Madam President ✓

9. One Crazy Motherfucker

They sat in the window, looking out at the city in front of them. They picked at their nails, which were already bloody from months of doing so- and tried to absorb the first minutes of alone time they'd gotten since the bombing. When they leaned forward to observe a pair of friends who'd stopped in front of the fence, trying to catch a glimpse of the president, they laughed.

  They thought to themself: "Morons. They should understand she's untouchable, especially now."

  Then they stood up, walked across the room to a White House vending machine, shoved a dollar bill in and waited for a chocolate bar to jump out. When it finally did they tore into it, hungry from not eating since that morning- because despite what they liked to tell themself, planning the death of the entire government is nerve-wracking.

  A random White House aide peeked her head in. "Is there anything I can get you? Anything you need?"

  "I'm good." They said. "But I will let you know if there is."

  The aid nodded and left them to their own devices.

  They ran their fingers through their hair, which they'd been trying to grow out(unsuccessfully) for years. It now hung at that awkward stage people tried to avoid- too long to be considered a bob but too short to be considered long.They tucked the longest, brown piece back and buried their face in their hands.

What if they'd fucked up? What if the person who placed the bombs fucked up?

What if somebody snitched?

They could kill them. They had the resources to.

  But then they decided to let that thought go- and cross the bridge if it came to that. They were in the White House, making them nearly untouchable in the present moment.

They were young, which ruled them out as a suspect. Though they knew better, deep down they'd managed  to convince themself that they'd get away with it.

They scrolled through their cell phone, texting the hundreds of people who hadn't acknowledged their existence in months but suddenly wanted to talk.

I'm not surprised, they thought to themself. People had always been fucking selfish. The messages were all variants of "Are you okay?" Or "We haven't seen each other in so long, we should really catch up."

The truth was that they wouldn't have cared if half of these people died in the bombing. That is how little regard they have for human life. When they had their first thought of doing this, they hadn't cared how many people it would affect or how many would grieve. It was their own selfish interests that drove them to this, and their high IQ that allowed them to think up a plan.

They stood up again, and smiled like a madman at the thought: They were going to get away with this and the one person left who could stop them was too loyal.