Death Smiles At The End Of The Line [Keveridge]

Chapter 1

[Laurence's POV]

The average day for me was never exciting, or dramatic, and rarely ever saw change. Sat in front of an outdated computer tying worthless crap, occasionally answering the phone and directing some rude bastard to the correct department they wish to complain to was how I'd spend every working day. I hated it. It was as if I was living in purgatory- suffering as a punishment for being such a cock in my younger days. As soon I has strolled through the front doors of this place in search of a job, I knew that it'd be a waste of time. The front doors seemed to suck out all emotion as you entered, forcing you to become another lifeless soul sat behind a desk, longing for 5 in the evening to arrive sooner. Well, that's what seems to happen to me.

On this particular day, I had awoken in the flat I shared with my friends with an odd feeling brewing in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't identify the feeling, so I cast the thought away, and set off to live another dreary day. Perhaps it was just the fact that Drew, Shane and Luke weren't in the flat, since they were down in Beccles visiting some family for a while. Through out the day, however, this feeling had been wandering back, knocking at the back of my mind, rather like a small child thirsty for unnecessary attention. Every time I pushed it away, it always seemed to return, but stronger and more annoying. Once midday had arrived, this nagging feeling soon evolved into something I immediately disliked.

Something bad is going to happen.

I frowned at the thought, reaching into my bag for my lunch, only to replace it, deciding I felt too sick to eat.

The next hour or so seemed to stretch out, and felt like several days. I was constantly wringing my hands nervously and running my hand through my messy dark hair, desperately trying to shake off the feeling that was now gnawing at me.

I sucked in a sharp breath, bowing my head and resting it on my arms that were now crossed on the desk.

'Everything'll be ok.' I repeatedly told myself, trying to block out the negative voice in my mind, that seemed as if it was screaming now.

Breaking the unusual silence of the office, the annoying ringtone belonging to my phone began to cry, vibrating in my pocket, reducing my tolerance to near to none. I reached for it, instantly pressing answer, noting the caller ID. I answered with a grunt.

"L-Laurence, I n-need help." Kier Kemp- my best friend since we were young- gasped between muffled sobs. Panic suddenly began to course through my veins, a bubble of sorry rising in my throat.

"With what?"

"Just come, q-quick." And with a click, he hung up, the endless beep ringing in my ears, even after I had out my phone back into my pocket.

'Ok. So my best friend is in trouble.' I thought to myself, hurriedly stuffing my belongings into into my bag and pulling my jacket on, before rushing out of the office, despite the fact that there was still three hours left until my shift is supposed to finish. I ran out into the empty street, the cold instantly hitting my face as I legged it down the pavement, towards the town center- the quickest route home. The crowds gradually became denser as I rushed through them, weaving in and out of the people as they battled the stores they wished to explore.

I do ally reached the quieter side streets that lead me to the flat, the cold early spring wind pulling and tugging at my clothes and hair as I sped up, running faster than I ever have, the thought of Kier in trouble driving my faster.

Before long, the towering block of flats came into view. Each window seemed to glare at me, mocking me as I slowed to a jog, wheezing for breath. I reached the main door, bustling into it, and towards the lift. I smacked the elevator button, soon becoming impatient and racing up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.