Tomorrow Today

I’m not sure who’s ever going to bother reading this, but sometimes I can’t help but feel that the world has rotted away. No, I’m not one of those people that think that religion has anything to do with it. I just walk the streets every day and I’m reminded by the vehicles floating above my head that people look down upon me and my peers in the literal sense. I have a six-figure salary and I can hardly keep the lights on. My significant other has all but given up on me. I drag myself out of bed every day to make sure that our world doesn’t end, but she sees no point in it. My whole body aches when I see her laying on the couch with her eyes burning red into the OLED screens.

It’s raining today. There’s a strange stench in the air that I just haven’t gotten used to yet. I didn’t grow up in the city as she did. She always says that I’m crazy for thinking that the weather has a smell like gasoline or charcoal, but I’m sure of my senses if not anything else. The only thing that broke up the monotony used to be the holo-signs, but they’re all starting to look the same despite the dazzlingly bright pinks, blues, and greens - any obnoxious color to coax you into buying a beer or a new car. My feet kicked through the puddles made in the concrete that’s all but been ruined by thousands of footfalls eroding away at it every day like whittled wood. They made for good places for the stray animals to drink out of.

My hands always felt absent when I walked. They were tucked into my pockets; fiddling with a stray thread, but these new clothes hardly even had such a thing. I guess that I was just used to having those old shirts that my dad gave me. You know the ones: the old flannel with the plastic buttons that turned yellow from smoking. That was before they banned cigarettes of course. I used to fidget with those and my phone. Now all of that cell stuff was an earpiece and an e-contact. No hands needed.

In my rainy walk, I pull up my hood. I felt the plastic-like “fabric” between my fingers. Just another reminder that people didn’t make stuff like that for cheap anymore. Hell, this thing cost me about three hundred. Anything that wasn’t nylon was easily at or above three thousand. The purr of the volcars above drowned out an alleyway deal that I passed by. Some guy was ashamed at the fact he turned over seven hundred for a pack of cigs still in the wrap. I don’t blame him. The vape stuff just isn’t the same. There was something about the warm feeling of imbibing in the old vices: whiskey, pot, and cigarettes. It felt real. It felt like you weren’t living in an age chewed and spit out by plastic and synthetic lab-made nonsense.

There’s this old restaurant that survived the pandemic era. Motley’s. I liked to have a drink there, ‘cause the owners had good deals on cheap cigarettes and actual booze. It didn’t occur to me when I left my apartment that I was headed right towards it. I guess my subconscious is better at knowing what I really want.

I push through the door and hear the tingle of that stupid little bell to be greeted by the atmosphere choked out by cheap liquor and lemon-scented bar cleaner. There were two cops at the bar, both still in their uniforms. I noticed that they had taken their cameras off. One was a guy in his thirties. The other was much older with graying hair under his hat. They both had cigarettes between their lips and a pack between them and the bartender. That particular part of the place was swirling with smoke, but no one gave a damn. Everyone was just happy to know that this place still served that kind of stuff.

I sat down at the bar a few stools away from the police guys. The bartender excused himself and made his way over to me.

“Hey Os. What’s new?”

“Nothing,” I replied with a forced smile, “can I just get the usual?”

“Sure, buddy. Gimme just a sec, a’ight?”

“Yeah. Take your time.”

I noticed the ashtray in front of me. Glass. It said “Warrior, Be One”. Cliche nonsense. Some stupid college kid came up with that after getting a degree in graphic design. Company probably stripped his name from it and everything. Damn shame, too. He definitely makes less than I do, and I just play and mix music for a living. I was stirred from my overly contemplative thinking when a heavy glass was put down in front of me. Somehow, the golden beer and fluffy head within was the brightest thing in my day.

“You’re thinking again, Os. That’s dangerous” he teased. I knew Danny for a long time. He was one of those guys that always had something out for someone. The type to blame all of his problems on the government or the media before it was cool. He was going bald now and that made his face, that otherwise maintained a youthful appearance, look ancient. I don’t know why he didn’t shave. A fellow like him with olive-colored skin and a real strong jawline would look good clean like that. One thing is for sure, he always had these intense eyes and low cheekbones that made his laugh lines cast shadows around his thin lips. He had this big, perfectly round nose that made him look like the jolliest guy this side of the country. Behind all that was a bitter and resentful man that was screwed out of his youth by being stuck at home for two decades but, like the rest of us, he made the best of it. He owns the bar after all.

