Chapter 6: The Darkness
As I fall asleep, my mind drifts off into pleasant unconsciousness until the nightmare occurs. The aspect that sends my mind tumbling into terror is the fact the nightmare is more about feel than actual sight. It's dark-very dark. There isn’t any light anywhere, so the visuals of the dream are obsolete.
My brain amplifies my other senses in search of something to indicate where I could be. It feels as if I’m on my back on some kind of surface that is also sandy and rough, which causes my body to feel raw. It’s as if sandpaper is scraping against my skin. The outside of my head feels like something is touching it, but I can’t grab whatever it is because my hands are pinned beneath me. I try to move but my body is limp, having no energy to fight free.
After every few seconds, I can feel the slight touch of something wet dripping down onto my stomach from somewhere above. Suddenly, a flash of light followed by a hollow echo somewhere in the distance sends a tsunami of energy cascading around me. When the flash occurs, it creates enough light to transcend the darkness.
My eyes and brain recognize the shift from darkness to light around me, but I still can’t see. There is something over my head blocking my view of my surroundings. This realization takes a toll on my anxieties, which causes me to become claustrophobic. My breathing increases and I can’t control it.
As everything returns to darkness, my chest tightens and my breathing becomes even more labored. A fight within my thoughts ensues as try to push past my fears and focus on more details of my surroundings. A gut wrenching smell comes over me as I struggle to inhale more air. It smells musty, and gross like old moldy bread. I could gag if it is not that my throat is dry and sore. My head feels woozy and draggy. There is an intense migraine throbbing against my skull. A rhythmic pitter-patter sets in all around me. My brain pushes against my skull in a manner that could easily cause it to burst out of my head.
While being overwhelmed by the repeated noises around me, my ears latch onto two muffled voices. I can’t hear them well enough to make out the conversation or gender, but there are definitely voices somewhere in the near distance. The voices screech to halt as the pitter-patter around me intensifies. Then a series of thuds grow louder and louder from a distance. The thuds come closer and closer at a brisk pace vibrating the surface. Everything goes quiet. Then boom, a low, deep voice right beside me utters something unintelligible.
There is another loud hollow echo somewhere further in the distance as a prick of sorts penetrates my arm. I slowly am very light headed as my thoughts and feelings turn to mush. My senses become dull causing everything to fade away back into nothingness.
I am suddenly jolted awake around 4:30 in the morning. I just lay there unfettered by the bleak nightmare trying to fall back to sleep. But as tired as I am, I can’t get back to sleep. In a state of boredom, I begin fiddling with my phone. I fumble through my text messages, and then call my voicemail. It’s about time I listen to the message my dad left for me.
My heart pounds in my chest faster and faster. “Hey, Ryan. We wanted to make dinner for you instead of lunch tomorrow. We know it's short notice, but if you get this try and let us know by five. We can plan to eat around eight if it's good with you. If you can’t make it, we can stick to lunch tomorrow at 12:30. Mom is going to go ahead and cook the ham today. Oh, yeah. We looked into the situation you were telling us about, and we found something even more concerning. Don’t get all worked up about it. I’ll tell you more in person. See you soon. Love you, bye.”
Wow, what is going on? Was I at the house last night? What situation is he talking about? I should have received that call. There is no reason why it should have gone to voicemail.
Without any warning, I get chills all through my body Nauseous over powers my senses. Did I get my parents killed? I sit up in bed and replay the message repeatedly until the sun starts to rise. While I check my phone for the time and get out of bed, three questions continue to run through my mind. Was I at the house last night? What situation is he talking about? Did I get my parents killed?
The phone reads ‘6:03’ in the morning. Which is actually good news because my painful thoughts are interrupted as my eyes meet the sunlight streaming in through the blinds in the living room. My eyes adjust to the streaming sunlight. The light and warmth of the slivers of sun bring my thoughts into a better place. A place where there is a life for me despite this awful experience.
Seeking some sense of normalcy, I walk to the blinds and open them letting the morning sun gleam freely into the house. Just as the blinds roll open, my eyes meet a dark colored S.U.V speed off down the street. The S.U.V turns down the next road as a police cruiser comes into view from the opposite direction. That was a little weird. Then again, everything is lately.
I watch as the police cruiser pulls into my drive. Two men get out of the car and approach my door. Standing on my porch is Officer Boyd and Officer Walker. Walker looks me in the eye while asking to come inside. I oblige and show them to my living room.
