“So, now what?” Adalwolf asked. “You can fight it, you know. He’s supposed to give you at least a month’s notice. Not only that, but—”

Emerson let out a noisy sigh, his backpack with a few things stuff in it slung over his shoulder. What was he supposed to do? What did he have left? He was out of money, out of a job, out of a home... out of options.

He couldn’t go back to school, he just couldn’t. Chase Dawson would be there, ready to cause more trouble.

He couldn’t go home either. The last thing he wanted was to be a burden on his parents anymore. So, where was he supposed to go?

“Hey, Blakemore!” Adalwolf snapped his fingers in Emerson’s face to get his attention. He had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry… Don’t worry about me, Wolf, okay?” Emerson shook his head. “I’m gonna go to the library for a while. If I need you, I’ll call. I still have my phone for a few weeks, at least.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he lied for the thousandth time.

Once he’d convinced Adalwolf that he’d be all right on his own, he headed off in the direction of the public library. He didn’t know what would happen when he got there, but it was worth a shot, wasn’t it? In the worst case, he’d eventually just have to find a place to sleep. Maybe a bench in the park would be okay.

At first, he avoided going there right away. He spent most of the morning wandering around town, not that there was much to see. In fact, he made several laps around Cicada Hollow before he was too cold and exhausted to keep killing time. So, he headed into the warmth of the library.

Standing outside of the conference room, Emerson wondered if they’d even be there again. He shifted his bag onto his other shoulder and reached for the handle, but the door swung open before he even reached it.

“This is such bullshit!” a young man shouted, nearly colliding with Emerson. He stormed out, muttering loudly to himself. “Fucking ridiculous! Asking me to sign a job offer without telling me what it is.”

Emerson slipped quietly into the conference room before the door shut. It looked the same as it always did, with most of the chairs pushed in at the long wooden table.

Evangeline and Donovan were down at the end, talking quietly between themselves, and Emerson eyes their outfits, wondering how nice it must be to have the money to spend. Donovan was in another expensive suit, and Evangeline wore a short black skirt with a buttoned-up blazer. They were dressed to the nines again, and Emerson was in the same outfit he’d been wearing the day before.

Since they didn’t notice him, Emerson cleared his throat. They both looked up at him, but neither of them spoke at first.

What should he say? Would they even bother reconsidering him after the way he’d stormed off during the interview? They were still looking for someone, obviously, so maybe there was a bit of hope.

“Um…” Emerson cleared his throat again, his chest tight while they stared at him. “I just… wanted to apologize for the way I ran out of here yesterday. And I wanted to know… Well, I was hoping… that, uh… that maybe we could forget that, and maybe try again?”

Evangeline and Donovan shared a look before she tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned in, whispering something in Donovan’s ear. Were they going to give him a chance? Was there going to be more that he would have to do before they gave him the job? The lack of details nipped at the back of his mind, but he pushed it away. This was the only option he had left. He was desperate. He needed money to get his life together without anyone else’s help, and he was ready to do anything to make ends meet.

“So…” Evangeline tapped her nails on the table, eyeing him up and down with those judgmental brown eyes. “What changed your mind?”

“Nothing,” Emerson said, shifting his bag to his other shoulder. Should he tell her how desperate he was? He had already said he wasn’t. No… they didn’t need to know that he was homeless now. He could keep that to himself. “I came here, fully intent on taking the job, no matter what, and I wasn’t thinking straight. Now that I’ve cooled off, I really do want a chance.”

“I was hoping you’d come back,” Donovan chimed in. “We both were, actually. No one else we’ve interviewed has as much potential as you.”

“What do you mean?”

“An interview is essentially an opportunity for you to sell yourself to an employer,” he explained, neatening a stack of paperwork. “Unfortunately, this means that many people lie, whether it be a small twist of truth or a complete fabrication. It’s a marketing tactic. We’ve had people in and out of here every single day since we put out that ad in the newspaper, and every single one of them has lied through their teeth about one thing or another.”

“Except you,” Evangeline said.

“Me?” Emerson couldn’t help but laugh a bit. What had he done? They weren’t going to give him a job just for being honest, were they?

“It may sound silly,” Donovan explained, “but honesty is one of the most important things we’ve been looking for. This job requires a great deal of trust, as you will be spending long periods of time with the Employer. If we can’t trust you, then neither can he.”

