Germaphobic
reyo
Published
08/24/2008
You wake up at 6 AM, sharp. You're especially groggy today due to it being Monday. "Not another day of work", you tell yourself, but you force yourself up. You go through your daily morning ruotine with the vague feeling that something was meant to happen, almost like you forgot something, you quikly dismiss the thought telling yourself "It's only the begining of the week."
The day goes on without a hitch, you get to work, file papers, crunch numbers, eat lunch, crunch more numbers, leave. Just another day at Epix co. Tomorrow goes on the same way. Except. Today someone seems to be expecially interested to talk to you, he seems new, you ask his name but he just looks at you like he doesn't know what you just said, when you ask again he just looks confused and looks at you like you're crazy, you just continue on with the conversation. He goes to shake your hand, but you refuse, you explain to him you're a tiny bit germaphobic, the man looks at you in a half scowl for a minute, half smiling.
The next day you find yourself talking to the man more and more, eating lunch together, taking breaks together, he seems to be stalking you at work. He offers you a drink, but when you refuse he begins to get mad. He throws the drink at you and storms away, leaving you in an extremely embarrassing situation, you don't see the man for the rest of the day.
The next day goes on the same way, except when the man offers you the drink, you relunctantly accept, remembering the incident yesterday. It tasted like water, ordinary water. After drinking, the man tells you about how he drank out of it already and this should relieve you of your phobia. At this you feel extremely sick, but you don't puke, you begin to feel better, all the while the man is staring at you intently, smiling, scowling at you.
The next day, Friday, you feel like utter crap. The first thing you do in the morning is throw up all over the bathroom floor, thank goodness its tile. You quickly call in sick, drink a flattened white soda, and go back to bed.
Saturday, you feel fine, you go about the normal morning routine untill you get to the kitchen. On your kitchen counter are your house keys, the remote, and a note. The note is folded in half and you notice the front half tells you to turn to the channel 6 news. When you flip the T.V. on, creaped out by the most recent package on your kitchen counter, the news flip on with coverage on the most horrific, bloodiest, office massacre in history. You wait anxiously for the name of the company to come up. The name finally comes up...your company...Epix co. Everyone who was at the office the day you called in sick was killed by a masked gunman with an assault rifle. You're frozen for a minute, mixed thoughts run through your head, the man, how lucky you are to be alive, the note, THE NOTE. You quikly realise you forgot the second half of the note. On the inside where only 4 letters with a picture of your house. The 4 letters read out as followes..."I needed a survivor."
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