One Touch | Charlie Gillespie

T E N

Charlie sits down on one of the chairs without even looking at me.

I couldn't sleep that night, the combination of the argument with Charlie and the voice in my head was too much to handle.

I feel really guilty for being so disrespectful against Sarah, but I can't blame myself— it's that sharp, annoying voice that's telling me I'm not good enough, and it drives me crazy.

It's not the first time the voice comes out. As I child, I used to be bothered by it too. My dad says I got it from my mom. She was also bothered by that voice, and it caused her a lot of temper tantrums. Her psychologist said she has anger issues, and that I may have inherited it. Yeah, that's great.

As I toss and turn in bed, I think about explaining this to Charlie. He deserves an explanation, but what if he doesn't believe me? Or what if he thinks it's just an excuse?

Don't tell him, he won't believe you. There is it again. "Think about something else," I mumble to myself.

Quinn. Yes, Quinn. Tomorrow. She's here tomorrow. I check my phone to see what time it is, and the numbers on my lock screen show 3:07 am.

Just a few more hours, then you're not alone anymore.

_____

Quinn
wake up!!!
june wake up
i'm in the cab
okay, the driver's hot
answerrrr
9:01 AM

Quinn
almost there
i thought you had to work at 8
did you oversleep???
you a baddie
oh my gosh i got the drivers number aaaa

Quinn
helloooo

Me
Goodmorning
Why did you text me so much
OH FUCK I overslept

Quinn
finallyyyy
yes dumbass go to your work
can i come visit you

Me
Of course
I have to go
See ya

Not only Quinn, but Andrew and Leah have called me a few times too. Shit. As fast as I can, I dress myself and eat some breakfast. Andrew is going to kill you... "Oh I know, shut up," I tell the voice once again, annoyed at the sharp tone filling my ears so early in the morning.

I run down the stairs, fly through the corridors and eventually reach the set. Charlie sits on one of the sofas reading his script, so I quickly walk past him to avoid contact. I'm not ready to talk to him, not yet.

The writing office is a mess: everyone is walking around, some yelling, others busy behind their laptop.

"What's going on?" I ask a girl who walks past me. She shrugs and points at Andrew. "He's telling everyone to work harder. He's angry for some reason."

I thank her and walk up to Andrew. He notices me immediately and begins talking. Well, it's more like yelling.

"For god's sake June, where were you? We need you!"

"I am so sorry, I overslept. But why do y—"

"Because we need that Nick solution of yours! We're going to use it!" he cries loudly, not sure if it's a happy or an angry exclamation.

My eyes light up at the sound of that sentence. A wave of relief runs through my body and I smile to myself, knowing that I have beaten the voice at this point. I knew I could do it.