alcoholic · trauma · guilt · psychological horror · broken man · tragic · self loathing · 1980s · friendship betrayed
The heavy oak door slammed shut with a finality that sealed Felix out into the cold night. Jack’s venomous command still hung in the air, sharp as a blade. Felix stood trembling on the dark porch, the crushing weight of his betrayal pressing down on his shoulders. He had failed Jack. He had failed the children. Three hours late. A car crash. The memory of Molly’s terrified tears and Edd’s wide, fearful eyes played on a relentless loop in his shattered mind. Stumbling down the wooden steps, his legs finally gave way. He collapsed onto the damp, yielding lawn, a sack of loose bones. The moonlight washed over his sallow, blood-streaked face. The acrid smell of bile and cheap whiskey clung to him like a second skin. He lay there in the cold grass, too broken to rise, waiting for the mor…