadowy man says.
We walk after them out the door. Younger me gets in the driver seat. Allie gets into the passenger seat. The shadowy man and I climb into the back. Younger me blasts music and sings along. Allie is silent and despondent. We turn off onto a highway the road is dark, but younger me is driving faster. Allie Shouts “Slow down, Jesus Christ!” but Younger me laughs and drives even faster. He takes a sharp turn and the car goes out of control. He hits the guard rail. The car flips off of the road. Everything is a blur for a moment. Then the car stops. The air is filled with smoke. Me and the shadowy man are unscathed. Younger me however is gasping for breath. He is bleeding all over. We all look at Allie. She is lying lifeless against the dashboard, a river of blood spilling from her head.
Young me screams “NO NO NO NO” he gets out of the car and paces around frantically. He gets back into the twisted vehicle and pulls allies body upward so that he can see her face. She is obviously dead. Her face is just a mass of blood and matted hair. Everyone in the car is still for a moment. Then younger me opens the driver side door. He drags Allie’s body from the passenger seat, into the driver seat. He positions her in a driving position. He shuts the driver side door and walks down to the nearby river off the shoulder of the road. He takes his phone out and tosses it into the center of the river. He takes his bloody coat off and rinses it in the water. He then lets it slide down the current until it disappears.
He gets back to the road and walks alongside it back into town. The shadowy man and I follow him for miles until we reach downtown. It’s a rough neighborhood known for crime. Younger me spots a homeless man pushing a cart of cans. “Hey! You!” young me shouts. The old homeless man looks over at younger me, alarmed. Younger me pulls out his wallet, it is full of bills. “Hey old man, I’ll give you this wallet with all the money in it if you do something for me.” The old man looks at younger me apprehensively. “What do you want me to do?” He asks, a hint of fear in his voice. Younger me ambles over and rests his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Call the cops, tell them I’ve been attacked by a group of delinquent teenagers. Tell them you saw it all happen, and the money is yours.”
Everything goes dark again. I wake up in my bed and smell the faint scent of Canadian Springs.
Submitted April 15, 2017 at 12:40AM by JaytheFarmer http://ift.tt/2pjcaWx nosleep
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