Tic toc, tic toc, tic toc. The sound of the clock ticking was the only thing echoing around the room. Tic toc, tic toc. It was Sunday, the clock was showing 7:22AM and Jack was already awake. He felt his heart trying to escape through his mouth, because fear had taken over his body since he read the note that was left in his bedroom. Quietly, he got up and put on his sandals. He entered the bathroom, washed his face and thought that could be his last day on Earth.
He reflected for a few moments, built courage and turned the round door knob before going to the kitchen. The kitchen, so small only one person fit in there, was incredibly clean. Jack opened the cupboard, got the frying pan and a 9mm pistol stored especially for these occasions. In the fridge, he found some slices of bacon, eggs and his weapon's clip. He fried the bacon and the eggs and ate them. He had never appreciated breakfast so much as he did that day.
Jack walked back to his bedroom, always cautiously, and dressed his jeans, his favourite (1) leather jacket and his shoes. On the desk, he found his wallet, which had a few cards, fifteen pounds and some ten pence coins. He went once more to the bathroom, brushed his teeth and, this time, didn't need to build courage to open the door. He walked through the two halls until he reached the front door of his flat (2). He opened the door and, carefully, looked to the left and to the right before running towards the lift (3), shaking with adrenaline.
(1) - British spelling of the word "favorite"
(2) - British equivalent for "apartment"
(3) - British equivalent for "elevator"
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Blog: The Plot Sucks