notion • john murphy

26 - SEPARATION

[ SEPARATION ]

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   Murphy let out a sigh. He didn't really have good luck, did he?

He glanced back over to the same couch that was shown in the video. Blood, like he expected, covered it. The man had shot himself in the chest, right in this very room. Before Murphy could do anymore thinking however, there was a familiar sound of a hiss and then a loud clanging noise.

He shot up to his feet quickly, placing down his drink just as a robotic voice stated: "Containment door sealed."

No, no, no, no.

Murphy rushed up the stairs as fast as his could, only to see that yes, the containment door was, in fact, sealed shut. "No way! Come on!" Murphy yelled, banging his hands against the door. He pushed his whole body weight against, but still nothing. "Come on!" He grunted.

"Chris? Where are you, man?" An unfamiliar voice suddenly sounded from downstairs. Murphy turned his head to the stairs, before rushing down.

Expecting to see someone, he glanced around. But no one was there. It was just the TV. "Chris!"

A man had entered the frame and crouched down in front of the man, Chris, who had shot himself. Another man entered as well, both boys shocked to see Chris laying dead on the couch.

"I knew it. The news was wrong." The second man in the video said. "It wasn't China. The stupid son of a bitch let Alie out."

"Help me. The radiation's coming." The first man said, grabbing a dead Chris. "Unless we wanna share this place with a corpse, we need to get him outside."

As Murphy drew closer to the TV, watching how the two men lifted up Chris. His mind raced. They didn't take the gun. Which meant. . .

Murphy looked over to the same couch. And he saw it. The gun lay on the floor, forgotten. Murphy picked it up in his hand before shoving it in his pocket.

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Murphy had tried everything.

He tried kicking the door, banging it with large objects he found around. Nothing was working. It was useless.

And he was losing his mind.

He let a scream, banging another object into the door. Still nothing.

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"I tried to stop her," Chris said for what felt like the hundredth time. Murphy knew all the words. And yet he continued to watch it. . .

Over.

And over.

And over again.

He never lost count of the days. And he never forgot the sound of Chris's apologies before he shot himself. Murphy hated the sound of the gunshot. But he kept watching it anyway.