64 Hours

33 h0urs

Longish chapter ahead. Sorry for some minor mistakes, I didn't have the time to go over it. 

~the thirty-third hour~ 

"Tell me that everything will be okay."

 "Everything will be okay." -Christina Warren, Source Code

The next hour consisted of me spilling my heart out all over Olivia while she tried to contemplate plans on how to prevent the next 64 hours to pass without major damages. I kept saying that no, there is no solution, but my ex was determined that there was a way. That's the thing about Olivia. She doesn't try to find the solution; she tries to block the solution. 

"There has to be a way," she remonstrated, plucking at her fingernails absently. 

"But there isn't," I protested weakly. 

"Yes there is." And somehow her determination rubs onto me, and I find myself putting a hand over hers. When I quickly realize what I had been doing, I snatched my hand away with heat flooding through my neck. Embarrased, I look away. 

"So...do you want to eat something? Take your mind off things?" Olivia suggested to ease the awkwardness. 

I checked the time. Damn. It was fifteen to eight. 

So that's when I stood up and gave her a hasty kiss on her cheek, pulling away quickly after mumbling that I had to go to work (which I skipped today). Without looking back I stumbled out of the door, trying to find courage as I trotted emptily back to my car with absolutely no idea of how I was going to get through this. 

My gun is at the house. 

There is no time to rush back home and get it. It looks like it was going to be a lot more longer and painful to do it, if I even managed to do what I had in mind. It was vague and terrifying to say out loud: I was going to kill a man.

I was going to kill a man.

At the cost of jail. 

Why not negotiate with Unknown first? Why go straight for it? I'm not that gullible. I came to a halt in my car and parked in front of a cheap grocery store, then got typing.

You - 7:48 AM: What if I go to jail for murder and won't be able to complete the list? 

I waited impatiently for a reply, thrumming my fingers on the steering wheel pensively. But there was a hope somewhere inside me that Unknown will finally see the fault and nonsense of this intruction and call it off. 

Unknown - 7:50 AM: That's already handled. 

I replied immediately. 

You - 7:50 AM: What do you mean 'handled'? 

Unknown - 7:51 AM: It means that you won't go to jail. Don't worry, Browning. You get to do the easy part. 

You - 7:51 AM: You psychotic bastard. 

Unknown - 7:51 AM: If I'm psychotic then why are you going to kill an innocent?

You - 7:52 AM: You're playing with things. Let's just talk in person and you can tell me what I did wrong to you, and handle this like real men. There's no need for playing games.

It took a bit longer than I expected for a reply. 

Unknown - 7:54 AM: Why talk when we can have some real fun?