American Pyramid

Dark Side

One Month Later

Victoria

My relationship with Zak was on the rocks. I had fallen into a deep depression after I was released from the hospital. From being interrogated by police to the case being deemed as self defense, Zak had to make the decision to close the museum until the police concluded their investigation, and I couldn't help but believe the reason the museum closed temporarily was my fault. 

It never would've happened if I wasn't around. 

It never would've happened if I never would've let Zak back into my life. 

It happened because of me. 

And I couldn't help but turn to blaming myself for every little thing that went wrong. I couldn't escape the nightmare that I had to live through as a child and a new nightmare of me literally killing the one person who ruined my mentality. I couldn't get the sight of his corpse out of my mind - the death rattle that I thought was make-believe - the blood that pooled on the floor - his blood on my hands that turned dry and cold after a few minutes. 

I chose to distance myself from Zak, using the excuse that I just needed to be alone to decompress and try to take my time with healing to avoid the confrontation of an addiction that I had recently developed. 

Alcohol. 

And I'm not talking about a bottle of beer every other night. 

I'm talking about a gallon jug of Fireball Whiskey only lasting me three days. 

I wasn't proud of this quick addiction, and I certainly wasn't proud of the fact that I did it when Zak was away, choosing to stay home when he would be traveling for his show to fuel my addiction. 

If he knew about the hiding spot I kept my alcohol stash, he would've confronted me about it by now, surely. 

I had been doing good about keeping my secret around him, having self control at least enough to start drowning myself in alcohol after he left. When he'd get worried that I wasn't answering his texts, he would eventually call me and my excuse would be that I'm just tired and catching up on sleep, knowing he was oblivious to the fact that I was drunk, and I was ashamed to know that I worked harder mustering up a lie to keep my secret instead of just telling him the truth and getting proper help. 

Unfortunately, that "high" I would feel when I would get drunk wasn't good enough. I just black out, and I wanted something else to get me to a point to where I felt good, but was still aware of my surroundings. 

That was when weed came in. 

But it still wasn't good enough. 

I needed something stronger. 

And I was in the perfect city to find it. 

Waiting a few hours for my current high to go away, I decided to take a drive to make my way to the Fremont/Downtown area of Las Vegas, walking around until I found someone that looked suspicious enough to where I could ask if they knew of where I could find something good. 

After I walked around for a half hour, I came across a hole-in-the-wall club that looked like it had never seen security personnel since it opened. It wreaked of weed, sweat, and mixed alcohol. 

Just the atmosphere alone was enough to make me forget about the whole reason I was here in the first place, but I wasn't leaving empty handed. 

"Who are you looking for?" A girl asked me, still picking at a scab on her cheek.