Buried Beneath The Shadows

Chapter 4: FACE YOUR DEMONS

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Present Day...

I didn't usually drink... not anymore anyway, but it seems like the more I drank, the less I worried and then the less I remembered.

So I drank, not to numb the pain but to pass the time.

I deserved the pain.

It was just that day I felt like drinking, and this time the alcohol was clouding my pain but replacing it with contempt.

It was depressing. It took more than a bottle of whisky to get me drunk. I'd have to drink so much that I'd kill myself to get slightly pissed.

I'm happy that Jose wasn't there to see me like this, sat sprawled on the ground against the wall, yesterday's clothes temporarily glued to my skin.

Instead she was at school, cutting coloured paper with multi coloured scissors and learning about animals like everything is okay.

On a day like this, Ana would have taken her to school before she started work. She was dead... gone.  It was so wrong.

My wife was dead and I was calling in sick for my crappy job at the garage.

Why did I think that I could keep this life intact?

I was such an idiot. I needed to leave... or get way. Maybe Jose and I could take a holiday, flee to an exotic island.

I couldn't risk talking to the police... for all I knew all the evidence could point to me. I hid the gun, I dumped the body.

I even cleaned up for Christ sake. It wouldn't be long until someone finds out she's missing, therefore it wouldn't be long before they recover her body buried under the reeds and dirt of the lake.

She came home this morning. Bounding though the front door and calling for her mother but she never came. Instead I came... a sick excuse of a parent.

She kept asking me and asking me when her mother would be home... I couldn't take it. I just kept saying soon. I couldn't do it and I hated myself for it. I just couldn't tell her...

Now, I'm drinking... replacing the acid in my stomach that I heaved out last night.

Though I doubt I could find the son of a bitch who killed my wife at the bottom of a whisky glass...

At around noon I ran out of whisky.

There was a moment of panic when I eye balled the empty bottle beside me, so I build the strength to get up off of the kitchen floor and go out to get some more.

I stumbled out of the doors of the liquor store and squinted at the early morning sun. It wasn't long before I gained my focus.

Something didn't seem right to me and it wasn't the coldness of the air, or the brightness of the sun.

Gingerly, I trekked to my car balancing three bottles of cheap whisky in each hand. With a click of my car keys, the car unlocked.

Carefully not trying to drop the glass bottles, I opened the car door and placed them clumsily in the back seat.

Briefly, I wondered if I had bought enough to drown my sorrows.

It was when I closed the doors I felt eyes on me.

I turned to the left to find a shadowy figure in a grey hoody and black shades stood watching me from across the street.

They leaned casually on the lamp post, arms folded, legs crossed. You could say the feeling was... Familiar, as if I've felt these eyes on me before. Who was it?