#Wattys2017 - A Glimpse of Freedom

Chapter Eight - Jenny Straussberg

I'm not quite sure about how I got myself into this situation, but I'm starting to feel better about it. Jenny is happy at home and has been even cutting down on her drinking. She told me she had been drinking plenty whilst she was in Hawaii, though, which makes me afraid. I wonder if she did anything bad whilst she was gone.

I can tell she hasn't noticed how weird I've been acting lately. She got incredibly mad at me when she found out I started drinking, but she got over it quickly. She said it didn't feel right for her to be mad for too long. After all, she's even heavier of a drinker.

Having to explain to Jenny why I began to drink was hard. I managed to convince her that I fell to peer pressure after being convinced by friends at work. It wasn't all that wrong, but it didn't make me feel much better either. I'm confident that she won't find out; after all, Daisy doesn't actually know her.

Driving to work was worse than usual. I was late today, I was caught in traffic. There was a major accident and one of the cities' major routes were cut off, and so I had to go around in the back alley streets. For the first time ever, I actually cut through traffic. Dangerous, but I'm late for work and on the verge of being fired. I can't take that risk.

I've been thinking, and I realized something; over the last week I feel like I've become more tolerant of my workplace. The moment I was threatened to lose it, I wanted to keep working there. It's a cruel world, because now I'm going to lose it.

Getting at work, I almost felt like I was shunned. Nobody would talk to me. Some people would pity me, whilst others laugh at my failure. It seems like Daisy has sparked her work friends to hate me too. Probably fed them lies about how the affair was all my fault when the large amount of alcohol played a major part. Daisy lured me in and ruined my life.

I don't want to go to work, I want to make money. That's it. Money, the thing that traps you, that tortures you, that kills you. It's like stockholm syndrome; money has you trapped and yet you still love it. For some, it falls like rain, and for others, the river has run dry.

My production rates are skyrocketing. Joey has noticed this and he seems happy. Maybe I've salvaged the last of my time here. If I can survive until retirement, that would be good. It's a longshot though; I won't be lasting any longer than another month.

The drive home just felt a lot more anxious than usual. I kept feeling like something would happen. Karma, I suppose; it'll be something bad. Maybe I'll get hit by a car, or I'll drive into a tree or something. Something's going to happen to me, I know of it.

Throughout that entire thought process, I skipped a red light and did not stop at a stop sign. I was so lost in thought, and yet I got so lucky. I arrived home safely.

"Jenny?" I call out. No response. I repeat myself, taking off my shoes and my jacket. "Jenny? You there?" and there was no response. "You in the shower?" I call out. I was feeling hungry and walked to the kitchen.

Jenny was on the floor. There was a bruise on her forehead, a knife on the ground and some dried blood on the tiled floor. She was still breathing. I call 911, in tears and short of breath.

She's in a hospital bed now. For every breath she takes, mine gets a little bit shorter. Every time her heart rate slows, mine increases. Every time I hear a doctor yell to one of the nurses, my heart stops a little. I can't go in, they're working on her.

She had a seizure. A withdrawal seizure. She went cold turkey on her alcohol habits and it all fell apart. It seems like she hit her head on something as she fell, and it caused her to bleed out. She'd been on the ground for quite a while.

And every time she breaths, her heart slows a little bit more. Every time her heart slows, I lose a little bit of hope. She'll be fine, she'll be fine..

She won't be fine.