It wasn’t suppose to end this way.
He told me I was going to find out how my wife had died. After searching for years I finally found the man who killed her. The police said they couldn’t find her body and they were never about to find out who kidnapped her.
I searched all over the country. Countless days, even months at a time. No one helped me. Everyone thought I was insane to continue trying, “there’s no way she’s still alive, you need to move on.” I’ll told them to go fuck themselves. At that point, I didn’t care if she was alive or dead. I wanted revenge. So, I kept searching…
…And then he found me. It was in a small bar outside of Santa Fe, New Mexico. He had been tailing me for months. The bastard showed me photos of her: the photos he took right before he killed her. I wanted to know how he did it. I wanted to know and then I’d strangle him to death right there in that low-lit, godforsaken dive full of cheap booze and no witnesses, but the bartender.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, smiling at me, “I’ll show you how I did it.”
I should have watched my drink. He drugged my whiskey. I passed out right there in that bar and now I’m in this casket. Yes, a coffin. I’m inside it, it’s pitch black, and God knows how far down I’ve been buried. Maybe I’m in a graveyard. Maybe in in the middle of nowhere. Maybe this is a dream. In either case the only thing I can do is keep kicking and screaming until someone finds me or I wake up.