What Lies Beneath

Chapter One

"Today marks the fifteen year anniversary of missing teen Elizabeth Curtis. She had just turned twelve when she had disappeared back in 2004, police say the only evidence left behind was a single red rose covered in what was later found out to be Elizabeth's blood. There are no real leads as to who had taken her, but her friends and family are still optimistic that she will one day return home"

It was the same thing, everytime they spoke of Elizabeth it was always the same thing.

Sighing I reached over, grabbing the remote as I turned off the TV, throwing the remote onto the coffee table.

I leaned forward, grabbing my pack of cigarettes, placing one between my chapped lips, lighting it as I drew in a deep breath, filling my lungs full of smoke.

I leaned back against the chair I was currently occupying, propping my feet on top of the coffee table as I reached for my glass of Scotch, I had quit counting them after my sixth one.

Tipping the glass, the liquor flowed passed my lips, burning it's way down my throat, it's warmth spreading throughout my chest.

Well there goes fourteen years of sobriety, I thought to myself as I finished my glass.

You'd think that the fourteenth of February would be a good day for most, but not for us.

Not anymore at least, that day quit being a joyous occasion when Lizzy went missing.

I still remember it like it was yesterday, I guess it'll be something I'll never really forget.

I had just turned fifteen, just starting highschool, Lizzy had kept bugging me to hang out with her that whole day but I blew her off, yelled at her to stop bugging me, little did I know that, that would be the last time I would ever see her again.

I wish I would have just done what she said, then maybe, just maybe she'd still be here.

Sighing once more, I dragged my ash tray closer to me, crushing the cigarette until the red glow of the flame had turned into ash.

I did this to myself every year, I would always drag myself down with the what ifs and the maybes.

There was no use in torturing myself like this but here I sat, like every Valentine's day, smoking cigarettes until my lungs ached.

Going through family photos and videos all day and no matter how many times I told myself to quit this, that Lizzy wouldn't want me to do this to myself.

I just couldn't stop, I felt responsible for her death, everyone had convinced their self's that she's still alive, but I knew she wasn't.

Looking across the room, I found myself staring at the only picture I had of Lizzy, I couldn't help but think of what she'd be like if she was still here.

She would've turned twenty-seven this year, only three years younger than me.

Removing my feet from the coffee table, I slowly stood up, using the wall for leverage, all the Scotch I had downed earlier was starting to catching up to me, I was quite surprised that I somehow managed to stumble my way across the room.

This was the only picture I had wanted out of the all the ones our parents had offered to me, this one was special, it was the last photo her and I had taken together.

It was her twelfth birthday, our Mother wanted us to take family pictures together.

So we all drove out to the local lake, Lizzy was dressed in this pastel blue summer dress.

While I was dressed in a nice pair of jeans paired with a white dress shirt, our Father didn't see the need to always dress up and take photos on our birthdays, but he did it because it's what our Mom wanted.

I remember asking her one day why we always took photos for our birthdays, and her only reply was that one day we would be all grown up and have a life of our own.

I reached forward, shakily placing my hand on the picture, tears filling my eyes as I kept staring at it.

"I'm so sorry Elizabeth, if I hadn't of told you to leave me alone that day you might still be here," I sobbed out as my knees grew weak, my body soon collapsing to the floor.

Would there ever be a day where I wouldn't blame myself, would there ever be a time where I could go a day without something to remind of the pain.

I had a feeling I was answering my own question right now, how pathetic was I, thirty years old and here I am, lying on my living room floor, five sheets to the wind and crying in a fetal position.

No matter what though, it was like I couldn't stop, and the longer I laid here the more I felt my body grow heavier.

I somehow found enough strength to pull myself to my feet, I don't know how I managed to get to my room, it was a struggle just to put one foot infront of the other.

I stumbled over to my nightstand, ripping open the drawer as I pulled out a bottle of pills.

"I-I can't d-do this anymore," I sobbed out as I poured the bottles content into my hand, I stared at the pills in my hand for what felt like forever.

"Oh God! What's wrong with me," I said as I threw the pills down, I stumbled back as the back of my knees hit my mattress, causing me to fall onto the bed.

I groaned out in agony, curling myself into a ball as I pulled the comforter around me.

My eyes started to droop as my tears subsided, the last tear rolled down my cheek as sleep slowly over came me.

The last thing I remember before everything went dark is a faint knocking sound in the distance.