Knives & Bullets

Monday
Eyes darting across the room. Bullets and knives flying everywhere. He sees one get close to his neck and… “Hey… Hey! Hank! Where is your head!? You’re in a board meeting!” Hank blinks rapidly, realizing where he is. He looks around, everyone staring at him. Hank’s neck suddenly feels… something, like a knife is gently brushing his neck, or a gun’s barrel being shoved at it, the metal nearly cutting in, like they were toying with him. Hank lowers his head so that his neck would be covered by the fabric of his suit. Keeping his head down, he moves his eyes up and finally takes a minute to take in where he is. The same old office. He has been in this room, heck, in this same seat countless times, yet this time… he felt unsafe. Like his life was being threatened, not his job. Hank stood up, still keeping his neck in the safety of his clothes. He spoke, shakily, “I… I think I need some fresh air… excuse me…” Hank awkwardly left the office and quickly walked to the elevator. He hit the down button and waited… and waited. The elevator was taking longer than usual. Hank slowly started lifting his neck out of his clothes, trying to not look like an idiot around his colleagues, but the second his neck left the safety of his suit, he felt it. The knives, the guns, all of it. His mind kept imagining his neck being stabbed, shot, snapped, whatever it was, it wouldn’t stop. Hank started mashing the down button, desperately wishing it would make it arrive faster, despite knowing the truth. Hank could hear the pulley system working, the wires pulling the box that he so desperately wanted to escape to. Eons pass, at least in Hank’s mind. The elevator hasn't arrived yet. Another eon. Still. Not. There. Hank’s worry reaches its limit and he screams, “Just hurry up you piece of garbage!” Hank didn’t have to turn around to see the stares he just received from everyone around him. As if the elevator itself was listening to everything, the door opened seconds after Hank yells. Hank quickly enters the elevator, pressing the garage button, and then mashing the close door button. Not wishing to see any more faces. Hank sighs when the doors finally close, thinking that he is safe now. His car is parked close to the elevator, and no one is there during work hours. He fine. He breathes for a second… then shoves his neck back into his clothes. It’s still there.