Jake
Oh God, what have I done?
Panic and desperation crash over me in unrelenting tidal waves, dragging me under until I’m drowning in them. I’m sitting on the bed in the guest room, holding my head in my hands and rocking back and forth.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Hours, probably. At some point, I’d stumbled down to the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey. It sits on the floor by my feet, the amber liquid significantly drained.
The alcohol hadn’t helped. I’m unable to numb the tumult that roils inside of me.
I hit my wife.
She deserved it.
The cold, foreign voice slithers through my mind, and I groan, trying to drown it out.
I’ve done a lot of questionable things over the years, some more legal than others. And maybe, just maybe, I’d said things to intentionally hurt Ju
