Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for language.
“Hello residents of New York City. For your safety, we are now putting our city on lockdown. This means that no one is allowed to leave their homes, and those who do, they may only pray to God that they survive. The reason for this lockdown is not important. For those who know, they know. For those who don’t,
WHILE YOU CAN
Rumors have been spread across the city that a gang is lurking in the streets. We can deny these allegations and nothing like that is currently occurring. More information on the lockdown will be reported soon. We thank you for understanding. And if you don’t…
He’ll get you.
HELL WILL GET YOU.”
The sirens started blaring, ear piercing noises that would make any man scared out of his mind. Those sirens went on for days, they bounced around the city and could be heard from miles away. I know because I was there.
I was the one who started it all.
New York City
Mr. DeLoyt slaps down a pile of papers.
“Come sit, Q.” He waves his hand at the chair in front of his desk.
I walk up to the chair and sit down, a bead of sweat runs down my arm. He licks his two fingers and turns the page of a packet. He reads it and then turns to me.
He sighs. “Quentin, I’m afraid we’re gonna hafta fire you.”
“Wait, what? Why? I’m one of the best workers here! I-I’m a CPA for your industry. One a’ the best in the country! Why would you wanna fire me?”
I try to get a reason out of him, but he just doesn’t tell me.
“Why are you firing me? You have to have a good reason!” I cry.
“If you want to know so badly, I’ll tell you.”
“Thank you. See? That wasn’t so-”
“You're a classified psychopath. Your doctors sent us this.” He holds up a file.
I twitch. “I’m sorry, I must’ve heard wrong. What?”
“Over time, your doctors have noticed your behavior and have confirmed you a potential psychopath. Now, they suggested you should not be allowed in a building like this for a while.”My face heats up, my fists clench and my teeth start to grind together. DeLoyt scoots his chair back. He presses a button on his phone.
“Uh, can I get security up here? We have a problem.”
“No need, George. I’ll be on my way. But I’ll have you know, I’ll be back, this company will crumble down without me.”
“Yeah, uh huh. Sure, Q.” He doesn’t even look up at me.
I can’t believe it, me, a psychopath. Those doctors are spitting straight bullshit. I’m not a psychopath, I’m far from it. Hell, I’m completely fine. My mind is racing. I’m unemployed, I’m no longer making money. Soon, I won’t have the money to take care of him, and then, myself. I rush throughout the office building, bumping into interns and workers as I make my way to the elevator. I get looks from the workers, all staring at me as if I’m crazy. A guy bumps into me, his coffee spilling on my yellow button down.
“Oh, sir! I’m so sorry!”
I grab his necktie and tighten it. He pulls back and catches his breath.
“Hey! What the hell’s the matter with you?!” He exclaims, punching my arm.
I grab his mug and toss it to him, he catches it late, hitting him in the chest. He stares at me and looks around for other workers to see if what he was seeing was seen by others. I press the button for the elevator, I keep pressing it. Each time I press it harder, hoping the elevator will arrive sooner. The soft ding of the elevator goes off and the doors slowly open. I step in the elevator and turn around, seeing all of my former co-workers stare at me. My now soulless, dead eyes stare back. The door shuts and I get a sense of anger, a longing for something, something to fill a hole inside of me, a longing for something, I just don’t know what.
The elevator dings and the doors open. I look over at the receptionist. She starts to talk to me.
“Mr. Squibble! Where are you going?” She pushes her pointy glasses up.
“Well sir, it’s only 10:30. Work ends at 5:00, you know that.”
“I was fired, miss.”
Before she can ask any more questions, I’m out the door, walking down the busy streets of New York. My hair is messy, it sticks up in all directions. My clothes are wrinkled and wet from the coffee. My skin is bright red, my veins are popping out, the grooves in my arm feel as if they could be plucked out and used to strangle a man. I cross a street, the walk sign is not on. The familiar white man is not on the small screen. The red hand seems to tell me to stop but I ignore it. I keep my head down, I don’t look around. I hear the loud honking of a truck. I tune my head to the left to see a braking van. The driver shakes his fist and shouts, but I cannot hear him. All I hear is my thoughts getting louder as time goes on. The overwhelming urge to just scream out was so strong. Stronger than I thought it could ever be.
I make it to my apartment. I pull out my keys and shove them in the lock. The door swings open and I throw my briefcase on the couch. I take off my necktie and hang it on the hook next to my door. I sigh and sit down on the couch. I look outside the window to see a gloomy sky. I need to find a way to make money, and fast. I start to think, a way to provide for my brother. His cancer isn’t getting any better, so I better think of something sooner than later. I hear a siren. I get up to go look out to see cop cars chasing a runaway car. It speeds down the street, bills flying in the air. A man pulls out a gun and starts firing at the police. They chase down the street, running into newsstands and other cars.
And then I got an idea.
A really good idea.