“Sorry, about showing up this early in the morning, but we thought it best to check up on you before the day gets away from us.” Walker says.
I reply, “Of course, I understand. Do you have any possible leads?”
Walker pulls out his notepad. “Actually, yes we do. We had someone call the office hotline under an anonymous name. They reported that last night they saw you and a young woman running out of the house. Were you indeed in the house last night?”
What do I say? I can’t tell them I don’t know. That would look extremely suspicious. There has to be a way out of this that they could actually believe. I’m sure if I was there they have other evidence, so I can’t get caught in a lie. “I stopped by last night for a little while.”
Boyd leans forward on the couch. “Were you there when the murder happened?”
This isn’t going to end well. I get out of my chair and pace in the living room. My fingers scratch through my hair. “I… I honestly am having some trouble piecing that night together.” Not technically a lie.
Boyd relaxes in his seat while Walker writes something in his notebook. Walker then says, “That is completely understandable. This is quite a traumatic event, especially if you were one of the last people to see them alive.”
“I didn’t kill them!” I say loudly. I mean for my strong statement to be an emphatic declaration of my innocence, but I’m left disappointed when it trickles through the room as a question.
Boyd’s forearms tense up slightly as he responds. “I believe you or whoever did this to your parents loved it. Honestly, you don’t strike us as the type that enjoys what you have been through. But if you were there, we need to know what you saw.”
Images of my bloody shirt and the bloody towel from the house entire my thoughts. Suddenly, I’m running out of my room. There is a pain in my side as blood begins to seep through my shirt. Someone grabs me from behind as I’m running down the hallway. Gloved hands clamp down on my shoulder. The pressure builds on my neck as I struggle with my assailant. With one powerful motion, I’m thrown into the bathroom.
My bleeding side stings as I hit the bathroom floor. My body slides to a stop against the shower tub. I struggle to sit up. My hands grab for anything they possible can get a grip on.
My eyes focus on the man in the doorway that is clothed in black. He mutters something to me as my hand reaches a towel. I press the towel against my side to stop the bleeding. The wound isn’t too deep. It's only two inches in length, but my thin blood pours out.
The man returns to the bathroom with a knife and a crooked smile. He mockingly jests me to get up and fight. I lay the towel on the floor as I struggle to my feet. Tears build in my eyes as I stare at the bloody knife. Only a few feet separate us. He cracks his neck and charges at me with the knife held high in his hand.
The images slowly fade back into images of my living room. I’m sitting back in my chair, and I’m looking down at the carpet.
Officer Walker’s voice slowly increases in volume until I can hear him speaking. “… Anything from the house? We need to know.”
I shake my head no. There is no way I’m telling them about what happened. I don’t know who the guy was in my parents’ house, and until I do, I’m not telling anyone. I’m sure these two might not even believe me if I tell them. It would be like me blaming it on the invisible wind.
“Ok. Well, I think we are done for now. We will be in touch. There are still more questions that need to be asked, but right now you need to deal with the trauma and stay safe.”
No kidding there are more questions that need to be asked and answered. I watch out my front door as the Officers drive away. They acted nice, but I could tell they didn’t trust me. My story isn’t adding up well because I don’t even know all the variables. I have no clue what I’m even trying to make add up.
I walk into the kitchen and look in one of my cabinets. Staring back is the final bottle of scotch left in my stash. It’s early, but I could really use a pick me up. Who wouldn’t want to drown their sorrows after living through the hell of yesterday? I pour a glass and gulp it down without another thought. The liquid burns down my throat while I quickly pour another glass.
I retreat to my old trusty sofa and turn on the television. I don’t know exactly what I am hoping for, but the television probably isn’t the best idea. Everton news will constantly be cutting into programs for the next few days. Our town doesn’t have something this news worthy happen every day.
Sure enough, the morning news is reporting on the married couple of nearly thirty years that someone slaughtered in the couple’s home. I quickly turn the channel and settle on ESPN. I stare at the screen for about an hour without really watching anything. Still, I can feel the house and all the sorrow bearing down on me. I have to get out here, now.
I throw on some jeans and a shirt, grab my keys and head out the door racing to my car. My car is one of those half gas half-electric cars that get like 45 miles to the gallon. It is gray and is usually kept clean inside and out. I travel a lot as a hobby so this thing is practically another home to me. I get in and drive away from the house not knowing what lies ahead of me or remembering what all lies behind my wrecked journey so far. But I’m going to find out what’s going on, one way or another. Good or Bad.
Buried Truth Page 6
