I jolt awake, heart racing, sheets drenched in sweat. The darkness feels suffocating, like a physical weight crushing me. It was just a dream, I tell myself. But the echoes of my brother's screams linger.

In my dream, I'm back in that nightmarish moment. I hear his cries, urgent and terrified. I rush to the bathroom, door creaking open. And then, I see it.

The tub, overflowing, water swirling with blood. My brother's lifeless body, slumped, eyes frozen in a permanent stare. The image sears into my mind like a branding iron. Where it was once just my brothers lifeless body staring back at me, so too was my fathers, laying in the puddle of blood on my white marble floor, adding on to the mess and mixing with Elija's blood.

I try to turn away, but my legs won't move. The horror holds me captive. I'm trapped in this moment, reliving the agony.

Suddenly, I'm running, fleeing the bathroom's gruesome scene. But my feet carry me in circles. I find myself back at the door, unable to escape.

The bathroom beckons, a macabre siren. I'm drawn in, again and again, reliving the trauma. Each loop intensifies the terror.

My brother's screams grow louder, his eyes pleading for help. I'm powerless, frozen in this hellish cycle.

I wake with a jolt, screaming, my voice hoarse. Only then, I realize I'm not in my bed or anyone else's, I am still sitting on this uncomfortable stool on this sticky bar. A couple drunken men around me watch me before erupting in laughter.

"I think someone's had enough." One of them says as I rub my eyes, ridding the images in my head.

"Hey, you okay?" One dares to asks although I didn't think they cared much. They probably just hoped they weren't sitting next to some nutcase. Without saying anything, I get up from the seat, my head throbbing.

I ignore the way they watched me and the way my stomach lurches and walk towards the back where the bathroom was. The door creaks open to a disgusting sight: graffiti-scrawled walls, foul smelling stalls, broken toilet handles and dirty floors.

I stumble towards the sink that I doubt has ever been used and open the cold water, it slowly drips and I cup my hands under it before splashing my face. As I'm doing this, the lights flicker on the ceiling. However, what caught my attention was the blood pooling out of a stall. My heart begins to drum in my ears, fear grips me as I find myself walking towards the stall.

What am I doing? I need to get the fuck out of here. This is the last thing that I need. But my legs drag me in front of the stall, blood pooling at my feet. I hesitantly reach for the door and it creaks open, revealing my dad's lifeless body slumped across the floor.

Terror consumes me as I back away from the stall, terrified at the scene before me. But as I shut my eyes, the image vanishes and there's silence. I'm alone, in the dirty bathroom of this bar, the faint muffled music filling my ears and I feel hot.

Reality hits now, I need to go home.

—

I feel myself be rocked, my bed moves in waves from what I perceived to be the booze but as I open my eyes to see the small compartment of by now bedroom, I realize I'm in my boat. My eyes squint as I rub them, shielding them momentarily from the sun seeping in through the open skylight above my bed.

This had been a daily occurrence now, days blending together as I float aimlessly on my boat in my self-imposed exile. The once-sharp CEO mind now fuddled by perpetual hangovers.

And to think I bought this vessel on a drunken whim, seeking escape. And now I call it home, my sanctuary as well as my prison.

I've completely abandoned my apartment in the city, it was only a reminder of what I lost. My job, my identity, Elija, whose body I discovered in the bathroom, and Beau.

I refused to avoid the closed curtains and the unused balcony from her apartment, in hopes she didn't come out and see me. I hurt her that last time I saw her, I know I did. Still, I can't bring myself to apologize.

I'd much rather drown in a whiskey than confront the ghosts that haunt me. Here, at least the nearest liquor store is only a five minute walking distance while the bar is basically right past the docks.

J's Bar has become my temporary refuge, where I can momentarily forget everything. But still, the solitude of the boat beckons me.

I get up, my torso still aches from the bruises. Some disappeared and some new ones from whatever I got myself into the night before. I open the fridge to find cases of beer and I grab one, grabbing a bottle of Advil on the way out.

I make my way towards the deck, seeing the sunrise and not caring about the cold wind. As I look around, there's bottles of beer littered around the floor and the table, I should definitely clean this up soon I thought to myself as I swallow the pills with the beer.

