Agnostic By Default, Awakened By Design

Chapter Three: The Goodbye I Never Got

The rain kept pouring as we drove, the windshield wipers struggling to keep up. My head felt heavy, and the alcohol I had been drinking numbed me just enough to keep me going. I didn’t want to feel anything—not the storm outside, not the cold seeping through my soaked clothes, and definitely not the reality that Elijah was barely holding on.

The bottle of E&J VSOP, my “balling on a budget” drink, was empty by the time we reached Nicholasville Road. I had started drinking more often after losing my stepdad—my hero—the one who had protected me countless times from my mother’s abuse. Elijah had been there for me when I got the call about him. He held me together, as much as anyone could, while I fell apart. But now, Elijah needed saving, and I couldn’t do anything but drown my fear and sorrow in that familiar burn.

The blackout began somewhere after Nicholasville Road. Everything became disjointed, like fragments of a nightmare I couldn’t piece together. I remember bits and pieces: running in the rain, shouting for someone to help me, the glass bottle still in my hand as I banged on car windows.

Then there was Best Buy. The bright fluorescent lights hit me like a slap, disorienting me further. I found out later I had made a scene—running through the aisles like a woman possessed, yelling incoherent pleas for help. The police were already after me, though I didn’t realize it at the time.

I don’t remember when they started chasing me, but I do remember when they caught me. Something in me just gave up. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the alcohol clouding my thoughts. Or maybe it was the hope—misguided as it was—that they were there to help.

When they loaded me into the vehicle, I glanced at the flashing lights and, in my drunken state, convinced myself it was an ambulance. Relief washed over me. I relaxed and caught my breath, mumbling incoherent words of gratitude.

“Thank you,” I slurred, barely able to hold my head up. “You’re taking me to see him… to say goodbye to my friend.”

I vaguely heard the officers talking in the front, their conversation a distant hum I couldn’t fully process. They seemed to sense I wasn’t in my right mind—my words jumbled and my thoughts scattered from the alcohol.

When the vehicle finally stopped, I braced myself, thinking I had arrived at the hospital. I imagined Elijah lying there, machines keeping him alive, and me finally getting the chance to tell him goodbye. The back doors opened, and I stumbled out, looking around for any sign of the hospital.

But this wasn’t a hospital.