7. The Weekend

Saroma laid in bed and struggled to sleep. It was 4am and he was so exhausted from the turn of events that he didn't even take a shower. Saroma was horrified at his actions but at least he knew what this "rush" was and what the message talked about.

The intentional accident replayed through his mind over and over again...

Saroma took delight from imagining his manager's bones being crushed by the sheer weight of the car. He was overjoyed to think that his own trusting manager's head smashed against the bumper. And he was elated from the mental image of killing him. The thought of life leaving the body, the breath stopping and the body growing cold was relief for him.

But he rebuked these feelings.

These feelings were NOT him. He refused to believe that he was responsible. Never in his life had he thought of doing this, and even his soul had not a speck of this violent behavior. But if it wasn't him, then what was it?

Despite rushing Rocca to the hospital, and sitting in the waiting room for about 7 hours, Saroma couldn't sleep. He feared cooking anything out of the possibility that someone else might get hurt.

Rolling from side to side, Saroma shut his eyes and still became frozen even in his sleep.

He thought about quitting, but with his student debt, this was not an option. Saroma began tearing at his lips, biting the skin off. The stress was too much. He worried that his coworkers experienced the same thing, resulting in their weird obsessions. Was he safe around them? Were they safe around him?

Saroma didn't know anymore.

It was the weekend, and he couldn't visit Rocca or write a letter— still because of company policy. What would Moritie say Monday morning? Would he be fired? Would he earn a lawsuit? What if Rocca died in the hospital?! Would his career end? How would Rocca's family feel— if he even had any.

Saroma got up and out of bed. He couldn't sleep. Sleep just wasn't a possibility so, he decided to take a walk.

Saroma strolled down the dark empty street while looking at the cracks in the sidewalk. He had his hands in his pocket and his music in his ears. Stopped at the drugstore and decided to waste time there. He picked up a bag of spicy pork rinds and stopped at the refrigerator section. He didn't drink, but thought about buying some booze to take the edge off of things. However, looking at the sports drinks and cold coffees, he couldn't allow himself to develop a bad habit— like Moritie. He took out a bottle of water and went to the cashier to pay for his snack.

He paid using his card and left the store. "You find everything okay?" The cashier asked with a straight face and a tired voice. They didn't care. Buy what you need and get out.

Saroma watched the tired man scan his items and Saroma felt that twinge again. It felt like something that was forcing him to change and be different. To FEEL different. It wasn't him. He was afraid of not being able to control himself. He gave the cashier the money with shakes hands and paced out of there as quick as he could without being suspicious.

Saroma found a nicely lit place where he could sit and think. It was by a busy bar, but he didn't think of it. He devoured the rinds and cleared his palate with water, although it wasn't the tastiest drink.

A group of people came out of the bar, and they stood there at the entrance, laughing and talking for a while. Eventually, though, they departed and left. Two people walked closer to Saroma. Their arms were interlocking and they were giggling about something quietly.

Saroma heard a woman's loud chasten voice, "William Saver!" They laughed as they drew closer to the streetlight that Saroma sat under.

Saroma looked up and back down at his bottle of water. He quickly looked back up and the man's face went blank as if he had seen a ghost. He looked away from Saroma and picked up the pace.

Saroma asked, "Baser?!"

The woman was far less reluctant to stop, "Excuse me?" She asked in a sassy tone.

Saroma spoke with his hands and said, "Nothing personal, ma'am, I'm just trying to figure out— out of all the places in this city why did I run into my coworker, why here?" Saroma has a point. He didn't know where Baser lived, but there were many bars around and he just so happened to go to this one.

Baser urges his lady along, "He's not worth to time to talk to." Saroma stood up.

He asked, "Baser, I have to ask you something."

Baser quickly replied, "The only thing that you have business saying to me are work-related details. Talk to me Monday." He kept walking down the street.

Saroma trailed behind them. He couldn't give this opportunity up, "Baser, I need to know about what's going on at work!" The man split from the woman quickly and grabbed Saroma's clothes. He pulled him into the alleyway and pushed him against the wall.

Baser tried to tell him of the risk, "Do you realize the both of us could be fired for this?!" He looked around with clear anxiety.

Fired... or worse." Saroma said, letting him know of the suspicious VertMed.

The woman stood in the mouth of the alleyway and said, "Will, I'm leaving if you're not." Baser was very torn between addressing this matter and forgetting about it.

Baser went through his pockets and took out his keys, "Can you wait in the car? This will only take a second." He tossed her the keys and agreed.

Saroma didn't waste anytime, "What is the rush?" Baser took some steps back.

Through the dark he was visibly confused. "What the hell are you talking about?!"

Saroma attempted to describe it, "Its a rush of feelings that aren't you. Makes you do crazy things." Recognition was on Baser's face, but sympathy was absent.

He only said, "Deal with it. Get over it."

Saroma stopped him from leaving, much like he did with Koiz, "No. What is going on? Why is this happening?! You have it too! I know you have!" Saroma was certain that it wasn't just him that was experiencing these things. Baser would have called him crazy or insane if he didn't. Instead, he replied coldly like other relatable trials of life.

Baser jerker away and jeered, "Deal. With. It." He walked away.

Saroma stopped by the corner and asked, "Baser. What is going on!?" He continued as he paced to his car.

Baser opened the car door and said, "Better if you don't know." Baser, or Will Saver, got in his car and sped off.

Saroma was left by himself to figure all of this out by himself. He had been alone this entire time, but there was one thing that Saroma had over Baser— his name. He didn't want to , but if push came to shove, Saroma could use it against him.

But should he?