I am an alcoholic.
It feels gross saying that, shameful and finite. Most of my social life revolved around drinking at bars, drinking at the movies, drinking at concerts….and then it turned into drinking at home, which turned into drinking at work, and so on and so forth. I ended up on several almost-life-ruining benders, the last of which culminated in my boyfriend Daniel finding me half dead in puddles of piss and vomit, having simply not shown up to work for several days. I finally acknowledged that something had to be done, and agreed to detox at Daniel’s cabin and remain for the next thirty or so days because I couldn’t quite bring myself to go to rehab.
Detox was sweaty, shaky hell (in retrospect, I absolutely should have gone to the hospital), but when I was feeling better, I didn’t mind it here so much. It’s a little one-bedroom cabin in the high desert, 25 or so miles of dirt road to get there, and no one else around for miles and miles. That’s part of why we chose it, because if I decided I wanted a drink, it would be virtually impossible to get one. At first, I felt a little like a prisoner, but we stocked it with snacks and games, and I also had my dog Peanut with me which made it more bearable. I had started hiking a bit up and down the land. It’s undeniably gorgeous, just kind of barren and spiky. It is also incredibly easy to get lost, so I try to stay close. Daniel showed me all around, up the hills and around the junipers, and I was amazed at the wildlife that was so prevalent; lizards, birds, rabbits, I even saw elk once from the distance. It was a beautiful little oasis for me to get back in touch with nature and find some semblance of recovery.
I had been here about two weeks with him, but his time off work had run out. We decided that I would stay behind sans car but fully loaded with supplies, and he would come back for me when he could get away. I had only a little bit of cell service, but there was an emergency radio just in case, so I felt safe enough. The first couple of days it was fine. A little lonely, but peaceful, and I felt like I was getting a lot done. Daniel had printed some worksheets to go with The Big Book, and I was genuinely attempting some kind of introspection. But then a couple of things started to get weird. The first was when I was in the cabin feeding Peanut, I heard the outhouse door open and close. This was strange because it had a loaded spring and a handle that clicked shut. I went outside to check, but nobody was there so I shrugged it off. However, the next day I could swear I heard footsteps and voices passing by my window outside. I jumped up and looked, but again, no one was there. This was also easy to shrug off because when I was detoxing, I had some minor auditory and visual hallucinations for the first time, which really freaked my me and my boyfriend out (again, should have been in the hospital). But then things got weirder.
I was sitting outside on the steps letting Peanut use the restroom when I saw a tall, skinny man emerge from the trees maybe 50 yards away, walking past. Scared the hell out of me. I called out to him, and he abruptly stopped. He slowly turned and stared at me for a long moment before turning away again and continuing on his way. I went back inside with the dog and tried to find a good spot to text Daniel. Luckily the text went through and I was able to tell him that I had seen someone, and it scared me. He told me that there were people dotted around the area, and even though the nearest one was 7 or 8 miles away it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that someone was just out hiking or camping. He told me to just be aware of my surroundings and keep the gun nearby if I felt unsafe. He had given me a few lessons before he left, but I was still tentative when holding it.
After that things were okay for another day or so but the night after that I was dead asleep when I heard a loud “KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK” on my front door and what sounded like low crying. I shot up in complete and utter panic. With Peanut going absolutely batshit, I turned on the lantern, grabbed the gun, and stared at the door with my heart pounding out of my chest. I asked who was there, but once again there was no response. I took my phone to text Daniel, but there was no service no matter where I stood. For the rest of the night there was no more knocking, but I stayed awake for several hours until morning came, and I could breathe again. I slowly opened the door, and there was nothing but sunshine, birds chirping, and a slight breeze. Everything looked untouched.
I was able get service after venturing a bit from the cabin, texting Daniel again how scared I was. He was dismissive and said that I might have been hearing animals or the wind. I was trying to tell him that no, I know what I heard but he brushed me off and said it might have been residual withdrawal and I was just hearing things. He asked if I really wanted him to leave work over some banging on the door. I begrudgingly saw his point, so I let it go. I decided I didn’t want to go to far from the cabin for the time being, so I settled in for the day. I was super uneasy, but everything was normal all day. However, I think Peanut picked up on my unease because she didn’t want to play with her toys or eat her kibble. She silently sat in her cushion while I journaled, painted, or did dishes, occasionally letting out a soft whimper. Even that night, while I was cooking a stew that normally would have driven her crazy, she was quiet. When I had to go to the outhouse, she tried to follow me, but it was getting dark, and I didn’t like her to be outside when the predators started coming out. I did my business and went back inside but paused and looked back. By the steps was the bottom of a jawbone, large and falling apart. This was not inherently unusual in a place like this with cows and elk and a little dog who liked to collect things, but I was almost certain that it wasn’t there earlier, and Peanut had never left my sight. I looked around with intense paranoia and ran inside, locking the door behind me. I brought out my phone to text Daniel again, but there were no bars. I desperately walked around, standing on the bed, climbing up on the dresser, but nothing. Inside the cabin was just the smell of burning stew, the sound of Peanut’s whimpers, and my nervous confusion.
I decided that I was going to get help one way or another, but I had a sickening realization when I saw the spot where Daniel hung the emergency radio empty. Nausea swept over me and I quickly made sure everything was secure then resignedly retreated to the couch with the gun and Peanut. Hours passed and everything was calm. The wind swirled around, and rain droplets hit the tin roof, lulling me into a light sleep until around 4:00 when once again I was jerked awake by a “KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK” and low crying. This time, it was more desperate. “KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK” over and over and over. I shouted that I had a gun and they needed to leave me alone, that I would shoot if I had to. The knocking stopped, and giggling started. There was a sound on the door like they were tapping their fingers, the thumping light and rhythmic. The taps and the giggling started to move, seeming to be moving along the side of the house. I followed it with my eyes as Peanut trembled next to me. It stopped at my window, same rhythmic taps and the giggling growing deeper and more sinister. I flew to the window to open the curtain, but nothing was there. Still, as I examined the land in the faint light of dawn, I swear I saw something crawling on their hands and feet into the scraggly juniper trees.
I waited until morning to go outside, gun by my side, dog safely in the house. I was terrified, but besides the jawbone nothing was out of place or different. Still, something was off, and I realized that I didn’t hear any birds chirping that day. It was completely silent. I desperately walked the perimeter of the cabin site, further than I was comfortable, trying to find service. My phone was not picking up anything. I didn’t know what to do except hunker down, wait for Daniel to return, and pray for service. But as I went back to the cabin door a bad feeling came over me. Inside, I found that the place was in absolute disarray, drawers dumped, food spilled, glass shattered. Worst of all though, Peanut was missing. There were flecks of blood dotting the floor, but no other trace of her. I broke down and ran outside, finally feeling anger. I shouted, screaming my dog’s name, hoping she had somehow gotten away. I walked until I was sore, my voice hoarse and my face covered in tears. This time though, I started hearing the giggling during the daytime, those threatening little laughs. I couldn’t tell which direction it was coming from, only that it was growing closer. I reluctantly retreated into the cabin, looking out the window and hoping I would see Peanut. That’s where I am now, writing this on my phone, and praying that Daniel comes back soon. The giggling hasn’t stopped, and dusk has begun. In the distance, I can see something crawling out of the trees. I don’t understand what’s going on. I wish I had a drink.