Donovan opened a folder, looking through the papers until he found what he wanted. He laid the paper out on the table with a pen, looking expectantly at Emerson.

“This is the job offer if you’re really serious about this. Read it, and decide if you can handle it.”

“You’re not going to throw anything at me if I come over there, are you?” Emerson asked, eyeing Evangeline suspiciously, and Donovan laughed.

“No, it’s perfectly safe.”

Emerson went to the seat where Donovan had laid the paper. He let out a heavy sigh as he sat, letting his heavy backpack drop to the floor with a loud thud. It was nice to be off his feet, and he was exhausted. He felt like he could have leaned back in the chair right then and slept for the rest of the day. It must have shown on his face too, because as he reached for the pen, Donovan snatched it away.

“Why do you look so tired,” Donovan asked, eyeing him up and down, “and why are you in the same outfit you wore yesterday?”

Emerson hadn’t planned on telling him what had happened, but it seemed he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t make something up—they had just praised him on his honestly. He lowered his hand, tapping his fingers nervously on the table.

“I… Uh…” Emerson sighed. “I got kicked out of my apartment this morning. I was just getting home, so I didn’t have a chance to shower or change.”

“Why did you get kicked out?”

Why did these people care so much about his personal life? Did they actually care, or were they looking for someone to do their job?

“Um… Well…” He stared down at the contract, folding and unfolding the corner of the paper. Would the truth hurt his chances of getting the job? “I got fired from my job, and couldn’t pay the rent.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Donovan said. He had a dark, distant look on his face. “No, that won’t do at all.”

Emerson’s heart dropped. They were going to take back the offer just because he couldn’t pay the rent?

“We’ll have to set you up in a hotel,” Evangeline said. “It will be temporary, of course, just until we can get you into a real apartment."

"I'm not looking for pity,” Emerson told them. “I don’t need any charity.”

“It’s not charity,” Donovan said in a very matter-of-fact tone. “It’s part of the job, actually. It’s better, even for those who already have homes and families. It keeps loved ones from getting too involved.”

“Involved in what?”

“Nothing you need to worry about right now.” Donovan then turned to Evangeline. “Call Montague Suites. Get this squared away.”

Evangeline nodded and stood, leaving them alone in the conference room. Emerson was still waiting for him to give the pen back. He just wanted to sign the contract and get it over with.

“Now,” Donovan said, “I’m not allowed to give you too many details of this job, but I can tell you this: it’s not for the faint of heart. It comes with a certain amount of risk and uncertainty. You can get hurt real bad. You’re the best candidate because you’re obviously a good, honest kid, and you appear accustomed to the conditions you might find yourself in.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Have you looked in the mirror recently, kid?”

Emerson didn’t need to ask—he knew the state of his face at the moment from getting his ass kicked by Chase Dawson and his friends. He didn’t really fancy the idea of getting his ass kicked again, but his mind was already made up about the job.

“I still want this job. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he told Donovan, who just nodded and put the pen down in front of him.

The contract was almost as vague as the ad in the newspaper. It didn’t say anything about what the job was, only things like his pay and his work hours.

Dear Mr. Blakemore,

On behalf of the Employer, we are pleased to offer you a permanent position within our company. In this position, you will report directly to either Donovan Crane or Evangeline Walsh. Your start date will be 7 days after signing this contract.

Your compensation package includes the following:

Annual salary of $100,000 per year, with your first performance review after six months of employment. This will be paid to you in monthly installments to a personal checking account on the 1st of each month.

Bonus opportunity of 6% based on performance, growth, and company goal achievement.

Three weeks of vacation time per year.

Room and Board, provided directly by the Employer.

Life insurance, Long/Short-Term Disability, and health insurance.

Dental and Vision insurance.

A company-provided vehicle and mobile phone.

If you accept this offer, you must maintain open availability, with personal days or hours up for discussion with your direct supervisors.

In 7 days from signing this contract below, please report to Cicada Hollow Financial, 1st Floor, at 6am for your orientation. If this date and time are not acceptable, please contact Donovan or Evangeline for rescheduling.

Please bring the following with you to orientation:

A Government-issued photo ID.

Work references, if applicable.

Please wear loose-fitting, comfortable clothing.

