#found documents

What is the last thing I remember before waking up today? Tamika. She was in her pink scrubs, leaning down to kiss me goodbye and goodnight before leaving for a graveyard shift at the hospital.

That doesn't explain how I woke up. Or where I woke up. Or why I'm even here.

I could tell my head hurt before I opened my eyes. It felt like a hangover, but I've been sober for 8 years. I was bent over something, like I fell asleep at my writing desk again. There was an annoying sound, a clicking sound. Over and over and over. Not like a clock. Something familiar. I went to move and heard another sound and froze before I realized the sound was coming from me.

When my eyes finally opened, there was a blurry image in front of me. A bunch of lines and numbers. They swam in my vision before becoming one. A car dashboard. The hazards were blinking on and off. My hands were gripping the steering wheel as my head slowly raised from where I had struck it, seeing a drop of blood fall. I touched the top of my scalp and my fingers came away red.

What the fuck is happening?? The pain was grounding as I tried to get my bearings. I looked to the passenger seat, terrified I'd see Tamika looking worse than how I felt - but the seat was empty. My purse was on the floor board and I slowly reached for it, my body screaming with each movement. Hoping something would jog my memory of what I was doing, I opened it. My heart sank as I pulled out a bottle of Xanax with my name on it, weed and pipe, and mini bottles of alcohol. 8 years, down the fucking drain and for what? I felt myself start to tear up but tried to take deep breaths.

Okay. Driving under the influence. Crashing under the influence. That's not ideal, but it's some sort of explanation. But where was I?

Outside my window was dark, except for the orange of my hazards occasionally illuminating the surrounding area. I was on the shoulder of some road in the middle of nowhere. Trees surrounded me on either side. I fumbled the dash for the headlights and flipped them on to see what I hit.

No. It didn't make sense. I still don't understand it as I'm writing it down. I grabbed my polaroid camera and stumbled out of the car and took a picture. It spit out the print with a whirring sound and I sat back in the driver's seat and waited with baited breath as it developed. I don't know why I thought it would show me anything different. Illuminated by the cabin light was a photo of the dilapidated sign I crashed into- welcoming me to the small southern town of Doucet, Louisiana. 

Tamika and I had ran away from here, 12 years ago. We swore we would never come back. As if the universe heard our oath, it washed the town away in some explosion. I never cared to get all of the details.

I needed help, that much was certain. Rummaging through my bag, eventually my hand found a few more things: my emergency flashlight, my Nokia, and my journal. I checked my journal only to find every page that had writing on it had been torn out. The Nokia alerted me that it had no signal, not surprising given the area. Flashlight in hand, I decided to walk - the opposite direction of the town- until I found service, assistance, or civilization. Feeling a little stronger after having a plan, I set out.

I don't know how far I walked, but eventually I saw lights in the distance. Someone was pulled over on the side of the road. I breathed a sigh of relief and my pace increased to a jog. I hoped they'd be able to help. I wouldn't tell them about the drugs of course. I'd tell them I was going to see a family member who still lived there and almost hit a deer. That's pretty believable.

As I got closer I froze. It was my car, crashed against the welcome sign with the hazards still blinking. How did… I turned around again, facing the opposite direction, my breathing labored. It must be the drugs or the possible concussion. I obviously hadn't moved. I tried again, this time checking over my shoulder first, to make sure the car was starting to fade in the distance. As soon as it was out of sight, I sighed, feeling a little bit better. But the horror returned when I faced forward and saw I was walking towards the car again.  I tried again. And again. And again.

I don't know how many times I tried, but the next time I turned my head towards the car I screamed and dropped to my knees. What the fuck is happening? Why can't I leave or find help? Am I dead? I checked for a pulse and felt one - my heart working overtime with panic. My head bled so I'm real and feel pain. I just can't turn away from this town.

Was this town haunting me? Or am I haunting it?

My cellphone sprang to life in my hand, the sound cutting the silence. I saw the name and answered, my voice desperate.

"Tam?? Hello??"

There was crackling static. Her voice cut through. "Al…ice?...Where are…Doucet…hel…" The line went dead. My heart was a sledgehammer against my ribcage as I desperately tried her back with no luck --whatever signal she used to get that message out was gone.