"Hey, neighbor!" I hear someone say, interrupting my silence. I turn to face a man dressed in overalls and rain boots, probably the local fisherman. I don't answer as I stare and wait for him to speak. "Your boat's been here for weeks."

"Has it?" I say, uninterested as I dig my pockets for some cigarettes and a lighter.

"Yeah, I don't know if you're aware, but you can't just park it here indefinitely." His arms are now crossed across his chest as he squints at me.

"Don't worry about it, it's not a problem."

The man persists, his tone was holier than thou dressed in fucking overalls and rain boots. "Actually, I do worry. It's against marina rules, you're taking up space. I haven't been able to find good parking in a while."

"Well whose fault is that?" I remark, angering the man.

"You can't be living here either, this isn't a homeless shelter." I gaze at him through bleary eyes, my hangover throbbing.

"I bought this boat, I can park it wherever the hell I want, now fuck off." I say as I go back inside the cabin, still hearing him bitch from the outside but I ignore him, pacing my small bedroom unsure of what to do next. I have never been unemployed, I've always had things to do but now everything seems so meaningless.

So I get dressed and I begin my walk towards J's, knowing that's where I'll spend the rest of the day and quite possibly the remainder of my life, however long that may be.

—

The crack of the cue ball, the laughter of strangers and the numbing buzz of whiskey, this was my happy place. At least until the night lasted. Here, I didn't have to remember what happened back home.

I didn't see Elija's lifeless eyes, Beau's look of sadness and my father's disapproval by the way things turned out. Here, I was free. Here, no one knew me. They didn't care I had it all and lost it all. All they cared about was me lining up this damn shot, making sure I hit the right ball into the hole.

All my troubles, all silenced by the sound of glass on glass. They cheer as I sink the 8 ball and I feel invincible.

But that wears off like the bartenders smile and I am soon stumbling out into the chill of the night, coming across an uber probably waiting for his respective customer. However, I don't care as I climb into the backseat.

"I think you've got the wrong car, man." He says, looking over his phone on the dash, he was waiting on a Thomas. But I don't care as I pull out a wad of cash from my pocket and practically throw it to the front.

"Take me to Clifton's drive." I demand and he looks back at me, a puzzled look on his face as I sip from the bottle I took from the top shelf at the bar.

"But that's on the other side of town." He argues, I take more cash from my slacks and throw it again. This time, he doesn't argue as he cancels his previous client and begins to drive out of the parking lot.

Once in front of the old abandoned home at the end of the cul de sac and I am completely alone, I stumble towards the decrepit house with whiskey fueled legs. I can't believe I ever considered buying this home back from the bank.

My mind goes back to what happened here, where it all started. I can still feel the girl beneath me as I stand above the old creaky front steps. The way my mother was dragged back in the front door by her hair the first time my dad laid hands on her. The way Elija and I were both shoved in aggressively for getting suspended at school, another stupid fight.

The same door my father stumbled drunkenly in the house, no regards for the sleeping bodies inside.

"Fucking coward." I sneer, tipping the bottle of whiskey so that the drink spills. This was no home, it was a prison and it sat here at the end of the cul de sac, vacant and rotting, bankrupt and abandoned.

As I'm spilling the drink, the many memories assault me, hitting me all at once. The many nights Elija came running to me to protect him from my dad, the way my mother tried to protect us but always seemed to fail, being so submissive she practically rid herself of any responsibility.

The many cruelties of my dad lie in this place, the tears, the muffled screams, the torturing all fall under his sadistic grin. I shake with anger as I reach for the lighter in my slacks and I stumble down the wooden steps, creating enough distance.

Without much thought, I light it and throw it in, immediately being caught in an inferno, flames engulfing it, symbolic to my dad's quick way of changing his demeanor as soon as he got home. That anger, that rage that I share.

I thought watching this place burn would be a relief, my personal nirvana. But it feels more like purgatory to me. Still, I stumble back some more and watch, mesmerized at the way the flames swallow the rotting wood, I was definitely doing this neighborhood a favor.

While I stand there, watching the past burn to ash and the way the silhouettes dance, creating a haunting specter, I can hear sirens in the distance but I don't dare to move. I don't dare to speak nor to even worry who might've called the police.

I just stand there, as I try to feel anything, anything at all.