Okay, so, last night, I told you about the not so normal drive home I had with my family, I know plenty of you doubted it, laughed off what I told you as another one of my crazy little short stories, and you know what, I don’t blame you, I would.
But, don’t tell me you didn’t feel a but was coming. But, none of what I told you was a lie, while, at the same time, none of it was the truth.
How the hell does that work, it’s either the truth, or, it’s a lie, right? Wrong!
How so, this so.
I didn’t tell you everything that happened, and what I told you, I added a few over the top elements.
It didn’t happen yesterday, or last week, or last month, in fact, I don’t really remember when it happened.
The woman, when I saw her, she didn’t glow, in fact, it was the opposite, I almost didn’t see her because of how monotone she was.
I also told you I stopped inches from her, that’s also a lie. I plowed right into her, the moment I first laid eyes on her, there was no second time, no long moments of driving with her image stuck in my head.
You see, I was caught halfway between being awake and asleep, her dirty, grey image standing in the middle of the road like a possum caught in headlights, registered nothing to me. But, when she stuck my car, or, my car struck her, she hit the hood and windscreen hard and I thrust my foot on the breaks.
I jumped from the car, that was true, she grabbed me and told me to watch out for the beast, like I told you before. But, in reality, when I turned around, there was t just blood on the exterior of the car, I saw blood, plenty of blood, on the inside of the windscreen, my wife’s door was hanging open, so I rushed to it, and her empty dead eyes stared at me. I dared myself to look in the back seat, it was the only way, but before I could, my heart jumped as I felt the cold knife against my throat, he hissed in my ear, deep low words, words I don’t remember and then darkness took me.
To this day, I still don’t know why he left me alive, maybe it was a way to thank me for killing the girl, or maybe it was punishment, is that why he killed my family? To make me suffer from taking his kill from him?
It doesn’t matter anymore though, this part of the story anyway, because, soon, tomorrow, tonight, or maybe in a few minutes, I’ll forget what really happened that night, and I’ll be home again, with them, happy, whole, and not here, alone, old, suffering every time the meds wear off, and I sit here waiting for the new round to kick in, until I can be lost in a world of what should’ve been, and not this horrid world of what is.