“Yeah. Just been a rough couple of days is all. Had a bunch of studios declare bankruptcy on me. Y’know, the kind of bankruptcy where you don’t get nothin’ back.”

“Ah shit, Os,” he sympathetically lamented, “I’m sorry to hear that, man. Hey, you know that I could always use help around the bar? Fuck, who knows, maybe you could help me get karaoke night going again.”

“Danny, are you trying to bullshit me into thinking that karaoke night was ever a thing to begin with?”

“Hahah! Fuck you, Os. That beer’s on the house - but just the first done. Don’t go thinking that I’m gonna let you drink for free from now on, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks. Anything going on lately?” I asked in a way that didn’t imply anything more than a “how’re you”.

“Yeah, actually, there’s a lot going on.” Little did I know that I was about to open a real can of worms here that I didn’t need to hear about. Danny started to tell me about how people are actually getting physical proof of these politicians pocketing tax money that was supposed to go to local safety net-type stuff and that the politicians under scrutiny were getting killed. I wanted to grab Danny by his collar and scream at him, you fucking dope, do you really think that those greaseballs haven’t been doing that since politics have been invented? But I didn’t. I liked Danny a little too much to scream at him about that kind of crap. I’m sure he heard plenty of it from his boyfriend and the rest of his family. If Danny were born a century ago, I’m sure he’d have a room with a wall covered in a collage of photographs and schizophrenic-like notes about how this bastard had that bastard killed to hide a dirty secret.

By the time he got done chewing my ear, I was one of the last people in the place.

“Danny, you prolly gotta close up. Lemme get out of here and go home. Claire doesn’t even know I left,” I explained in the most polite way I could muster after five beers.

“Alright, alright. My bad. I’ll put this shit on your tab so you can bounce without any strings. “G’night man. Don’t get into any more trouble, a’ight?”

“I don’t get into trouble. You’re the dumbass that’s bringing cops into your joint” I joked as I pulled my hood back up. He just laughed and gave me another “fuck off”.

It was still raining. It was really coming down now, actually. The rain struck me like cold bullets before I even had the chance to pull my hood up. The streets were alive now that the LEDs were burning. People were walking, talking, and openly passing each other booze and other (probably illegal) substances without a cop in sight. I guess they didn’t give a damn like anyone else here. We’re all in the same boat, and I’m sure those guys have a lot more to worry about these days than a few cigarettes or sidewalk boozers.

I climbed the stairs, careful not to slip on the steps. I did that before and nearly lost my teeth. I reached for my pocket for my keys that didn’t exist. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the idea that I’d just have to look at a lock to open my door. I shook myself off before I stepped inside. Claire had passed out on the couch with some hacky movie reboot on the TV. I could see through the window into the kitchen that she ordered take-out. Damn. Here I was sitting in a restaurant and didn’t think for a second to order food. I would have felt bad for eating without her anyway. I went and fixed the blanket over her and kissed her on the head. She rolled to face the inside of the couch. I knew she was probably cold, but the big-feeling side of me thought that, even while she was asleep, she didn’t want anything to do with me.

I quietly ate in the kitchen so as not to wake her. Artificial beef and noodles with lab-grown vegetables. They don’t call it “lab-grown” though. They call it “eco-friendly” as they did on stuff that was actually good for the environment a century ago. I found myself staring at the wall for a little while. It wasn’t quite white, but it certainly had a deficit of color. It reminded me of the old jobs that I worked with concrete floors and bleach-white walls. I’d go hours just preparing food with no one to talk to. I wasn’t allowed to listen to music because they were afraid I’d miss a phone call and, believe me, it was hard to miss a call from that thing. The volume was so incredibly loud that I was sure you could hear it through three brick walls. During the few years I worked there, I found out how isolating the color white could be. It damaged my mind beyond repair when I was a kid. I started to have all sorts of crazy thoughts about demented things that a sixteen-year-old shouldn’t be thinking about. What happens after death and what the fuck is the point of working a job like this if it’ll never take me anywhere? Some people just told me that I was disillusioned, but I found myself crying on the floor after everyone else had left for the evening, wondering why humanity was just so goddamn cruel to itself and how we just accept that we’ll never be anything unless we exhaust every bit of energy to get what we want. Even then, there’s a chance that you’ve spent years working hopelessly on the wrong things. The pandemic era certainly didn’t help any of that. I spent years just sitting in my room, rolling from my desk to my bed whenever the clock went past 4am. That was just normal. It still is, honestly.

