Some things even alcohol won’t kill. It might be rotting my liver, but it sure as hell does nothing to stop the memories. There are days when I wonder why the fuck I don’t swallow a bullet and end it all. That seems like a fucked up way to go out. I was hoping the war with the Saints would pan out, and I could have at least gone out in a blaze of glory. Staring at the bottle of Jack I’m holding, I observe that it’s only half gone, but I’m losing my taste for it. The liquor isn’t doing what it needs to do. Maybe nothing can.

They turned the lights on today, but I’m still sitting here in the dark. I like the darkness better. It matches my mood. There’s a storm outside. Rain is pounding on the tin roof, and lightning keeps flashing and casting quick bursts of light through the windows. It would be peaceful to me…if I could ever find peace again.

Annabelle used to hate storms. They scared her. She’d get in bed with me, and I’d hold her while telling her stories to ease her fear. Funny how little things like that are what you miss the most. There’s so many moments to choose from, but it’s the simple times I shared with my baby girl that I miss the most. When I remember them, they feel like they’re burning a hole inside of my heart. Rubbing my chest, I close my eyes.

Instantly, Annabelle’s face is there. Her beautiful smile and those gorgeous blue eyes. There’s so much I miss about her…so much I hunger for now. At the top of my list is the way she used to laugh. God, I miss that sound. The way her laugh could light up even the darkest parts of me. She had a beautiful laugh.

The thing that fucks with my head the most is: I can’t hear her laugh now. I want to hear her…just one more time. I’d give anything for that. Then, I would commit it to memory, because for the life of me, I can’t hear it in my head. It’s not there. It’s a piece of my daughter that is now just a faint whisper. It’s a part of Annabelle that I’m losing, and it’s killing me. Her sweet melodic laugh is gone forever. No one cares. I’m the only one who is torn apart inside, and I can’t do a damned thing to change it. It doesn’t matter how hard I crave it, I can barely hear my own daughter’s laughter. I know one day I’ll lose her completely. All but one thing. Because the only thing that I can’t forget… are her screams.

God, her screams haunt me… they’re destroying me. A real man…a real father would have saved her. He would have found a way. I failed. You read all the time how these parents do amazing things to save their children in times of emergency. Some woman lifted a whole fucking car. I read that somewhere. I was useless. I couldn’t do something as simple as get my daughter out of a car. She was alive. I heard her yelling…I heard her crying for me. I heard her begging for me. “Daddy!” she cried out in full panic. I tried to get to her. I tried so fucking hard, but it was all for nothing. I failed her. I failed my princess. My scars are a permanent reminder. A reminder that I am a failure.

A large crash next door makes me jerk, and I do my best to push the thoughts of Annabelle away. My hands are shaking. Fuck, I can even feel tears as the wetness pools on my face. This is what I am now…a fucking drunk who cries alone in the dark. I hear another crashing noise, and it’s closely followed by a loud scream. I put my whiskey down and stumble to look out the window. A tree has fallen in my neighbor’s backyard. It looks like it missed the majority of the house, but clearly part of the tree crashed through one of her back windows. I start to turn away, going back to lay down. That’s when I see her come outside in the pouring rain.

What the fuck does she think she can do? Is she going to try and move the whole tree? Doesn’t she care that she’s carrying a baby?

A better question might be why the hell I care. She’s nothing to me. Just another selfish, stupid woman. I walk back to the couch, dismissing her. She’s probably just like Jan. Obviously, she doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body. I grab the bottle and take another swig. Maybe I can drink until I pass-out. Closing my eyes, allowing the memory of Annabelle to come back to me, I will it to never leave.

“Daddy,” her voice calls out to me. She’s reaching for me, and I need to touch her. I extend my hand, trying to do just that—take her outstretched hand in mine. I can almost feel her. Then she’s gone, her voice… it disappears when the sound of an engine rumbles. I drop the whiskey bottle, not caring that it lands on its side and pours out onto the old wooden floor. I walk to the window, my head swimming, and I’m not sure if that’s from the alcohol or from the strength of the memories. Lightning streaks through the sky again, and I see that crazy-ass woman standing in the pouring rain holding what looks and sounds to be a fucking chainsaw.

“Son of a bitch!” I growl out. I should get out there before she gets herself killed. She’s a fucking lunatic.