In Our Darkness - 19. Chapter 19: The Share

“Hi, I’m Andy and I’m an alcoholic,” Andy said standing in the medium sized dimly lit room, talking to a large group of people. Their faces ranged in age, ethnicity, and gender, but they all had something in common, something in their eyes that sought redemption. But if anyone was in a desperate need of absolution, it was Andy. He had finally had enough of living with his dark secret. He wanted the freedom of truth, no matter the personal cost.

“Hi Andy,” the gathered group replied. Andy hated public speaking. But he promised himself, he would finally spill his secrets. He would finally open up and let the chips fall where they may. He wanted to break free of the burden. The guilt of that night. He wanted to share.

He was nervous, otherwise he might have noticed the two familiar faces starting back at him in the crowd. One was his newfound AA buddy, David. The other was a man he saw on and off throughout his childhood, whom he referred to as Grandpa Jack, but whom he hadn’t seen in years. He had fond memories of the man, always giving him a piece of chocolate, or a dollar.

“I’ve been drinking for as long as I can remember,” he started, staring down at his hands. They were covered in a sheen layer of sweat.

“My stepfather was a real mean son-of-a-bitch. His father was a cop, strict guy with a no-nonsense attitude. Tough, old-school man. And my stepfather was rebelling against that, I guess. So he became the complete opposite: a total drunk loser, low-life in every way. He had problems with drinking, drugs, pills, you name it he tried it. He was mean and violent,” he shared.

“But he also wasn’t half bad looking, so there was always a woman willing to take care of him. Unluckily for me, when I was two years old and after my real father passed away, that woman became my mom. He met her and attached himself to her like a succubus. He sucked the life out of her. They had a toxic, jealous, violent and co-dependent relationship. The stuff relationship nightmares are made out of. There was no mental space for raising a child in there. There was no family life. There was no happiness. I was an annoyance to them. A burden. Someone to be ignored. All they cared about was getting drunk, or high. Most of the time, if I didn’t get in the way of that, they would leave me alone and not mess with me. But sometimes, I didn’t get so lucky. My stepfather first got me drunk when I was a little kid, maybe 5. He did it for fun. I got sick, threw up everywhere. I felt like I was going to die. But hey, he got a kick out of it so…” Andy awkwardly paused. This was much harder than he had anticipated. Sharing his most embarrassing personal stories with a room full of people. But he had to go on, he had to release the secret. He had to atone publicly. He couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Anyway, after a while, I started to enjoy it. Alcohol became a friend. Few drinks and I could escape for a little while, and I had a lot to escape from. My mom was drunk most of the time, but she was a sleepy drunk. She’d drink and pass out. But my stepfather, he wanted to have fun when he was drunk. He got energized, and usually I was the only person he could force to join in on his drunken adventures. So, one night, when I was six, he took me driving. He was babbling some usual bullshit, and I tuned out. We were driving down a long, windy forest road at night, surrounded by these beautiful large trees. It really was a gorgeous night. Clear and quiet, expect for his constant talk.”

Andy shivered as he remembered exactly how his body felt that night. Tired and scared. Taking in shallow breaths. Waiting to return home so he could lay down on his mattress and go to sleep, unbothered by anyone. He had school the next day, he needed to get some sleep.

“All of a sudden I saw a pair of headlights, slowly coming from the opposite direction. Paul, my stepfather, saw them too. ‘Is that a fucking convertible?’ he asked me, with some perceived slight in his tone. As if the fact that someone else was driving a nice car was personally insulting to him. I stayed silent, I didn’t even know what a convertible was. ‘Fucking rich assholes,’ he murmured. We were about to drive past them, but at the last minute he swerved into their lane, and drove right into them, with immense speed and force. Just like that. Drove right into them, smashed their car at high speed, and then reversed.” There it was. He had said it, released the burden. Let go of the secret. Now people knew. Something was lifting from him, something dark and heavy.

“We sat there for what felt like a very long time but must have only been seconds. Our piece of crap old Honda had somehow survived in one piece, and neither one of us was seriously injured. I bumped my head and was bleeding, but I was mostly fine. But the other car, it was a complete wreck. I’m not sure how anyone made it out of there alive. But there was a man and a woman. I remember seeing the woman’s head slumped down on the dashboard. Then I saw that the man had crawled out, he was holding his arm in a funny way, I remember that distinctly. He looked so bewildered. He was a wreck. He screamed something, maybe ‘help’. Yeah, I think it was ‘please help,’ I’m not really sure, I mostly remember it in fragments.”

Andy took a deep breath, the memories rushing to him like a tornado. At that moment he noticed someone exited the room, because a beam of light from the outside blinded him for a second, then quickly went away as the door closed behind them.

“My stepfather didn’t help, nor did he call for help. He chuckled to himself drunkenly, and sped away, like the psychopath he was. I was six years old. I figured he was driving to the hospital, the police, or that he would call for help. Today, I know he did neither of those things. My stepfather took me to the woods two days later, where he made me light the match that torched the car. He told me that because I did that, I was just as responsible for what happened as him, and that if I told anyone I would go to prison for the rest of my life, and possibly get the death penalty. That might sound stupid right now, but to a six-year-old…I was terrified. I couldn’t sleep for weeks.”

Andy took a deep breath.

“A few years later, I did a Google search to see if the passengers from that car survived,” Andy said, trying to hold it together now. Blinking his eyes rapidly, to stop the tears from coming.

“It turns out that both of them had lived. They both sustained injuries, but they were alive. I was so relieved, so freaking happy when I read that. Like a dark cloud had finally been lifted off my chest. And then I continued reading. The two of them were okay, but the woman had been nine-months pregnant with a child. The doctors did their best, but the baby didn’t survive.” Andy took a breath, feeling stronger now. He was almost done.

“At the end of the article it said that the culprit was never found. Well, here he is. Today I decided that I would share my story with you all, and afterwards I will have my sponsor Reg escort me to the police station, so that I can finally officially confess and take responsibility for what happened that night.”

He looked at the sea of faces staring back at him, some of them appearing shocked, while others looked unmoved, like they’ve heard worse. He felt deadly calm now. The worst was over.

“Drinking out of guilt, getting high to self-medicate doesn’t help you or anyone. The truth, only the truth can help. Thanks.”

He left the room feeling a hundred pounds lighter. He was ready to go to the police and confess everything, get the whole thing over with. Whatever the punishment, he would face it happily. Life in prison? Sure, as long as he could get rid of this burden forever. He didn’t want anymore secrets. But before he could go anywhere, someone grabbed him harshly by the arm and pulled him into the alleyway.