Something hit me, hard. Like one of those dreams you have about being late for class. I had to get something mixed and sent by tomorrow morning. Fuck.

I woke up to horrible pain in my neck and a gentle shake. It was Claire. She had a look of concern on her tired, yet pretty face.

“Os, what’re you doing sleeping at the desk again? The bed is right behind you, silly.”

“Whuh… Yeah… I-I’m sorry,” I groggily apologized as I lifted my head from my desk.

“I got breakfast ready in the microwave, so it's ready whenever,” she explained, kissing me on the head, “I gotta get ready to go.”

“Go?” I asked, confused. She never wanted to go anywhere anymore, so either this was really good or really bad.

“Yeah. I got this job interview. It's a programming job. Figured I’d finally put that degree to use and help shave off some of our debt,” she explained with a smile. I didn’t have any idea how to tell her how proud I was, and I didn’t Goddamnit, I don’t know why I didn’t just pull her into a hug and hold her. I’d like to say the lack of sleep boggled my mind, but that’s such a cheap excuse. All I mustered was an, “Okay, that sounds good.” She kept on her smile and kissed me on the temple one more time before mussing up my hair and leaving. I heard her grab some things as I peeled my sweaty shirt off to slip into something more comfortable.

“Did you get that audio in, baby?”

“Yeah,” I chuckled, “I completely forgot about it until midnight last night.”

“Oh -” she snorts, “you dope. I told you not to put that off. I’m glad you got it done. Don’t go to the bar unless you literally have nothing else to do,” she gently scolded.

“How’d you-”

“Danny called this morning to check up on ya. He doesn’t do that unless you had a few too many, Os.” She looked over her shoulder at me with the most wicked grin on her soft lips. She knew she caught me doing something I shouldn’t have because I never went to the bar unless I had way too much on my mind and, frankly, I did. “We’ll talk about it when I get home, sweetheart. No drinking today, okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m sor-” I began my apology before she promptly hushed me. “Don’t be sorry. I just want you to talk to me is all, alright?”

“Alright, Claire. Yeah. I…”

“I love you too, dummy.” She approached me wearing a knee-length gray skirt and a pressed white blouse with a suit jacket that matched the skirt. It was so nice to see her in something other than pajamas or sweatpants. Her straight, blondish hair was all put up in this bun that let me enjoy the shape of her face: round, soft, and petite. She had bright blue eyes when her hair wasn’t covering them and a perfect, petite little nose, but she hated it when I called her perfect. High cheekbones and a full-lipped smile with pinkish-red lipstick. She threw her arms around me and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I don’t care what she said. Claire was perfect to me.

“I’ll be back at five-ish, okay?”

“Alright. I’ll get dinner?” I asked. She nodded with a smile like she was proud of me for whatever reason.

As the door shut, a lulling silence began to set in. Not completely silent. Relatively speaking, the city outside was quiet. Even if Claire was asleep, it still brought me comfort to know she was nearby and I guess I wasn’t used to being alone in the flat. The first thing I needed to do was shower. I knew she was trying to be nice, but I smelled like roadkill. As I waited for the water to heat up, I began skimming the news on the tablet. Nothing like sitting butt-naked on the john and skimming headlines. Danny was onto something, it seemed. These politicians were getting picked off one by one. Each of them had plenty of dirty laundry and whoever was doing these killings was happy to air it out. The president gave another speech full of empty promises as she always did. She talked about how “these killers will be brought to justice” and “how we as a nation cannot stand for this”. Give me a fucking break. Maybe at some point, the people cared about officials getting assassinated, but everything is so deep in the swamp that we might as well hit the reset button. Damn. Starting to sound like Danny.

I freshened myself up and decided to take some time to mix my own stuff and throw it online. Maybe someone will notice me for being anything more than the b-guy in the music industry someday, but today isn’t that day. Hell, tomorrow isn’t either. I checked the message I got from my customer telling me that the mix I sent them was alright and that it could’ve been better. They feigned gratitude by informing me that, “I’ll pay you in full, but I expect better next time”. As if there was going to be a next time. I knew the work wasn’t that great, but I’m making peanuts here anyway. Wasn’t there an old saying about how you get what you pay for? Champagne taste. Beer budget.

