“I’m hungry” I say to myself.
“Mate, seriously, you have to stop eating, it really can’t be good for you, and you’re over eating way too often.” My friend replied.
I stayed silent.
It doesn’t matter to me, she’s gone, what have I got left? Food is what I love now.
It’s been three weeks since the bombing of the hospital. The person who committed these terrible acts causing mass hysteria and loss of lives?
Dead, killed by his own bomb after robbing a bank, I wasn’t even sure how he managed to blow up a car. Wouldn’t you want to use it to escape? Especially after robbing a bank…
I took another bite of the three large pepperoni pizza’s I had ordered for myself, my friend sitting there, watching the news. The same story, over and over again,
Food, the only replacement to my now dead fiancé; was helping me, over and over again.
My friend began talking again, in the background, insisting I seek help.
I don’t need it; I have all the help I need in my lap. Pizza, stacked on top of each other, with my 3L Coke next to me. That’s all I need. Unlike my wife, they don’t ask of much, just attention; which I am happy to give them.
Images flickering in front of me, I’m not really watching, I’m looking beyond the pictures, I’m looking to her. She’s not there anymore, she left me. Food’s never left me. Only to occupy my stomach, even so never leaving me for long, it’s always nearby.
Food is better than her, better than anyone, never complains, unless you’re a rather arrogant bunch of Jalapeños. Food satisfies me, and I it.
My emotions consume me, and I consume it.
This is my struggle, this is my survival.
Images of victims flash across the screen with some song in which I cannot remember the name of, a famous one, I recall.
Time slows down, to a near halt.
I stare. Tears forming in the corners of my eyes; lip quivering in despair, the slice of pizza held within my trembling had dropping to the box below in a dramatic fall, like one would see in the movies at a point of climax.
Tears flowing freely, like melted cheese; emotions pouring like a jug of cold beer.
Pain spreading slowly throughout my body, a constant dull thud, thud, thud.
The thudding increasing in beat, rapidly, like boiling water on a stove.
I see nothing, “Hey, buddy? Can you hear me? You’ve just suffered a heart attack, I need you to hold on until we get you into surgery, there has been a clot to you’re heart.”
I murmur something unintelligible.
“Can you repeat that for me buddy? It’s not long now…”
I gasp for air, filling my lungs.
Murmuring to myself as I come to, rubble everywhere, last thing I remember, was walking past the hospital, and then, an explosion.
Hysteria, confusion, but most importantly anarchy.
I chuckled to myself, this is where humans show their true emotions, in a situation like this, its do or die. I on the other hand had another idea on hand, money.
Two entire blocks had been affected by the blast.
I overheard two people yelling out ‘Terrorists! The second blast wasn’t the last to come! Take cover!’
Two blasts? Interesting, i had only experienced one, but then that wouldnt have affected two whole blocks. I noted that the bridge leading out of the island was packed with people running, i noticed that there was only enough of the bridge undamaged to allow for people only access.
I spotted the bank. Surprisingly empty.
I couldn’t help it, it was just there. It was doing nothing, just sitting there, if you will.
Running into the crumbling bank, i run past a dead security guard, reaching for his gun. Turning to inspect the vault i see a man quivering. Another security guard, armed.
He reaches for his gun, but i am quicker. A small pop and I become the worlds next Grim reaper; decider of lives.
Laughing at the large crack in the wall, leading to the vault, despite its reinforced walls it could hardly survive the blast and the next doors roof. The pressure must be immense. Just my luck, all the money in the central business area that i can carry, mine.
Checking my satchel I empty out the charges i was originally using to blow the vault door open. They can be used another day, when i strike without being interupted.
Filling up my bag, i place the charges on top of all the cash, wrapped in a black bag, in case i need to use them, for some odd reason.
Thinking to myself i could use them for distraction, place them on a car nearby.
And thats exactly what i did.
After planting the bomb, I took a moment to take a breath.
A sick feeling from the bottom of my gut.
I hadn’t changed it.
It was set for 20 seconds.
It was already at 17 seconds.
I moved quickly to the…
The ringing of the hammer against the bell *Ring, Ring, Ring*, my eyes open, I squint under the bright white lights, the room smelling of detergent and chemicals; clean.
People rushing outside the room door, yelling out: “We have more coming!” The policeman outside my door was now looking around ever so nervously as to the cause and reason behind the panic that was occurring. Explosions in the distance now rocking the hospital ever so slightly; enough to cause shivers of worry throughout my body.
I smile, panic, hysteria, this is my place. I move my arm to get up, handcuffed.
Cursing to myself under my breath, as I spot the key lying on the bedside table, out of reach to my outstretched arm. Now ever so frustrated I look for something that could assist me in breaking free, or even moving the key closer, enough for my fingertips to just touch it. Then I would be free.
I wake up, its raining.
Damn, that’s going to affect my make-up and hair, i think to myself.
Moving to the bathroom I move past the many mirrors that occupy my apartment walls.
