The Traces of Destiny
Amar Utah

Amar Utah, at middle age, had a broad nose, a backward slanted forehead, and a chin that seemed to stop growing before his entire body stopped growing.

He brushed his hair back to cover his entire head, with the help of a sparse-toothed comb that he always carried.

Amar is an alcoholic.

However, he is not the type of alcoholic who drinks every night. Amar is the type of alcoholic whose hands tremble in the morning before drinking his first drink of the day, which he usually spends long before most people leave for work.

Although he liked Heineken, he rarely had enough money to buy anything other than the cheapest alcoholic drink, the Ciiu he drank per bottle.

From where he got the money, he didn't like to say it, but other than liquor and rent, he didn't need a lot of money for anything else.

If Amar has a trait that can be appreciated, it is his ability to make himself invisible, and as a result, he has a way of understanding things about others.

When he drinks, he does not make a sound or disturb, but his normal expression, half-closed eyes, open mouth— makes him look like someone much more drunk than he should be.

Therefore, people said and spoke anything in front of him.

Things they should have kept to themselves.

Amar Utah made the little money he earned from the results of a police tip on him.

Not everything. Only one where he could remain anonymous and still be able to earn money. Only a certain cop is willing to keep his secret, where he does not need to testify.

Criminals, as Amar knows, they have a way of holding grudges, and if they find out who has led them to legal trouble, they won't let it go. So, Amar knows enough how to be careful with it.

He spent time in prison, once in his early twenties for petty theft at a Uni stall and twice in his thirties for possession of marijuana.

However, the third time he went back behind bars, he changed.

By that time, his alcohol addiction was severe, and he spent the first week battling withdrawal syndrome which was the most severe and suffered the most than he could have imagined. He trembled, vomited, broke out in cold sweat and when he closed his eyes, he saw a monster.

He also nearly died, though not because of his withdrawal syndrome. But because after a few days of listening to Amar scream and moan, the other man in the cell beat him until he fainted, so he could sleep.

Amar spent three weeks in the hospital and was paroled because of officers sympathetic to what he had been through.

Amar Utah did not need to finish the year he was still supposed to serve his sentence in prison, he was placed on probation and asked to report periodically. And he was also warned that if he drank or used drugs, his sentence would be reinstated.

The shadow will experience withdrawal syndrome, coupled with beatings, making Amar very afraid to return to prison.

But for Amar, it is impossible to face life calmly. At first, he was careful to drink only in the privacy of his home. But as time went on, he started meeting some friends for another drink while still keeping a low profile.

Later, he began to underestimate his luck. He began drinking on the way to meet them, his bottle covered with brown paper bags or hidden under his clothes.

Before long, he started getting drunk wherever he went, and although there might be a slight warning signal in his brain, which told him to be careful, but he was too crazy to listen to it.

Still, things would probably have been fine, had he not borrowed his mother's bike to go out that night. He had no money, but he went on a bike ride to meet some of his friends at a rundown bar, located on a pebbled street outside the city limits.

There, he drank more than he should and around two in the morning he staggered towards his bike. He managed to get out of the parking area without crashing into another vehicle, and somehow he also managed to ride his bike towards the direction of the house.

Yet a few kilos of meters later, he saw a blue light flashing behind him.

A policeman riding a motorcycle moved closer towards him.

"It turns out you are again, Mr. Amar!" The policeman exclaimed, approaching slowly. Like most police officers, he knew Amar from his track record. The police observed Amar's movements.

"Oh, hey, Mr. Poilisi." The words came out indistinctly.

"Are you drunk again?" The police asked.

"Ah dong sir..... Ngk... I'm not drunk at all." Amar stared at the policeman unsteadily. “I just got home from visiting some friends.”

"You sure about that? Are you sure you're not drinking?" ask the police to convince.

"Yes sir, I'm very conscious right now." said Amar.

"You're taking drugs?" ask again.

"Ngga sir, no. No, I never consume it again." replied Amar.

"You rode your bike in turns along the road" the policeman said.

"Just tired." As if to convey his point, he brought one hand closer to his mouth and yawned.

The policeman could smell the liquor in his breath as he exhaled.

"Ah, come... How many drinks have you had tonight?"

"Ngga, sir, really." elak Amar.

"I need to see if you're speaking honestly, now I'll take you and your bike for further inspection."

"OK, now you really look drunk, because I know the bike wearer does not need a SIM."

The policeman got off his motorbike and contacted someone through his communication device, then he pointed his flashlight towards Amar. "I want you to get off your bike right now and walk straight."

Amar looked surprised that the police did not believe him. "For what?"

"Please do it." the police order.

“You won't catch me, right?”

"Come on, don't make this any harder than it needs to be." replied the police.

Amar seemed to be arguing about what to do, even though he was aware, he was more drunk than usual. Instead of moving, he instead stared at the policeman lingering.

That's when Garin passed by. He rolled down the window and stopped to say hello to the policeman.

"Good night, sir!" the policeman saluted Garin when he saw his presence.

"Yes." Yeah." Garin nodded briefly.

"Is he Amr?" ask the police.

"Ready, right sir, he's Amar Utah," replied the policeman swiftly.

"Oo yes, he messed himself up again" said Garin.

The policeman smiled. "Yes, he looks like that, sir."

"Okay, do you want some fried rice? It just so happened that I bought more," Garin thrust a box of fried rice at the police and then said goodbye to continue the journey home.

"Come on." The policeman returned to Amar Utah who was still staring at Garin's car away.

Although the police reached out his hand, Amar just shook his head, as if trying to tell the police that he was fine, that he could do it himself.

However, it turns out that getting off his bike is harder than Amar expected. When he tried to lift one of his legs, Amar fell down and fainted.

Amar woke up shivering the next morning, completely immersed in his condition. All he knew was that he was behind bars, and that consciousness made his mind go round in circles because of crippling fear.

Little by little, part of the night returned to her slowly. She remembers going to the bar on a bike and having a drink with her friends. . After that, everything was quite foggy until she saw the flashing light image.

From the bottom of his heart, he revealed the fact that the police had brought him in.

However, Amar thought of things that were more important than what happened the night before, and his mind centered on the best way to avoid going back to prison. The thought brought a grain of sweat to his forehead and upper lip.

He can't go back to prison. Impossible. He's gonna die there. He knew it with absolute certainty.

But he's been there. The fear further cleared his mind, and for the next few minutes, all he could think about were things he could no longer deal with.

Prison house.

Battering.

Nightmares.

Shaking and vomiting.

Deaths.

He stood up trembling from the bed and used the wall for balance. He staggered to the bars, looking into the corridor. The other three cells were already occupied, but nobody seemed to know if the police guards were there.

When he asked, he was told to shut up twice, the third person did not even answer at all.

This is his life for the next few years.

He is not naive enough to believe that they will let go, nor does he have the illusion that the public defender will do a good thing.

His probation is quite clear with the fact that any violation will result in mandatory detention, and because of the previous record, it is unlikely this time he can get away with it again. Not likely.

Begging for mercy will not work, begging for forgiveness is like spitting on the wind. He would rot in prison until his case was revealed, and then, when he lost, they would throw away the key.

He raised his hand to wipe his forehead and knew that he had to do something. Anything to avoid a fate that surely awaits him.

His mind began to beat faster, limped and broke, but it was still getting faster.

His only hope, the only thing that can help him, is to turn back the clock and undo the arrest made the night before.

But how could he do that?

You have information, a little voice answered from inside his head.