I sat at my desk drumming my fingers against the faux wood in a desperate effort to establish a rhythm for the garbage I was slapping together. After an hour, I had something that I maybe would have made in high school. Fuck it. Art as a whole is a strange thing. Sometimes you feel like you have to force yourself to do it, but somehow you still enjoy it. I took the mix with me out the door as I went to grab dinner. It was getting near five anyway, and I didn’t want Claire to come home hungry after I didn’t do anything all damn day.

It wasn’t raining, but I still threw my hood up. I felt anything but social today. The neon lights easily trumped what little sunlight was coming through the skyscrapers and dull streets. It was a high-smog day, so I decided to pull up my mask too. I bet I looked like a bonafide burglar right then.

I heard a strange and pained hum come from above me. It sounded as though a machine was crying out in pain as I watched this volcar slowly descend from three stories above me onto the street below. It was long, sleek, and jet black. It seemed to reflect every neon and LED sign like a dark mirror. I could feel the heat from this thing from a block away as it landed near a corner in its gentle descent. No way could they be coming here for anything. They probably ran out of fuel, and that was really expensive to get it gassed up outside of a station. A crowd of people began gathering around the multi-million dollar vehicle with great interest. A door flung up and out like a raven’s wing. Out of it stepped a man dressed in a dark navy suit with a black dress shirt and a black tie. He was out of style and, if you knew anything about the city, that’s what the feds dressed like. Someone was in major trouble. Before I knew it, another two men dressed quite similarly began making their way down the sidewalk in my direction. I kept walking and looking back at them, wondering what idiot got themselves caught by federal agents. Not my problem. Dinnertime.

I got the usual takeout: burger and fries with a couple of shakes. Can’t go wrong with that. We’ve been eating them for two centuries or so. The only thing that changed was the artificial milk and lab-grown beef. I guess it was better for you anyway. That, or it gives you cancer and the companies pay as many people off as possible to keep that under covers. I made my way home and noticed that the volcar was gone. I checked my e-contact and it read just a smidge after five, so I was making decent enough time. That was before I realized that the Volcar was now parked outside of my complex. My neighbors could be pretty shady, but I didn’t take them for being this bad. I headed inside and began making my way up the stairs to find the men in suits talking to one of my neighbors, Joanne. She looked over one of the fellow’s shoulders and pointed at me. I didn’t really hear what was exchanged, but I saw these feds start making their way down the stairs towards me with intent. I really didn’t know what else to do. I felt that fight or flight shit in my chest like I was some rat cornered by a handful of alley cats. I backed up and one began to reach for their hip. I felt the urge to jump down the stairs, and I acted on it. I began to pump my arms as my legs carried me in long, desperate strides. I could hear them yelling at me to stop as I smashed my arm through the door to the outside. I didn’t hesitate. I made a quick right down the alley and threw myself into a dumpster, quickly closing the lid. I hate to admit it, but this wasn’t the first time I ran from cops. Obviously, it stunk inside, but that really wasn’t what I was worried about right now. I heard the cops talking to each other about splitting up and their hard-soled shoes striking the concrete as they took off in different directions. Something seemed off. I had no idea what was going on or why one of those assholes would pull a gun on me, but I figured one of them would’ve had the sense to stay at the apartment to wait for me to come back.

After getting a little too friendly with a raccoon for about half an hour, I slipped out of the dumpster and back upstairs. The food was ice-cold by now but, again, that was the least of my problems. Of course, the assholes tore through my flat and dumped out my drawers. All of Claire and I’s stuff was all over the goddamn floor. Silverware, clothes, tech, you name it. What in the hell were they looking for? I wondered aloud. Claire was nowhere to be found and she certainly hadn’t messaged me as it would’ve popped up right in my face if she did. I tried to call and message her for nearly an hour but got nothing. Fuck, this isn’t good. God, I hope she’s alright. I kept mulling over all these ridiculous possibilities in my head but not one of them made any sense. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what was going on. I sent one last text to Claire letting her know what happened and that I’d be at Motley’s until shit cooled off. I quickly got out of the trash-scented outfit I was wearing and hopped into some clothes that those gentlemen left out for me. I went to my nightstand to grab my pistol but, surprise surprise, the suits took it. Fuck. I just grabbed my old switchblade that they left behind and tucked it into the back of my pants. I stepped into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror: a patchy beard that was finally starting to fill out on my face, brown eyes, pale skin, curly dark hair - everything looked right, but I felt different. I felt as though something was happening right underneath my crooked nose, but I was too stupid to see it. Danny’ll help me figure this out. Even though he’s an old bastard sometimes, he always knows what’s best when it comes to situations like this.

