When we left our story last time:
Somehow I made it the remaining three blocks home. I have no memory of just how I accomplished this but I did. I pulled my dented and now lethal car into the garage attached to the side of my house. I hoped that none of my neighbors had seen me pull in driving wildly with a dented hood. I pushed the button on my remote control engaging the mechanism of the overhead door, shutting out the world and shutting in the murderous evidenced. I vowed not to open that door again until this incident had blown over. I didn’t know how right I was.
I must have passed out right then because I don’t remember anything else until I woke up to the sun streaming through the one dirty window in the garage. I had left the keys in the ignition and radio on. At least I had shut the motor off.
The song on the radio ended and the news was beginning. I didn’t pay much attention at first but tuned in as the hit and run I had perpetrated became known to the public. “…was killed in a hit and run late last night. The fatal hit and run occurred in the vicinity of Nick’s bar. The police have no suspects as of yet but are investigating the late night patrons of the bar suspecting drunk driving as the cause of the accident. Nick had no comment when asked.”
I still had enough of Nick’s whiskey in me to be relieved that they hadn’t found me yet. A split second later I screamed again, horrified that it was actually me that had hit and killed someone.
I got out of the car none too steadily and staggered into the house, glad that I had neglected to lock the door. I aimed myself towards the stairway and the bedroom that I called my own. Reaching the stairway I began climbing, dropping my dirty clothes wherever they happened to fall. I made it to my bedroom falling into my unmade bed and a deep sleep seconds later.
I did not move until late in the afternoon when the sun again streamed through a window and onto my face. This window was however, much cleaner than the one in the garage. I felt terrible. Bad men with sledge hammers beat at the inside of my skull while my mouth was being assaulted by cotton and blowtorches. The demon of guilt clung tenaciously to my back and weighed heavily on me. I rubbed my face and stood up, my stomach reeling.
I managed to lurch to the bathroom before what was left of last night’s escapade forcefully ejected itself from my stomach. I washed my face and looked at my bloodshot eyes in the mirror. I was aghast at what I saw. Those eyes were not only displaying the effects of the alcohol but were haunted with the knowledge of what I had done. All the while I was hoping that it was just a bad, drunken dream and not the reality I feared.
I brushed my teeth and put on the robe that was hanging on the bathroom door. I went downstairs to the kitchen to try to find something to eat. I was scared but ravenous.
I was disappointed. The only thing that looked remotely edible was some cold cereal that I had owned for years. Luckily it was still unopened and ready to eat. I even had some milk in the refrigerator. Maybe last night was all a dream. I sat down in my favorite chair and began to eat. I even began to feel better thinking that last night was just a dream.
That was until I turned on the television and encountered more news. “…late last night. If anyone has witnessed this accident downtown please contact the police. There is talk of a reward being offered for the capture of this individual. We offer our condolences to…” I gaped open-mouthed at the television, dropping my spoon into the cereal can causing milk to splash on my lap. I was terrified again. I began to hyperventilate again. I was definitely not hungry anymore. I was a murderer. I…was…a…murderer. I was a murdering drunk!!! What am I going to do? Where can I go to get away from this? Maybe I should turn myself in. Right. How can I do that?
The rest of the story:
Part 1 Starts Here!
Part 2 Continues Here!
Part 3 Is Here!
And Part 5 Is Here!
Part 6 Right Here!