the ultimatum ↬ elliot alderson ✔

<f0rget07.pz>

<Four months before the hack>

I promised Shayla I'd meet up with her. The thought of going to her diner in Central Park scares me. I'm being followed; I know it. I see the men everywhere now.

I run into the subway, the doors slamming a second before I enter the carriage. I keep my hoodie up to avoid anyone from seeing me. Especially the men in black. I think they're following me. No, I'm sure they're following me.

I see one of them at the corner of my eye. It doesn't take them long for me to notice me. I tighten in my seat, looking the other way. Shit, they're following me again.

Fuck.

I can't meet with Shayla. They'll track me down. But if I go home now, they'll track me down anyway.

I'm trapped. Shit.

Do you see them too, friend?

Maybe I should think of something else. Maybe they'll go away.

Okay, let's run through facts. I need to make sure I'm not having another delusion.

Shayla's been working at a cheap diner next to Central Park for the past week. She quit her drug job and now I don't have a dealer. I need morphine. I need to drown these thoughts. I need to stop seeing the men in black. But what matters is, Shayla is happy.

No, Elliot. Don't talk about her supplier. She's happy where she is right now.

Who am I to ruin the happiness she found?

If only I could find her happiness, to be able to live in that bubble. Not knowing everything about everyone and being naive like the rest of the population.

Normality. What is considered normal?

Is the same non-changing routine normality? Is it seeing the same faces every day, talking to the same people and being able to smile normality?

Who knows. Maybe none of us are normal.

I'm very sure there is no such thing as normal. Everyone has their secrets- and I know all of them. I can find what's wrong with someone just by typing a few codes.

That's how I live in that bubble. I substitute my loneliness with intruding in people's lives. I linger; I notice trends in behaviour.

Everyone has their secrets. I happen to know them by hacking them.

I turn around to look at the men who were looking at me before. They're gone.

They must have gotten off a few stops ago.

I realise my stop is next. I check my phone before getting up from the seat, the burning feeling of people staring at me making my skin crawl.

A line would help me forget all these people that stare at me as I get off the subway. But finding a dealer is hard when you've cut your connections out. Shayla was my connection.

I know I shouldn't talk to Shayla about her supplier, but I can't move on with life without morphine. It's the only thing that's never left me.

I walk towards the diner Shayla works at, everyone around me seeming like a blur. I don't notice people's faces when I walk, because I know that if they had a good look at me, I'd be at risk.

The men in black follow me. They always follow me.

My heart races in my chest when I notice one of them standing across the street from me. I lower my gaze, pushing past people so I can cross as far away from him as possible. I feel the cold glare of the man dressed in a black suit, but the moment I turn around, the man is gone.