I wait in my kitchen, sitting on my counter.
I've been drinking like a fiend just to control my temper. Bad habit.
I know it was him, he ruined everything. Now I'll have to go somewhere else to find a new job. Everything here was perfect
My gaze focuses on the clock on my shitty stove 11:55 pm.
Fuck this, if he's not going to come, I'm going to bed.
I try my best finding each step and putting my foot on it. Took me 3 minutes to reach the top of the stairs. Then I collapse tumbling down the hard wooden steps feeling each one of the 36 steps in my flesh.
Thankfully I was drunk and don't feel as much as I would. If I had a broken leg, I bet I could walk on it drunk, i swear to god.
The light from my window illuminates a pale hand. Looks like a corpse reaching out for me and I take it. It pulls me forward, off of the cold floor.
Once I'm up the hand retracts back into the darkness.
"Hey." I say wanting to see who was in my house or if I was just hallucinating. Hallucinations would explain a lot actually. I should go to a psychiatrist soon, or just prescribe myself meds.
"Yes...." My eyes pop open. "It's you!" I exclaim totally heating up, my blood is like gasoline and my body's the fire.
"Was it you? Did you set the morgue on fire?" I stare into nothingness and grow irritated that he's hiding.
"Yes it was bunny. You don't have to thank me now. Just relay the favor." He emerges from the corner, smirking.
"Favor? You ruined my job, my only opportunity of being satisfied with my life."
"Spilled milk baby." I tremble with rage. Without second thought I get physical. I start swatting at him then close my fists when he starts laughing.
His giggling only makes me hit him harder, I'm so frustrated that I'm not hurting him.
His fingers latch onto my wrist and suddenly my face is up against my window, and my arm aches. He has my left hand twisted up against my back and he's holding me still with his body against mine.
Every time I try to move he just closes the space between us, pressing us together.
"Look. Hey- I know that you're mad and all but I've come with a resolution to the problem I've created for you. I want you- Gotham's Finest Doctor- to come and work for lil ol' me." I focused on the hot tears on my face and tried to think.
He set my building on fire so that he could get me to work for him ? I could've gotten killed, the owners of that morgue have lost their source of income, all so that he could ask me to work for him.
"You really are crazy."
"No, No, No, No, No- I'm NOT." He pushes me into the wall and I fall back on my ass. I flinch as he steps closer and closer until he's right above me. He crouches down to meet my eyes.
He's wearing a suit today. Nice purple suit.
"Say it." My eyes flicker to a knife in his hand. Shit. "You're not crazy." I state just like he wants. "I'm just a little pissed off."
"Shh, shh." He wipes the place under my eyes ridding me of my tears. "It's okay, I forgive you. Now my offer still stands but," he looks at his left wrist pretending to read the time off of a watch, "time is sparse."
I think of his offer. I don't want to be a doctor first of all. I have all of the knowledge a doctor does but I didn't sign up to work with live patients did I.
"How much will I be paid?"
"Well, how much do you make now?"
"one hundred and eighty-seven thousand dollars annually." He mouthed the number back at me obviously not impressed.
"Times it by ten but don't expect this to just be given to you. Your going to have to work hard and long and earn that money."
$1,870,000. I can disappear with money like that. It would take me years to come up with that amount and it would be taxed, so even longer than initially thought.
Fuck it.
"Okay fine. I'm in."