Call me paranoid, but I wanted to do everything possible to avoid those suits. I weaved through alleyways and buildings rather than risking taking to the street. The last thing I wanted to do was be right out in the open for those vultures to catch me. I moved my knife from the back of my pants to the pocket of my jacket. My fingers moved about the plastic handle, covering it in sweat as I nervously fidgeted. I’m not a fighter. I’m anything but a fighter. In high school, I got beat up because I picked a fight with a kid a foot taller than me. It was stupid. We were fighting over a girl that thought that we were both nerdy losers anyway. I guess we mutually wanted to show her our “alpha” sides. What a joke. Funnily enough, we both became good friends after that. I don’t really talk to him anymore, but damn did I wish he was here to help me out, but old Paul joined the military. Poor guy just couldn’t catch a break. He told me that he just wanted to get out of his bad home situation. I understood why now more than ever.

I began to mull over the who situation in my head. I’m not exactly a model citizen, but I certainly haven’t done anything to warrant feds digging through my place. Claire? No. What the hell could she have done? She’s unemployed, plays video games, and cooks every now and then. Today was the first time I’d seen her dress up in probably a year. I just always get so excited to see her in her business wear that I couldn’t think. She was incredibly discouraged after being harassed at her old tech job by some creepy old department manager a few years back. I helped pay for the lawsuit and we won a decent chunk of money. We decided to move into the flat we’re in now. If we hadn't won that case, we’d be homeless. I’d heard that the guy that lost all that money became a politician and was running this election. Last thing I’d ever give that pig was my vote.

I pushed the door to the restaurant open with my free hand. Danny was exactly where I expected him to be: behind the bar. Trouble was he was talking to one of the suits that was looking for me. I kept my head down and made my way to the bathroom. Even if they weren't, I felt like every single person in the place was staring at me before I disappeared. I made my way to the back stall. I never bothered to look into it, but I think that I have claustrophobia. Would explain why I hated restroom stalls so much. I checked my messages to find that Claire still hadn’t messaged me. I really hope that those assholes didn’t take her. As I thought more about it, I began to wonder why this was happening in the first place.

Suddenly, there was a knock on my stall. I gulped and took a deep breath. “Occupied,” I meekly replied.

“Ah, sorry,” the voice replied. It sounded like an older guy, 40s maybe. He had enough rasp in his voice to denote that he was a smoker. There was a long silence and I let out a sigh of relief before a foot was slammed into the door with an incredibly loud bang. The plastic door hit the wall and fell from the hinges as I leaped forward with the knife in my hand. Another bang came from the man’s gun as I felt my ears begin to rattle and ring. My heart was beating so unbelievably fast that I hardly felt the stinging headache that was about to set in. I threw my weight against this guy that was in significantly better shape than I was. He began to strike me with his pistol as I dug my measly three-inch blade into his side. Once. Twice. Three times. He was fighting back and I began to feel faint from all the blows to my head the suit made. We both fell to the floor and my opportunity arose. The words be a warrior began to echo in my ringing ears as I meekly mashed my knuckles into his face and sunk my knife into his neck. I felt a sharp pain in my arm as I cupped my hand over the other, pulling it fiercely to the side. I heard him gurgle and twitch as he continued to fight. I struck him in the head again using my elbow. I pushed my hand to his chest to stand myself up. I watched as he spasmed on the floor. The scent of blood marinated with piss to create a truly awful stench. I’d never killed before and I found myself staring for what seemed to be minutes. I heard someone make their way into the bathroom. “What the hell is going on in here?” Danny. Thank God it was Danny.

“D-Danny, Danny, Danny… Y-Y-”

“Os - What the - you’re covered in - What the fuck happened?” As he asked the question, his eyes traveled to the floor to find the suit and a small pool of blood beneath him.