We believe that you will make great contributions to the success of our Company, and we look forward to working with you.

“Wow,” Emerson uttered under his breath. He has to read the document over a few times. It was too good to be true, wasn’t it? They were offering him literally everything he could possibly need.

But what was the job? It was something that continued to nip at the back of Emerson’s mind, even though he did his best to ignore that nagging feeling. It couldn’t be anything that bad, could it? It wasn’t like it was going to get him killed or anything.

Swallowing back his apprehension, he took up the pen in his left hand and put it to paper.

Emerson held the paper in his hands for a few seconds, staring at his signature, then let out a long breath. No turning back. He slid the contract over to Donovan, hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake.

“Well…” Donovan took the contract, tucking it into his folder and giving Emerson a quick smile. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Blakemore.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“So, you can tell me what the job is now, right?” Emerson questioned, but Donovan shook his head.

“I’m not authorized to do so. That task will be left to the Employer.”

“The Employer…” Emerson tapped his fingers on the table. “What kind of name is that? What’s his real name?”

“If he wants you to know that, it’s up to him.” What was up with all the secrecy? “You’ll meet him next week, as the contract stated. For now, let’s get you settled. Follow me.”

Emerson kept quiet as he followed Donovan out of the library, where Evangeline was waiting beside a large black luxury car.

What could he say, anyway? He was just waiting to wake up, still lying on the sidewalk where Chase Dawson had left him three days ago. There was no way this could all be happening for real.

“You look troubled,” Donovan noted. He was sitting across from Emerson in the back seat of the car.

Emerson had been off in his own world, not even realizing the car had been moving. He was trying to make sense of everything that had happened in such a short timeframe.

Everything he’d ever wanted and needed was being handed to him, and all he’d done was sign his name on one piece of paper. At this point, he didn’t even care what the job was anymore. Donovan had mentioned that it might be a bit dangerous, but it would all be worth it, wouldn’t it? Considering how much they were offering in exchange for his service, Emerson was willing to handle a few more fist fights.

“Mr. Blakemore?”

“Huh?” Emerson hadn’t even realized that Donovan had been speaking. The man’s brow was furrowed with concern as he eyed him from head to toe. “Did you say something?”

“I said a few things.” Donovan leaned back in his seat. “What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know.” Emerson let out a sigh and leaned against the window. “I just can’t seem to grasp this situation. I’ve been trying for years to get my life together, and nothing I’ve done has gotten me to a better place. Then, today, all I did was sign that contract, and everything I could never get on my own is within my reach.”

“I already told you,” Donovan replied, “this job comes with a great deal of danger and uncertainty. As I’ve also told you, I can’t really give you the details, but I will tell you this: at some point, you may be asked to put your life on the line. This isn’t charity, kid—it’s compensation for the danger that you will be putting yourself into by accepting this job.”

Emerson rested his chin against his hand and stared out the window, a large knot in his stomach. Putting his life on the line, huh? So, it must be some kind of bodyguard job, right? Was he really prepared to do that for someone he’d never met?

He didn’t have to look at it that way, though. After all, if someone was going to try to kill this Employer guy, then they’d probably be trying to kill Emerson too. So, he wasn’t so much protecting the Employer as he was fighting for his own life. Fighting for himself sounded a lot better than fighting for a stranger. Couldn’t the Employer fight his own battles?

Emerson was hesitant when they reached their destination. Montague Luxury Suites. Montague was a big name, pretty much everywhere in the country. In fact, one night in one of the Montague hotels cost more than what Emerson had been paying Camlin Edwards for his monthly rent. It was a place that Emerson would never have been able to afford on his own.

“Are you sure about this?” Emerson asked, shifting his bag onto his shoulder as he got out of the car. “I mean, me staying here?”

“I don’t like having to repeat myself,” Donovan said, sticking his hands in his pockets. He didn’t get out of the car, and neither did Evangeline. “It’s part of the job, so just enjoy it. Once you meet the Employer, if he decides to keep you around, you won’t have much free time anymore.”

Before Emerson could respond, Evangeline pulled the car door shut, and the drove away, leaving him standing alone in the parking lot. Emerson kind of hated how Donovan always just decided when the conversation was over. He sighed and switched his backpack to his other shoulder, then headed inside.

