You know that feeling you get when you're in the middle of a hangover? The feeling when you try to remember what got you here, but you just can't seem to recall anything? The feeling that, between the moments you do remember, anything could've happened? You want to know, yet you're almost afraid to find out. You know how you can remember the first thing that happened before you took that first gulp of tequila or vodka, deeming yourself to be a zombie, sitting slightly upright on your cheap, red cloth couch the next day?
Well, I can partially relate. See..the first thing I remember is sending my kids, Holly and Tobin, to the bus stop at the end of Woodry Street to go to school at..oh I don't know..8:03 a.m. I had made them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with slightly expired potato chips, Capri sun, and a zip-lock of green grapes for their lunch bags. I kissed Darren goodbye before he went off to work exactly four minutes after them.
But that's not just the first thing I remember; It's the last.
This is no hangover. That first sip of tequila? That's the issue. I can't remember. But I can tell you how the "hang over" is going. Holly, Tobin, and Darren were all found brutally murdered in our garage. Side by side, with blood dripping down from a slit in the neck, staining MY initials freshly branded on the skin above their collar bones.
I can't tell you what happened, but I gave you what you want. That's all I remember. Now, can you please let me get me out of these restraints? This is ridiculous.
The doctor wrotedown, word for word, everything I had just told him. "Mrs. Aldren... I think we have something you need to see."
DU LIEST GERADE
Don't Take Three
SonstigesJosie is morning over her husband and kids that were brutally murdered. With her initials branded on their necks, most signs point to her as the main suspect. She seeks a more therapeutic form of treatment to help her through what's happening. Yet...