“M-Motherfucker tried to shoot me…”

“Goddamn, Os, he did shoot you. You’re bleedin’ real bad - Lemme call an ambulance-”

“No, no,” I heaved as I began to make my way over to him, “I have no idea why b-but these guys - these… feds - are after me. I got this feeling that they’re after Cl-Claire too, but-”

“Forget it for right now, buddy. I understand,” he quickly hushed me and began to lead me from the bathroom, “go upstairs. You know where the medicine and stuff is?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Alright. Give me five,” he quickly muttered, sticking his finger in my face, “do not under any circumstances fall asleep ‘cause that’s lights-out if you do.”

“Y-Yeah…” Danny clapped me on my good arm and I made my way upstairs. Now I knew people were staring at me, but my dark clothes hid most of the blood. Couldn’t hide the bum arm I was nursing though. I followed his instructions exactly and did my best to wrap up my arm. Funny how that kind of stuff starts to hurt well after the fact. It stung worse than anything I could’ve imagined. It was like a worm dug its way through my arm and ate everything on the way out. Trouble was, I couldn’t find an exit wound.

Danny found me half-awake in his bathtub and finished where I started. He gave me a slew of information that I, without a doubt, didn’t catch any of. It reminded me of school when you were so tired that you just couldn’t listen no matter how hard you tried - no matter how much you needed to know what you were hearing. The body was louder and it demanded sleep.

I woke up on the couch, slowly coming to. My arm still ached worse than anything imaginable and all of it started to come back to me: the feds, my apartment, the guy in the bathroom. Seemed like one horrible nightmare. I wished it was. I checked my e-contact that had been in far too long, making my eye burn in protest as I checked notifications. Claire. I bolted up and instantly regretted it. Pain surged through my body like an amplifier and threw me right back down onto the couch. I had one message from her, but that was enough: “meet me where it happened”. I messaged her and asked where she meant but my message didn’t go through. Bad gateway. She sent that three hours ago, so I was already running very, very late. How was I gonna explain that to her; how was I going to explain that I didn’t see her message because I was busy stabbing a cop to death in the bathroom of a crappy restaurant? I felt a cold sting that echoed through my chest: the kind of pain that you feel after a bad breakup. It ached. I killed someone. I know he was trying to take my life, but I couldn’t convince myself of such an excuse. I began to sweat and groan. I needed to get the hell out of here and find Claire.

I shakily took to my feet and found some clothes in Danny’s closet that were too big for me. I threw them on anyway and kicked on my sneakers. While I struggled to dress, I was rolling over in my head what she could have met by “where it happened”. There are a lot of things that happened in a lot of different places between the two of us. Did she mean our flat? The bathroom where I - No. That wouldn’t make any sense. Danny’s apartment was right above where that fed attacked me, and I know she would’ve found me by now. His flat was a decent place but it was covered in sports paraphernalia. Not my shtick, but more power to him. As I made my way to the door, it occurred to me where she meant. It was across town, so I called for a cab. I just hoped I wasn’t too late.

I hopped into the car and told the driver exactly where to go. I felt like a jerk cause I told him that I didn’t feel like talking. I’m sure he needed a chat to keep him awake considering it was well past midnight. I felt my eyes glued to the window as I watched the street roll by. Not once in the two years that I’ve lived in the city did I feel so unsafe - so watched. I hoped that I’d find answers.

I thanked the driver and quickly made my way from the vehicle. The whole building was without light. I quickly popped the contact out and put it into my opposite eye as to give my left a break. I toggled night mode and began to see everything that was once invisible in blacks and grays. This place was known for having the highest security out of any data center in the country and yet it was wide open to looters. I made my way up the stairs rather robotically. The decor was just as corporate and dystopian as I remembered: fake plants, little to no color, cheap carpet, you name it. By the time I had reached the third floor, I was already tuckered out. After the encounter I had, my body wasn’t ready for anything other than lounging around for a few days. Hell, weeks. Four. Five. Six. Seven. My vision was blurry and I tasted blood as I struggled to carry myself toward the open door. I saw a figure rise and push inside as I got closer. I couldn’t quite make it out, but I felt my feet carry me faster. I almost knew what was going to be waiting for me and it made my heart race. It couldn’t have been her. She couldn’t do something like that. All of those people on the news. Heaving, I rested myself on the door frame to find her standing there with moonlight illuminating her silhouette. The same stench that caused me to nearly vomit in the bathroom was in here too. “Took you long enough, Os” she quipped.

“I-”

“Sit. We need to talk.”