Dare to Stop Breathing

Keep It To Yourself - Chapter 1/ Start of Rewrite

Quick Note- From now on, this story will not have the ending of the first draft. It will also be written from the first person perspective and will hopefully have a faster pace. If you have any suggestions or concerns, feel free to message me or leave a comment. The new part of the story starts right before she hears the ticking noise. Thanks! ~Kenz

Of all things that this career could have been, I had been sure it would be at least a little exciting. I mean, what are the chances of becoming President? It is a rare thing that when a child, in this case me, says she wants to be the President of the U.S, that hope becomes reality.

When I had first walked into the White House, I pictured an extravagant desk made of polished wood and piles of secret documents for my eyes only, being the President and all. In my head I saw shiny printed photos of me, awaiting my signature.

    Ok, maybe I had expected the job to be like I was a movie star. I admit I might have been a little delusional. But what else was I supposed to think? All of the shows people make about the White House set high expectations.

    Instead of secret documents, my desk was covered with not-so-secret documents about the economy, society, etc. There were no photos, only a single laptop in the middle of the chaos that was my workspace.

    Had the previous presidents been this messy? I had heard from a few of my old friends that the way you organize your belongings reveals a part of your personality. This fact wasn't and still isn't helping with my concerns.

    All I did those first few days was work. I could do that now, but I honestly would rather not. I work best under pressure anyways, might as well save it for tomorrow.

    I sound like I'm in highschool.

    High school hadn't been all that bad, actually. I think I'll just take that route and see where it takes me. Plus, it's not like other Presidents hadn't acted like a teenager at some point (if they had at least a little soul, that is.)

    My eyes wander to the President's seal on the top of my laptop. This was my favorite thing about my office, all of the seals. They remind me of what I'm doing for America.

    I bring up my emails and scan for any unread ones. In the search box I type the name Donn Gale. This switches the display to the email I had sent to him earlier this week. At the time it sounded like a good idea, but now it just seems pathetic to ask the previous President for help.

    I search for anything I haven't read yet and find nothing but letters from old colleagues and reminders for different tasks.

    Just as I'm about to close my laptop I hear a small ding, signaling a new email.

    Trying not to get my hopes up, I click into it. It is, in fact, from Gale... but it's not what I was expecting.

    "Donn Gale, 9:13am, location unknown". Relief washes over me. At last I'll be getting some help. Carefully, I skim over the email:
"Good morning, President Landon. I hope this will be of use to you. Good luck with your findings, and if you have any questions... feel free to keep them to yourself." What had he meant by "keep it to yourself"? He must have meant the attached document to be private.
 
    Assuming the file is a list of, hopefully, tips on managing my Presidency, I click into it. What comes up, though, is something I had not been expecting to see. It's a well put-together, 3D digital map of the world, with a couple of points in certain areas. I notice that there is one located in the Himalayan Mountains, specifically Mount Everest. The other points are scattered, and when looked at more closely, describing the best vacation spots. Gale always has been one for advice, I think. Perhaps he's suggesting that I'll need a break from time to time. However, Mount Everest doesn't exactly seem like the best place to sit back and relax. Unless I would be staying in one of the towns at the bottom of the mountain, I hardly think I'd enjoy sitting in a beach chair under an umbrella, wearing four layers of clothing to fend off hyperthermia.

    I transfer the map from my computer to my phone then stand up and walk to the big oak door guarding my office. It takes a quarter of my strength to push it open. It surprises me when I find my breathing slightly faster. I need to visit the gym more often, I think.

"Madam President! Good to see you. How has your work been going?" I look up to see my secretary, Charlotte.

"Oh, hi, Charlotte. Work's been fine. Any news lately?"

Charlotte's face drops. She seems worried, "Well, there has been speak of an attack that is believed to happen in the near future...," she notices my growing paranoia then adds, "but it isn't supposed to occur for a few months, if my sources are correct."

I process this, "And what would those sources be?"

"Uh, some very trustworthy people on... social media," Charlotte looks somewhat ashamed.

"Look, just try to find any other reports on this. Search for a date, where the attack's location will be, and who the attackers are. I have something I need to do."

Charlotte makes eye contact with me and holds it, a small frown on her face, "I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I'm afraid I have to know what it is that you're doing. If there is going to be an attack, the staff need to be more aware of what happens here at the White House."

"I'm just going to see if Marcus is in, I need to ask him about our budget."

"Okay, that's fine. He should be in the meeting room. I'm sure he won't mind if you need to remove him from his meeting, I heard it was about taxes today," Charlotte winks, then starts down the red-carpeted hallway.

I spin on my heels and stride down a few halls, trying to remember where the meeting room is located. I start to wish I had paid a little more attention to the couple of tours I was given.
Who could really blame me, though? I'm pretty sure anyone who was given a tour of the White House would be distracted, as well.

I notice that I am almost to the end of a particularly long corridor. My thoughts wander elsewhere as I continue walking, and soon begin to hear the conversation going on in the meeting that I will soon interrupt.

"... this is not the topic in which your opinion matters, Jett. Do you understand?" I can tell by his tone that this is Asher Grey speaking.

"I understand, Grey." This comes from Marcus. The second word sounds strained, like he most certainly understands, but doesn't agree.

I decide to make my presence known, and step into the large, rectangular room. Twelve surprised faces turn towards me. I clear my throat, "Sorry to interrupt, but I need to see Marcus Jett for a minute." On saying his name, he looks up from the papers he had been glaring at and meets my eyes. I nod in his direction and he stands up and walks out the door.

Before leaving, I add, "Carry on," then exit the room.

Marcus is leaning against the wall outside the doorway. He stands up straight when he sees me and asks, "What's up?"

I note his relaxed tone and wish I could be as laid-back as he always is. "What's our budget like at the moment?"

"You mean how much do we have? It depends on what you're thinking of using the money for."

Without thinking, I answer, "We would use it for multiple plane tickets and possibly some heavy climbing equipment." I think over what I just said, then mentally punch myself for mentioning plane tickets. We would take something private if we were to go to another country. Sometimes I forget I'm one of the most important people in the U.S.

"We? Madam President, I'm not sure if this is a good or a bad thing, but we do have the budget to do that. I don't have any idea of what you'd use that for. Unless you have the sudden urge to scale a mountain, I doubt the White House would have use for stuff like that."

"On the contrary, Jett. I have to scale a mountain for business, not pleasure." He looks sort of taken aback, but I can see a small smile flicker across his face.