Emotionally Compromised (#1) (Available On Amazon) [Preview]

Chapter 15 - Cravings

MARCUS GIBBS

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            As I sit perched on a stool in front of my microscope I can’t stop rubbing my eyes. I didn’t go home last night. I would say I slept in my lab, but the truth is, I didn’t sleep at all. I have been anxiously creating new samples for the extra batch and I finally put in an order for the transportation supplies. My last task before heading out the door is to make sure these samples are progressing as planned. So far most of them are ok, but I have come across 3 culture samples that didn’t develop properly. Damn.

            I am not going to lie: every time I came across a bad batch I threw the glass dish across the room, letting it clatter to pieces in the corner of the room. Those pieces still lay there now. I’ll get David, my lab partner, to clean up the mess, it’s the least he can do.

            Out of the 15, 12 were passable to make it to the second process. I place them on the rack below the perfect ‘ready-to-go’ batch, and decide I will work on the extra 3 tomorrow. I just can’t be in here anymore; these white sterile walls are making me go crazy.

            I decide not to take anymore of the xanax Steve gave me because they cloud my mind, so instead every time my mind felt tired, or wandering, I did a line. Considering the progress I have made so quickly, I still feel like it was the right choice. Though every time I threw the petri dish into the wall I imagined Jeremy’s face as it shattered.

            I still can’t get the image of him with Alex out of my head and the more I allowed myself to think about it the angrier I get. I want him to suffer, like the many times I have. We’ve been friends for so long, but you get to the point where you have just had enough. How can I work this all to my advantage? And show these people they can’t just fuck with me whenever?

            I need to get out of here. I peer at my watch as I tuck my drugs inside my jacket pocket, and realize it is nearly 2pm, and based on principle I guess I should get some food in me.

            Before I head out I decide to call that asshole, Luke, to let him know that everything is going according to plan –just in case he has any doubts.

            He picks up on the second ring, “Luc, parlant?”

            Dumb French fuck.

            “Luke, its Marcus Gibbs.” Now speak English, dammit.

            “Ah, Bonjour Marcus Gibbs, how are you?”

            I’ve been better. “I am great. I have some news: the new batch is coming along and should move according to schedule.”

            And an oddly maniacal laugh bellows through the phone, “Fantastic, see what a little pressure can amount to? RESULTS!”

            And I swear to god if he was standing in front of me, bad man or not, I would have used my pen to stab him in his throat to get him to shut up.

            Keep it together, Gibbs

            …but what if I don’t want to anymore…?

            What a concept?

            I gather my thoughts trying not to explode and fake a laugh. Luckily he continues, because if I had to speak I am not sure what I would say.