The Edge Of Insanity

4-Frustation

"Damn, I should have avoided that ugly thing. I should have resisted the nostalgic euphoria from 15 years ago." I despise myself for following my human instincts. It will ruin my life.

I feel like my blood is boiling, and my head is about to explode. Anger, fear, and anxiety immediately haunt me. I dump all my frustration by intentionally yelling at Sam, "Go find it there!"

"Fuck... fuck... fuck..." I hit my head, just like my dad used to hit me in the past.

I roam around, searching for any sign of life or a corpse. In panic, I walk along an uneven path in the forest. In the darkness, I can only see the tree trunks around me.

I spot a pair of eyes sticking out in the darkness. At first, I assume it's a cat, but when I shine the light on my cellphone, the corner is empty.

We spend an hour searching to return with empty hands. We couldn't find anything to prove our innocence, and my head gets dizzier.

Sam convinces me to forget it, insisting it could have been a wild animal. We head back home, opting to wait until we're sober.

I remain quiet on the way home, while Sam offers affirmations and comforting words that sound like bullshit to me.

After dropping him off, I head to the restaurant. There, I continue to dwell on what happened.

I can't think straight anymore, so I start gulping down glass after glass of beer, trying to numb my anxiety. Before I know it, I'm drunk at the bar.

I'm suddenly awake by the sensation of vomit rising in my throat. Nausea and dizziness overwhelm me, my stomach growling, and strong spasm pushes all my stomach content.

My head spins, and my body tries to expel all the toxins I've consumed in the last 24 hours.

Before I can make it to the toilet, I vomit on the table. I can smell the familiar odor of undigested food and beer filling the air. It lasts for about some minutes, my stomach contracting forcefully to eject everything.

Finally, when I maintain my saliva in control, I rush to the toilet for the next episodes of vomit.

I squat down, head over the toilet bowl, and vomit three more times, pumping out the liquid from my intestines.

Once it's all over, I slump down on the bathroom floor, drained of energy.

With little strength left, I crawl out of the bathroom, only to be confronted by the mess I've made on the bar floor.

"Shit, I have no energy," I mutter, noticing my phone buried under a puddle of vomit. "Akh." I grab some paper towels to clean my phone.

I've got stains from my vomit, so I return to my apartment. I take a warm, long shower, burying my thoughts in deep thought.

As clarity begins to settle in my mind, I decide to visit the place from last night.

I drive my car along the same route as last night, then park it a bit far from the site since it turns out to be someone's property.

I park it outside the fence, then trace back the route I had passed last night. Now I can see everything perfectly, and it's not as spooky as last night.

Maybe Sam is right. It could be a wild animal. But from the side of my eyes, I'm certain it was a guy that I hit. If it was an animal, there should be bloodstains to track down.

How do we explain the shoe prints near the bloodstain? I'm wondering if I'm hallucinating, feeling frustrated, and I shake my semi-bald head.

Again, I find nothing. It's scorching hot now, and I've been dehydrated from all the vomiting. I see the water in the river and decide to wash my face.