The music blasted from the tall, black speakers and rattled my brain. Everything around me was a blur of colors. The only things I could point out were fake smiles and alcohol, lots of alcohol. 

I wanted to go home. I tried to stand up, but my legs were as stable as two cooked pieces of spaghetti. I toppled onto the counter, and I felt a pair of arms around me.

It was my cousin Peter. I saw his mouth move, but I could not hear a word coming out of it. All I could think about were the shots of tequila and whiskey I had poured myself throughout the night, my failed wedding from this morning, and the people on the dance floor.

Girls in their short dresses and high heels and guys in their neon tops and low-riding jeans wriggled around like a bunch of newly caught fish. I chuckled at the thought of them with hooks in their mouths and their bodies flopping against the floor.

Peter spun me around to face him properly. His eyebrows were creased. His eyes were wide open. His hands were firmly wrapped around my shoulders like before. And, of course, I could see his mouth opening and closing, but nothing came out of it.

“What are you saying? I can’t hear you,” I giggled like a kindergartener who was on a sugar high. Drinking always made me giddy. That’s the reason why I drank so often.

His eyes looked at me with disappointment. Letting go of my shoulders, he trudged off into the sea of fish. 

Peter looked back, “I’ll be waiting outside. Just… Don’t do anything crazy. And Ben, please try not to get kicked out this time.” I could barely make out his words, so I just smiled lazily and lifted my drink, my way of telling him to go. I usually appreciated him taking care of me, but right now, I wanted to be left alone. 

I closed my eyes, temporarily succumbing to the loud music and my dull headache. The bass from the speakers echoed throughout my body. I didn’t feel like I was just drunk. Something else at the very back of my head pleaded me to get out of the club. 

I did not listen. I opened my eyes and saw a bunch of fish dancing and wriggling around the dance floor. I was confused. A minute ago in the place of those fish were human beings. Yes, I did imagine them as fish, but I know they weren’t really fish. What’s going on? I thought. 

I grabbed onto the counter and hoisted myself up despite the protests reverberating throughout my body. My muscles screamed at me to stop, and my head pounded against my skull. 

Bartenders morphed into horses and lizards; the DJ turned into a racoon; and the bouncers became moose and rabbits. Maybe I really had lost it. Maybe Adam was right about me. 

I had changed. 

Gone were the nights we would stay home, watch movies, and eat popcorn. Gone were the days of us waking up and seeing each other first thing in the morning. Gone were the afternoons I would surprise him at work with lunch and chocolates we knew I would eat at the end of the day.  

Now, I never went back home. I always stayed overnight at work or at a club or even a bar, drinking myself half to death. Peter would always be the one to take care of me. I practically lived at his place now. Adam and I never saw each other anymore. In fact, our wedding was the first time I had seen him in months. 

I just couldn’t go back home. I didn’t want to experience that ever again. The constant screaming, the terrible beatings, and the ridiculous accusations were too much for me. I didn’t want to go back to that house. I wanted to forget. So, I drank. I drank until I couldn’t remember, until the only thing I knew was the taste of alcohol on my tongue. 

Looking back to our wedding this morning, I guess I couldn’t be too surprised he left me at the altar. After all, I was shit-faced drunk, the usual for me these past couple months. He looked at me, his eyes were drooping, and no amount of makeup could conceal his dark circles.

It was obvious he had been crying and was on the verge of tears when he saw me wasted at our wedding. I felt bad, but the buzz from my drunkenness covered up most of my negative thoughts. 

I was finally getting married to him after all we had been through. Being a gay couple wasn’t easy afterall. However, getting married would be worth the constant judging glances, the brutal beatings, and the spiteful words. At least, that was what I thought before I saw his face when he came down the aisle. His eyes were brimming with tears, and a few made their way down his sullen cheeks. I felt terrible, but I also thought he deserved it for the abuse he put me through. At the end of the day though, he was the man I loved. I just wanted a bit of time away from him and to go back to the time when we were newly engaged. After we got married, I was hoping he would change. I know I would for him. 

I snapped out of my thoughts when I noticed something peculiar. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but I saw him make an expression I had never seen him make before. A shiver ran down my spine. 

I closed my eyes and looked once more. There was no trace of his earlier countenance. I blamed my faulty eyesight on the alcohol running through my veins and the sudden drop in temperature on a defective air duct. 

I smiled at him. Well, I smiled at his back more specifically. He was running down the aisle in the opposite direction. 

My hand lifted from its previously limp state in an effort to stop him from running away. Internally, I screamed at myself to chase after him. Instead, I blacked out.

By the time I came to, it was too late.

The wedding had been canceled. My fiance was nowhere to be found. Everything I had done, everything I had endured for us was for naught. Weirdly enough, no tears came out.

I just wanted to drink. Drinking had become my only friend these past few months. I couldn’t bear to see anyone, not even my loved ones. 

My parents and siblings were disgusted by who I had become. My lover left me at the altar. My friends wanted nothing to do with me. Even Peter was nowhere to be found. Everyone I held dear had left me, and it was all my fault.

All I could do was to keep drinking. Drinking made me happy. Drinking made me forget. It made me forget the hateful words and cruel beatings I endured for my lover, but it also made me forget the loving moments I had with Adam.

I started to reach for another glass of vodka when I lurched forward. I had vomited all over the counter. 

The next thing I knew, or faintly recognized with the alcohol messing with my head, the staff kicked me out of the club. I couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of a moose and a rabbit dragging me out of the club. 

They threw me into an alleyway near the club. I couldn’t stop laughing even when they had left.

Laughing by myself with nothing to laugh at, I sat in the alleyway for what felt like hours. Maybe it was hours. 

