Insomnia Horror Collection

The Exit

Dad... Dad's drunk again, he's always drunk it seems. Mom died last year almost to the day and of course there he is in his own world of misery. I wish I could say he was drinking to the memory of mom— that his pain is so much so that he can't bear to handle it sober, but... that isn't true. In truth he's been this way for a while and, as much as I hate to admit what he's become, I know he uses anything that happens as an excuse to drink.

To make matters worse, three days ago dad got word from grandpa's neighbor in Conway that grandpa had passed away in his sleep. I feel bad about it all, not so much for grandpa because dad never really took me around him, but for dad. I guess he had his reasons and I can't say I'm heartbroken because I never got a birthday or Christmas card despite living a whopping 20 minutes away in Marshfield. Like I said, I guess he has his reasons. This makes his drinking easier to explain away, however. I mean, now his wife and father are gone leaving just myself and him.

Eh, I guess maybe I'm being too hard on him. Just because I didn't know grandpa doesn't mean dad didn't love him at some point. Or maybe even still, I don't know. Damn... is this who I am now? Olivia said I had become colder since mom died— that I seem more robotic. I guess you can only lose so much before the body and mind starts to numb you from all of life's bullshit.

Now all I have left is dad and Olivia. I still don't know why she dates me... some sad miserable guy. Yeah that's me; miserable. I guess it's fitting that we live in Missouri, right?

"Charlie! Charles!" Dad's inebriated voice from the living room calls out.

I sit my tall, lanky figure up in my disheveled bed, "Yeah, dad I'm coming!"

I run my fingers through my short, brownish-blonde hair and proceed into the living room.

"Charlie!" My dad slurs loudly, not realizing I'm right beside him.

"Dad! I'm right here..." I reply.

Dad is still in his work shirt which, is sloppily un-tucked with his fading nametag that is barely visible.

Tim, it reads with his company name above it. Dad used to be a trucker. After mom died, his drinking got worse and they wouldn't let him drive. Thankfully his boss, Bud, didn't fire him. He knew dad was hurting and with me being only 15 then, he knew there was no one else to provide for me. He took dad off of his routes and put him in the shop to work on the trucks the other drivers had issues with. Bud is a good man. Better than we deserve.

"Oh, Charlie listen, Bop had some kind of lawyer or something that called me. He said we need to come in to his office in Springfield and sign some papers to uh... you know, tie up loose ends and arrangements and all that."

"Yeah, ok dad. You want me to drive you tomorrow?"

Dad manages to open his eyes and squint one, looking me up and down knowingly. He sees the anticipation on my face.

"Yeah, what the hell, why not?" He replies to my semi-smile.

Dad had been slowly teaching me how to drive. I was ecstatic, as most kids my age are, and was looking forward to not having to ride my BMX bike to my girlfriend, Olivia's, house anymore.

Also, I had a suspicion that it would help if he needed me to pick him up from the bar sometimes, but I'm sure he'd never admit as much.

The next morning, dad and I ventured out of our single story town home in Marshfield, Missouri's more historic area and into dad's Toyota Tacoma truck. This part of town time had forgotten. To be honest, the entire town time had forgotten. Its claim to fame was some guy who invented a telescope or something. I couldn't really remember.