The clock ticked one minute past ten o'clock. I reached into my nightstand drawer and pulled out my flask of whiskey. I unscrewed the metal container and indulged in the concoction. The liquid felt soothing. I secured my pointed party hat that had gone crooked. My husband snored loudly on the couch. He had gotten drunk already and passed out. So now I was alone. So I drank alone. This was shaping up to be another great New Years Eve.
I couldn’t wait for the New Year to come, for god knows this year has been hell. I lost my son Jimmy to a drunk driving accident. He was kept alive on machines for most of the year, pumping synthetic life into his mangled body. The bills piled up, the mortgage suffered and when Jimmy died the house got repossessed. Also when he died a big piece of our family died with him. My husband was never the same. He became very despondent and started to drink heavily. This caused him to lose his job. Now he sits home everyday and wallows in misery and slowly drinks himself to death. My other son, Robert, went the same route. He started drinking and using drugs. Eventually he dropped out of college and has been living on the streets addicted to crack and heroin. I tried to help him. I tried to help everyone. But now, I surrender to the bottle, and I drink alone at night. So as you can tell by now, this past year has been hell. But nothing could have prepared me for the terror that was to come.
About an hour later the first of the knocking began. It startled me. I was half drunk and didn’t know if I had actually heard it or it was a figment of my dizzy mind. Who would be knocking on my door? All the friends we had, we pushed away. No one came to visit us any more; no one called to check up on us. If it were Robert, he would have just walked in. The door was not locked. So who could it be knocking on my door at this hour, on this night, less than an hour away from the end of the worst year ever.
Then I heard a second knock. The only time that I hear the door knock is when something bad happens. The bank coming to collect the mortgage money. The rehab telling me that Robert had left. The police telling me that Jimmy had been in an accident. Oh god that was the worst night ever. I remember it like it was yesterday. I keep replaying the horrific moment over and over again in my mind. The police knocking…
“Ma’am, I have some bad news to tell you.”…. The millions of horrible thoughts that ran through my mind. But nothing could have prepared me for what he said next. “Your son has been in an accident.”
Oh god, I thought, my car! Is it totaled? That was my first thought.
“Your son…” Said the officer.
I knew what he was going to say before the words escaped his lips
“….He’s, not good.”
Reality set in. How hysterically I cried that night. But that was then. That was that knock. This was another threat, another knock.
The door banged a third time. The knock rung hollow through my body like wind through a dead tree. I rose from my armchair, kicking over the empty flask. My husband still laid dormant, stomach rising and falling with each snore. The year was not over yet. There was less than an hour left. There was still time for something awful to happen. What could it be this time? My first thought was Robert. Had they found him dead or was he in jail? I just knew it would be something horrible. I walked towards the door, towards the knock. My fingers enclosed the knob. A harsh coldness exerted from my fingertips, up my arms and ultimately consuming my whole body, a warning not to open the door, an omen. The knob tried to warn me. I should have taken heed. But I opened the door anyway. And I wasn’t too surprised when behold there stood a police officer.
I almost broke down. “Oh no, oh no. Don’t tell me, please don’t tell me!”
“Ma’am this is not going to be easy.” The officer said solemnly.
“Oh god, what is it now?” I started to cry.
“Ma’am, you better have a seat.”
“Oh god, what is it?” I cried loudly.
“Okay,” began the officer. “Here it is. Your ah… well you see, we found your… ah, your trash cans. They were found smashed and dented on your neighbor’s lawn. We have no leads or suspects at the moment but we are questioning the neighbors as we speak. Don’t worry we will find the monster that did this to your cans.”
“NOOOOOO!” Why, why, why me, why me?” My whole life shattered. I dropped to my knees and started crying more hysterically. My husband heard the commotion and came over to comfort me.
The clock struck midnight. The ball dropped. The whole nation came together as one with love and merriment. They cheered and hugged and danced and toasted. Everyone was happy to be alive, everyone that is except my husband and I. The year was finally over. It had robbed us of everything. For on that very New Years Eve concluded the worst year anyone could ever endure.
And still to this day we have no idea who committed those violent acts on our trashcans and we may never find out.
THE END
