storytime #3 ? (continued in commetns)

Instructions

contains horror themes/ murder themes never finishing this btw HAHAH ------------ Chapter one I groaned as the shrill screeching of my alarm pierced through the stillness of my room, still serene and cool from the quiet autumn night. I lazily reached my hand out from the warmth of my thick covers and turned the alarm off, before gruffly shuffling out of my bed's warm embrace. The morning showed traces of the approaching winter, and heading to the bathroom on the chilly floor was one of the most challenging things I had to go through that Tuesday morning. I could already feel the reprimanding messages from my boss buzzing repeatedly on my phone, but until I had my coffee I didn’t dare read them. After a quick sandwich of bread and baloney, washed down with an excessively big cup of coffee, I proceeded down the street towards my office like I had done countless times over the past 10 years of my life. At 28, I lived a quiet and peaceful life on my own. My parents lived a bit more towards the countryside, and I set aside some money I earn for them every few months or so. I went along fine on my own, but my mother still worried about me being single. After having a 2 year long relationship in my early twenties that blew up because of money problems, I decided I was comfortable being alone for the time being. At first, this decision was often brought up by my parents, but was reluctantly let go considering my job didn’t exactly offer many opportunities to meet people outside my brief professional conversations. I worked as an insurance claims investigator, but I quickly learned that it was just another name for a therapist. I knew everyone. I knew their names, their addresses, their incomes, their family members, and their money problems; I had information on almost every person who had ever sat across from my desk. Most people didn’t need someone to calculate their losses, they needed someone to listen. I’d settle down at my wooden desk, a shiny pin with Elias Voss , SIU investigator written cleanly on it clipped neatly to my dark blue dress shirt. My office included a sleek coffee machine, bought personally by me, always within reach at the right side of the room. A small tin garbage can stood beside my door, filled to the brim with papers, used tissues, and disposable cups. Every morning, I sat, preparing documents for the day. Then I’d have a client come in complaining about a denied insurance claim, only to break down ten minutes later about the death of their former spouse. Hearing people's stories of marriages falling apart, family disputes, accidents and financial struggles filled my own quiet life with other people's experiences, letting me have something else to ponder on besides my own small concerns, like where I had lost my favorite belt a week or two earlier. After a busy day, I sometimes found myself taking a quiet stroll through the park, or returning straight to my apartment, hovering near the freezer, debating over which frozen meal to heat up, then sitting in silence until it was time to sleep. This Tuesday was supposed to be the same, just another workday in my familiar cycle of eat, work, sleep. However, this was the last peaceful night before everything changed. Chapter two The next early morning, I got out of bed before my alarm managed to wake me and shuffled straight towards my beloved coffee machine. As it buzzed and whirred I stared out my window and sighed. The weather seemed perfect, cloudy yet bright rays of sunlight shone right through like golden webs sticking to every object. Yet, I had to be stuck in my office for the entire day. Taking my first, relaxing and slow sip that soothed my weary eyes and stiff muscles, I decided I’d walk to work, considering I woke up a good 30 minutes earlier than usual. After stepping out the apartment building with my keys put away snugly in my jacket pocket, I enjoyed the eccentric feeling of exuberant peace that seemed to seep into my soul along with the warm sunlight. I watched parents walking their children to school with their huge boxy backpacks nearly knocking them off of their little feet. I watched a couple ordering breakfast in one of my favorite cafes halfway to my office. I also observed dog owners here and there with grins on their faces as they took their dogs to play in the park. Seeing all those people made me feel very whole and content as I made my way to the office building. Just before reaching my destination, I spotted a homeless man wearing a scratchy beanie and a neon blue jacket resting near the entrance. I slowed my pace, my eyes picking and nipping at the unpleasant sight. The man's beard was overgrown and shaggy and gray, his pants were too small and exposed his ankles to the autumn air, and his skin carried years of exhaustion, his face dark and grimy, similar to his teeth that showed when he suddenly started to speak to me.