My body wouldn’t move, and I had no will to make it. I was cold, but sweat dripped down my lanky frame and pooled at my sides. 

I heard footsteps approach me, but I couldn’t make out the person’s face. I only saw the cold glint of the metal rod before my attacker hit me on the side of my head.

Before I succumbed to the darkness, I saw his face. It was my ex-fiance.

I slowly opened my eyes and looked around the room. It was dark and cold. Windows were smashed, and dust and cobwebs filled every corner of the decrepit room. Lightning flashed outside, momentarily illuminating the room.

A cold breeze came in through the broken window, the wind causing a shiver to run down my spine. I tried to get up, but I felt a strong force keeping me attached to the chair I was sitting on.

Why am I tied up? Where am I? I wondered. The last thing I remember was being thrown out of a club. I laughed at the ridiculous memory until the side of my head sent shockwaves of pain to radiate throughout my body. I tried to remember more, but my throbbing brain made it difficult to say the least.

I thought of the alleyway they had placed me in. Then, I remembered everything. I remembered the shots of tequila, the bitingly cold air, the glint of the metal bat, and my ex-fiance smiling at me.

I struggled against my ties as I tried to break free. It was useless. Panic began to fill my mind, and my eyes darted around the room trying to find a way to free myself from my bonds.      

Finally, I saw something at the corner of my eyes: sharp shards of glass from the broken window.

I scooted closer to the pile and tipped my chair over to reach the shards. I hastily cut myself loose, injuring myself in the process. I didn’t care though. All I could think of was getting away from the house as fast as possible.

Running into the next room, I tried to look for an exit in the nearly pitch black room. Flashes of white light cast ominous shadows on the floors caked with a sticky red substance. I had an idea of whose blood it might be, but I hoped I was wrong. Another flash of light revealed a white couch in the middle of the room. It was the one Adam and I got after we moved in with each other. 

We were so happy back then, newly engaged and as in love as the first time we met. The cold wind brushed against my nape, causing a shiver to rush down my back once more. It was no time to think of old memories. I continued to trek forward. 

There, I saw it. The limp mass of meat and bones was a terrifying and gory sight. Blood oozed down the body and soaked the already tear-and-sweat-stained shirt. My blood ran cold. The air around me felt like it had dropped several degrees, but I was sweating buckets. However, I could not stop myself from creeping towards the body.

The face had multiple scratch marks, much like the ones one would get from a cat. I knew it wasn’t a cat, however. I couldn’t explain how I knew, but I just did. I knew it was Adam. Afterall, he had done something similar to me months ago.

I shook my head, temporarily ridding myself of the unwanted memories. I took a closer look at the face. The scratches made the face unrecognizable, but then, I saw the watch. It was an old silver and gold pocket watch with intricate engravings adorning the timepiece. 

Despite the protests bubbling inside of me, I reached down and traced the patterns on the watch before taking it from the body. The dead have no use for watches anyway. I turned it in my hand. It was heavier than I remembered, but it could have been my imagination. 

The watch’s face was broken, just like its owner’s, and was covered in blood that seeped through my fingers and trickled onto the decrepit floor. I had held it so tightly my knuckles turned white. My shirt felt like it was suffocating me, and my pants and shoes felt like they were digging into my skin.

It was Peter's watch, the one I gave him for his 12th birthday. Adam had killed Peter, my one-and-only cousin, the only one who was there for me the past couple months, and the only one who even dared to go against Adam. 

I heaved and dropped to the ground on my scraped knees and my bloody palms. The room spun around me, and I felt lightheaded. I continued to cough and wheeze as I tried to regain my composure. After I was done, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stood up slowly. 

I had to get out of there. I was trudging towards the exit when I heard a snap. Someone was there. I stood still, as frozen as a statue. I could not move. I could not speak. I could not breathe. I heard it come closer. The smell of blood engulfed me, and I took off running. 

Low-hanging branches scratched my face as I continued to run with as much speed as I could muster. The wind whistled around me as I willed my legs to move forward. My heart thumped against my chest so fast I thought it would jump out of my chest.

Suddenly, my face collided with the dirt and fallen leaves. I had tripped on a crooked stone, hidden by the dead leaves, in my haste to get away from the house. 

I scrambled to get up, but it was no use. He had found me. I felt a sharp pain at the back of my head and succumbed to the darkness once more.

I woke up to the same dark room. The only difference was that the floor was swept clean. He probably thought I would try to escape again. Not that I would though. I could barely feel my arms, and my legs were in no better condition. I stared blankly into the dark.

I just wanted to drink. 

What had happened to us? Why did it come to this? I kept on asking myself questions as I continued staring into the darkness before me. 

Tears brimmed my eyes. I wasn’t crying because I was scared though. I mean, this man was the love of my life. Yes, he had killed Peter, kidnapped me, and abused me both mentally and physically, but I loved Adam nevertheless. No, I cried because this whole mess was my fault. He was no more of a monster than I was. In fact, I was worse than him. 

I was the one who broke our relationship. I was the reason why he turned mad. I was the reason he cried. I was the reason for my looming death. It was all my fault.

I was the one who drank himself half to death every night. I was the one who never came home. I was the one who never told him about my co-workers. I was the one who never told him about my family not accepting us. 

I needed to see him. I needed to apologize. I needed to tell him that I was wrong. I needed to apologize for being the one who broke our relationship. He had done nothing wrong. It was all my fault. Even him kidnapping me was my fault. He had no other choice.

Besides, he didn’t hurt me too much. I deserved to be beaten and kidnapped. I struggled against my bonds. My muscles strained at my effort, but it was no use. 

I screamed out his name into the darkness, hoping he would come to me. I heard footsteps coming closer towards my room until I could tell he was in front of the door. I heard the twist of the door knob.

The door creaked open.