Sins of the Sinister

The small bar was my hide out. When I served time there, I got to escape from my feelings. I ventured away from the problems that occurred in my life. I dodged the disappointed glares, and the ignorant advice I was given so frequently nowadays. Yes, it was a dirty habit, but what would you do if your whole life fell from under you in a matter of weeks? The liquid I drank constantly only drowned out the pain and regret that was untwined in my miserable life. But man, when I did drink it I felt like nothing in the world mattered. I was high in the sky, drifting on a fluffy cloud, not dreading over my insignificant dilemmas. The second I stopped consuming alcohol, was the start of the glorious clouds thinning out, and me dropping back down on Earth, having to commence with my unneeded life.

I consumed massive amounts of numerous drinks, losing count after 13. Trust me, I had many more after that.

“I’m sorry man, but I can’t watch you drink yourself to death,” the bartender said, taking away my drink. I glared at the man for the harassment he had put forward towards me.

“Too late,” I said viciously, not meaning it literally. With that, I got up from the barstool and walked out to the October air. I shuddered from the cold that greeted me, and slouched deeper into my coat. I knew I was not adequate to drive, but I didn’t care. I wanted to leave, and I would be damned if I didn’t. I wasn’t meaning to be cruel, by driving while drunk. I was being a tremendously coward though. Driving away from the bar wasn't just what it seemed like. I was driving away from hurt feelings and unresolved conflicts in my life.

I stumbled around in the parking lot, trying to find my car. I couldn’t concentrate no matter how many times I tried to conglomerate my senses. My vision blurred together, as my thoughts did the same. My coordination was horrid. The ground seemed to jump up at me and twist around in weird angles, causing me to fall and trip on flat surfaces.

Once I found my car, I jumped in, shoved my key into the ignition, and screeched off towards the exit of the parking lot. The petroleum filled rocks flew from under my tires as I made my exit out of the parking lot. I was definitely speeding. I didn’t check to see if any cars were coming from either sides of the intersection. I didn’t check to see if the lights were red, green or yellow. I was a maniac on the road. It was like I was running from all of my problems by car. Speeding away, I left my sister’s death and the emotional break down with it. But running away never solves anything. Usually, it only makes it worse.

The force of the impact was astounding. It left me breathless, clutching at all parts of my body. I heard the desperate cries of myself and others around me, but I paid little attention. My brain was disconnected. The weight of the alcohol in my brain, and the pain all over, I couldn’t think straight. People grasped at my bleeding body on the cement road, cried out helps, and blocked off traffic to avoid the collusion of the two cars- one of them being mine.

I woke to a women shaking me, screaming at me. “You drunken idiot! You ignorant prick!” The women was anonymous to me, I had never seen her before in my life. She had a gash on the top of her head, but it was cleaned and stitched. Soon, 3 male doctors ran in, and restrained the deranged women. “Ms. Johnson! Calm down!” One of the doctors commanded, but she wouldn’t listen. Another doctor came in with a long needle, and jabbed it into her leg. Her limbs stopped thrashing, and her eyes became droopy. Soon, she fell unconscious and the doctors carried her into another room.

“Gregory Jones, you got in a car accident,” the doctor that stayed in the room began. “Good news, you got away with only a few minor scrapes and bruises. Bad news, not everyone was that lucky.” I held my breath, trying to brace my self for the most dreadful news. My grimace seemed to be contagious, because the doctor mirrored my expression. “There was a boy in the car, Jonathan Johnson. He is now paralyzed from the neck down, and is in fatal condition. His time is limited.” He said all his words slow, limpid, so I could grasp on what he was saying.