The Truth in Their Rumors

Chapter 4

        I had only been drunk a few times in my life, and this time was certainly no different than the rest. It consisted of several highs and lows, making me feel almost every emotion known to man. I felt a burning happiness and some sort of desire to fall in love with everything around me, but then in another moment I felt the heat of anger boil up inside me, and in another the sick falling feeling that comes with depression. I realized I could not have what I wanted. Did I even know what it was that I wanted?

        The night was dark and I could barely see anything around me, I occasionally saw the blurred image of a carriage pass by me as simply a shadow that disappeared quickly into the velvet cloak of darkness. I stumbled along the dirt road, tripping over even the smallest pebble, until I reached my house. Its dark figure loomed over me like a burden, a symbol of regret, and yet I had to walk into its arms willingly.

        I trod up the steps of the porch, almost falling flat on my face in doing so, reached for the door while fumbling for the knob. I could not find it; my vision swayed back and forth making it hard for me to focus. Anger began to rise inside of me as I tried many times to turn the doorknob but could not do it. In my frustration and anger I punched the door with my hand so hard that the wood shattered, creating a large dent in the white door.  Instantly I slid to the ground, cradling my hand that was leaking some sort of liquid, which I figured was blood.

        Suddenly a light was shined on my face and I looked up to see a candle being held by someone. I was sure that the light it was radiating was very dim, but to my eyes it burned with an incredible brightness as I had gotten used to the darkness.

        “What the hell are you doing?!” I heard Clara say to me, obviously upset about the door.

        “What do you mean? I was trying to open the door,” I said calmly. I found my words slipping out of my mouth in an odd way to where I found it hard to even understand myself. “What do you think of life, Clara? Do you regret anything?” I asked, immediately wondering why I had even said that to her.

        Then I flinched a little as I heard another voice come from behind me, “Ms. Winchester, Mr. Winchester, I heard a loud bang and just wanted to make sure the both of you are alright.” It was one of the workers that lived on the plantation that came up to the porch.

       “We are fine, Sidney just tripped, that’s all, have a goodnight,” Clara said quickly.

        Once the man left Clara grabbed me by my black overcoat and pulled me up to a standing position. She led me inside the house and closed the door quietly, and with her key she locked the door, and a soft click echoed throughout the entire house.

        “Where have you been?” Clara asked, looking intently at me after she had wrapped my hand to stop it from bleeding. “It is nearly ten at night and I have not seen you since church.”

        “I went to Troy...I mean Mr. Emerson’s house for lunch…”

        “Troy? You call him Troy now? And, Sidney it is much past lunchtime,” Clara stated.