My hair only slightly curly from last nights events, and my make up still perfect, as I examine myself in the mirror.
Pure beauty, that’s what I am. I weigh myself on the scales, the perfect weight.
God I love my metabolism, so perfect. Keeping my body in optimum perfection. Within the mirrors reflection i gaze upon the beauty within the painting hung up above my bed, so flawless, amazing, beauty that cannot be re-created anywhere.
God I loved that self-portrait.
My best work yet.
My phone rings, i walk slowly to the other side of the room to answer it.
"How is my beautiful girl today?", it’s mother. My secondary idol, other than myself. It is her that I have to partially thank for my beauty, I have myself to thank for the rest.
I speak to her for another five minutes until i realise what the time is, i am late for a photo-shoot of the cover of the newest fashion magazine that has taken the world by storm Looks are everything.
Rushing down the stairs, yet not enough to look undignified I exit the apartment onto the street, scoffing at the doormans shocking apparel, and glaring at the local newspaper boy for his mishapen hair and nose.
Hailing a taxi, it parks across the road waiting for me, looking to my left I cross the road, my heel snaps on the grating of a drain cover.
Blinking, disorientated, i get up, I am fine, unhurt.
Praising God for saving my looks, i continue on, unaware of the car hurtling towards me, screeching on its brakes at the last minute.
I wake up three weeks later, in a full body cast.
My life is over.
Room smelling of last nights dinner,
Thai take outs.
Papers strewn everywhere, radio playing softly in the background,
curtains drawn light filtering through.
Television flickering; snobbish politician feeding lies to the greater population of 6.30am.
My beer surprisingly still in present company, not spilled.
Take a sip, wincing, my neck, sore from sleeping on the couch, probably should sleep in my bed tonight, if i can be bothered.
Itching my bloated stomach, I think to myself. I should probably call in sick to work again. The last few days on the couch have been rather enjoyable, not having to work. I had plenty of sick leave left…
hmm, ill do it soon.
Flicking through the channels, Politics, News, Cheap Soap Opera, Kids Channels. The remote drops out of my hand, landing face down.
The channel changes, its the news.
Unable to reach it from my outstretched arm, i give up.
Burping, i adjust myself to get to the comfortable position, wiping the gunk out of my eyes and around my mouth I pay attention to what they are saying.
"We have declared a state of emergency" "We must initiate precautionary measures now."
I move forward and change the channel.
The channel changes to a children’s channel.
The TV turns to static. I hear bangs and explosions in the distance.
Shrugging to myself I take a sip of last nights beer, a bite of last nights dinner.
Rolling over to sleep some more.
Walking down the hall I see him by the locker, talking to his best friend. The one I know he loves. Does he know I love him?
No, he doesn’t know of my little hints, my little secrets that I desperately want to yell to the world. He doesn’t know the amount of space he occupies within my thoughts.
All of it.
Looking at him, staring into his deep brown eyes, his amazing brown eyes, with the sparkle of the sun on the water. I wonder if he notices me, if he thinks of me, like I do him. I wonder if he notices the little things about me.
I want him.
I need him now.
He needs to know.
Careful as to not arouse suspicion to anyone else, I begin to approach him as he sorts through his locker, trying to look casual. I smell his strong musky odour of his amazing, expensive cologne; Share.
Moving my eyes over every aspect of his back, absorbing every small and minor detail, getting to know him in every way possible. My longing for him increasing with every glance, with every detailed absorbed.
His phone rings, I move away slowly to the drinking fountain, careful not to make any obvious changes. I do not want to bring attention to us, to him.
No one else can have him.
I overhear his conversation, he’s going out, tomorrow. With someone, i cannot make out who. It better not be that girl. He’s mine, not hers.
I need him right now.
He hangs up his phone and continues sorting out his locker.
I approach him, closer, closer, until I am right behind him, looking at the back of his well carved neck.
I must have him.
My eyes open.
My alarm clock ringing.
Moving out of the bed, its mid-morning, wishing for a better day. Drawing the curtains open, looking out into the world that is ever changing.
Looking to the neighbours, spotted is the young girl of the wealthy family, tanning by the pool side. Her butler serving her the finest of wines.
Accompanying her, is her best friend. Talking about the latest fashion trends and who’s who.
A honk from the front, its her father, she runs to the front, just like daddy’s girl would. But this honk is unfamiliar, a new car. Her car, a brand new $50,000 car. Just for her, her license barely two days old. Squealing with delight she goes to hug her father, just like daddy’s girl.
He tells her to wait, ‘just one second’. Opening the car door. Removing a small box. A curious excited look crosses the girls face. Squealing at a higher pitch than thought possible she opens it slowly, whilst ripping off the single pink bow.
A ring. The very same ring I had looked at the previous day, for my love.
Yet, due to my boss telling me J could no longer have a job, he could not pay me, he had no money. I had no money.
She has everything, and I… Nothing.