Chapter 05

“On today’s news…” He sprints for the remote control.

“The bodies of two young girls have been found in –,” He frantically smashes the red button in the top-right hand corner.

The TV turns black.

Not today.

He lets out a sigh of relief, before leaping back into the kitchen.

They look fabulous! He squeals, as he slides the steaming, golden pancakes onto the corroding plate with an old, greasy spatula.

Perfection.

As he pours a scrumptious load of maple syrup onto his fresh work of art, he jolts in delight. The recipe he stole off ‘Subtle Asian Baking’ worked!

He snatches his iPhone 5 from the countertop, ready to capture his success with his 144-pixel camera.

The notification bar drops.

“NEWS FLASH: THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES HAS ANNOUNCED THAT OVER 2000 NUCLEAR MISSILES HAVE BEEN LAUNCHED ACROSS THE WORLD BY THE EAST, TARGETING THE U.S. AND ITS ALLIES.”

He clicks his phone shut.

Not today.

He closes his eyes. Deep breath. Count.

3.

2.

1.

Another deep breath –

Red. Blotches of crimson red across the screen.

Tissue and cartilage splattered across the pavement. Remnants of a dog.

His feet tremble, his hands quiver.

Count.

3.

2.

1.

Red. Streams of blood roll down the screen slowly, before the video pans to a man who licks the camera with his tongue and grins.

“He’s dead. HE’S DEAD, MY BROTHERS.” The man rejoices with his people: men dressed in black pleated robes and balaclavas.

He reaches for the kitchen drawer –

Red. Decline.

The supervisor hollers across the office, “STAY. There are more videos for you to go through.”

Red. A fountain pen slashes his face, leaving a crack in the glass door behind him. Red continues to trickle down his cheek.

The supervisor’s angry. “How dare you?”

His face muscles clench and his teeth grind.

Her voice rings through his mind. “What the fuck are you actually good at? ‘Approve’ and ‘Decline’ are literally two different colours, you twat.”

With every last bit of adrenaline, he fights for his limbs to do something. Anything.

“That video is going to ruin the lives of thousands before we can do anything about it. How dare you make such a fuck up, you good-for-nothing son of a bitch?”

He finally flings open the kitchen drawer and grapples for the orange container of Valium tablets.

1 tablet. Swallow. Water. Drink.

Count.

3.

2.

1.

Red.

“No, fight it,” the therapist reassures him.

Deep breaths. Count.

3.

2.

1.

You got this.

3.

2.

1.

His eyes are wide open.

Clock in the far-right corner, calendar above the dining table, the pancakes, now cold, still on the kitchen top.

He’s still in his house. Not the office. Not the office. Not today.

As he finishes the last munch of his now-crusty pancakes, another notification appears.

“Message: Come into work today. Staff needed. TRIPLE PAY.”

He glances at his almost-dysfunctional phone, the silverware that isn’t really silver anymore, and the bits of wallpaper scraping off the walls.

Shit. It is today.

He grabs his workbag from the bedroom and smuggles the Valium tablets into a secret compartment.

As he reaches for the door, he remembers.

Deep breaths. Count.

3.

2.

1.