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A Lonely, Innocent Night
It was a few days after the holidays had ended. I was on my way home from a wild few weeks with my family and friends. There were still lights on the houses that I passed. When I reached my house I saw all the lights still on. Oops, I guess I forgot to turn those off. I opened the door and entered my lonely, boring house. I went towards the refrigerator and grabbed more than a couple of beers for myself, as if I was sharing them with someone.
The next morning I woke up with a pounding headache. I lay unconscious in my bed for an extra hour than I should of. I looked around the room only to find very bright lights staring directly into my eyes. The room was totally, completely unfamiliar. I heard lots of beeping and very loud, painful voices.
A man I did not know walked in the room, wearing a white trench coat and had a clipboard at his waist. Before I could say anything, the man cheerfully said, 'Well good morning Chris, how are ya today? Feelin alright?'
I couldn't even open my mouth to say something because I was still in too much pain. I still did not know where I was or who Chris was. My eyes were looking around the room, crazily.
'Ah, I see. Still a bit disoriented, eh? Hmm.' The man started scribbling frantically on his clipboard.
'What's going on,' I managed to croak. The voice that was talking did not sound like mine. It sounded raspy, hoarse, totally out of its realm. I was very confused and I felt like someone kept hitting hit back of my head. I didn't remember anything from last night and I didn't even know what day it was.
'Well, I see you don't remember the tragedy that you were a part of, Chris. I think I'll let your worried friend, Sue, tell ya,' the man replied.
A girl, who was apparently named Sue, walked slowly, unsteadily into the room.
'How is he,' she asked, as if I was not there.
'He just wants to know what happened,' the man said, certainly.
'You didn't answer my question. How. Is. He?' she strongly asked again.
'Sue, he's fine. He's begging to get some questions and things answered.' The man tiredly said.
'Chris,' She knew my name?! 'Last night you were crazy drunk. Stupidly, you decided to get in your car. Our friend, Sam, was walking across the street to his house and you hit him. YOU HIT HIM, CHRIS! It wasn't a minor hit either. You KILLED my, your friend Sam,' she cried. She said the word 'killed' as though it was a curse word. It was like she had practiced this all night, reciting her lines, over and over again so she wouldn't loose it.
Finally I knew I was Chris. It took a minute to realize what this all meant. 'Wait, does that mean I did this damage? No, please, no,' I thought. I hoped everything didn't happen. I hoped so much the pain actually started to disappear.
There was so much happening at once, but I actually did start to remember who these people were.
I figured out Sue and Sam were my best friends. Sam, why Sam? He was the friend who I played poker with, the friend who I golfed with, the friend who I did everything with. Why did it have to be him? And why is Sue looking at me like I am some kind of villain?
'Sue, look I-,' she broke me off before I could say anything.
'Don't even say a word, Chris! I am furious at you. You don't even deserve to be living! You broke my heart; you killed my friend, your friend! And you have some nerve to still be here and not remember anything. Because I would give anything to forget.'