I’m standing here because I don’t know what happened last night.
It’s something we do every Friday night. We all get together, we pile into someone’s car with as much alcohol as we can drink, we draw straws for the designated driver with whoever did it the last time counted out so they don’t get stuck twice in a row, and we go find someplace deserted, quiet and dark to drink, joke, be friends and if we’re lucky — and there’s a girl or two involved — get laid.
Now I don’t know what happened. The morning sun is burning my eyes and driving hot rail spikes deep into my brain, right through my sunglasses. The steady throbbing in my temples pounds in perfect rhythm with my heart. My memories are a jumble of blurred images, an incomplete movie with entire scenes missing, disjointed words and phrases, indistinct faces.
Something terrible happened, and I don’t know what. I’m going to find out. Or try to, at least. I have no idea where to begin … this is just the last place I remember being.