There was suppose to be nothing to it, a simple smash and go job. That's what Z said. Fuck Z. Z knew jack shit.
Tyler sat with his back against the wall, knees pressed into his chest to occupy as little space as possible. Four men stood sentry(more) in a hallway lit up like a surgery room. Why were four men needed to guard an office building?
It was supposed to be a simple matter of tripping the lock on the back door and grabbing the new laptops in the storage closet, second door to the right. Z had scoped it all out. The fucker hadn't mentioned security. The alarm had been nothing. Z had given him the code, but this... this was high level shit and Tyler wanted nothing to do with it. A couple hundred bucks wasn't worth getting smashed up by these guys and possibly put in jail. Z would give him shit for it, but who cares. It wasn't worth it.
He inched his way to the edge and used the chrome back of his phone to see if the coast was clear for retreat. A fifth person stood staring at selections of the soda machine. Who works this late? Goddamn addict.
Tyler suppressed a bout of shouted cursing and opted for a sigh instead. He was stuck there, guards down one hall and an over-achieving employee in the other. There was no where to hide. Fuck Z.
The footsteps of the soda-drinker grew closer and Tyler's heart pounded against his chest. He stood up and made himself as flat as possible, backpack squished into the wall, sweat beading up on his forehead. He would have to knock them out if they came this way.
Yeah, that's what he would do. Nothing to it.
Nowhere is safe. Everywhere I look, every place I go to find solace reminds me of summer, the long days of oppressive heat filled with the relief of cool nights. It clangs against my heart, beating it faster, pumping blood to my brain. I can feel the liquid course(more) in spurts through my veins, ringing in my ears and aching through my limbs. There's nothing to it. I have to get out or this anxiety will be the death of me. (less)