The hotel lobby was warm and bright, filled with multiple seating areas that each had their own electric fireplace. On the wall beside the reception desk, a large flatscreen monitor showed the weather, bus schedules, and advertisements. The floor was a combination of marble tile and bright white carpeting, and there were crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings.

Emerson was in awe, and felt completely out of place. He wasn’t the kind of person who would ever stay in such a high-class place. Most of the people in the lobby were dressed very well, like lawyers and businessmen.

“Can I help you?” a young woman called from behind the desk. She eyes Emerson up and down with disdain. He probably looked like some crazy person who’d wandered in from the street.

"Uh..." Emerson moved quickly to the desk, avoiding the gawking stares of people in the lobby. What a sighed he must have been, all bruised and disheveled with nothing but a backpack. “Yeah, I’m supposed to be staying here, I guess.”

“Oh?” The woman’s eyes widened in surprise. Of course she was shocked. “Let me check the list of reservations. What’s your name? And I’ll need some identification.”

“Sure. My name’s Emerson Blakemore.”

Emerson took his wallet out of his pocket, doing his best to keep his attention on the receptionist. He could feel everyone staring at him, but he wasn’t going to say anything. The last thing he needed was to start a fight in a hotel lobby.

He sighed quietly as he took out his driver’s license. He didn’t use it very often. At least, not since he totaled his last car. He had just gotten it back from that, too. It’d been taken away from him for two years due to the fact that he’d been drunk and doing drugs at the time. It was probably one of the lowest points in Emerson’s life. He’d spent six months in prison, too, and his mother didn’t speak to him for weeks.

“Mr. Blakemore?”

Emerson’s attention snapped up to the receptionist, who had her hand held out, waiting impatiently for him to hand over his ID. He really needed to stop zoning out. If his new job was anything like his wild imagination thought it could be, he couldn’t afford to be lost in his own thoughts.

“Sorry,” he said, placing the license in her hand.

“Well, everything seems to be in order,” she said, her gaze moving back and forth between the computer screen and his ID. “Would you like one key or two?”

“Uh… Two, I guess. Just in case.”

“Sure.” She didn’t seem all that thrilled that Emerson was staying in such a high-class place, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to shower and get some sleep. “You’re on the tenth floor.”

“Okay. And the room number?”

“There isn’t one,” she told him. “It’s just the tenth floor.”

Emerson’s head was spinning as the receptionist direction him to the elevators. He had to swipe the keycard she’d given him before the elevator would even let him press the button to the floor.

“An entire floor?” Emerson muttered to himself. “That can’t be right.”

When he reached his floor and the doors opened, there was only a small area between him and another door. He kicked his sneakers off there on the tile, afraid to get any of the carpeting inside dirty. When he opened the door to the suite, his jaw dropped.

He walked into a huge sitting area, bigger than his whole apartment had been. There were couches and a large flatscreen TV over an electric fireplace, and a huge chandelier lit the area.

There was a kitchen with every appliance Emerson could imagine he’d ever need, not that he ate much anyway. He probably wouldn’t use anything in there. To the right of the kitchen there was a dining area with a table big enough for maybe ten people, and another chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

The bathroom was just as elegant as everything else. There was a clawfoot tub and a separate shower, and even a hot tub. What fantasy world had Emerson been transported to? He couldn’t even imagine how much it was costing him to stay in such a place.

He didn’t bother checking out the rest of the suite. He needed a shower. He dumped all his dirty clothes in a pile in the corn of the room, running the water until it was nice and hot.

He stayed in there, scrubbing until his skin was red and raw. After everything that had happened, he felt like he couldn’t get clean enough. He might have stayed in there longer if his body didn’t ache for rest.

When he got out, Emerson stood in front of a mirror that was next to the sink. It was about as tall as he was, and it was the first time he got a really good look at himself.

What a mess.

His arms were still bruised from his encounter with Chase Dawson, not to mention all the old scars that covered his body. They were all from various things, most fights, but also accidents, drug abuse, and car crashes. He ran his tongue over the cut on his lip from where Chase had kicked him. There was definitely going to be a scar.

At least the bruises on his face were starting to fade. Hopefully they’d be gone by the time he had his meeting with the Employer. What kind of name was that anyway? Why was his identity such a big secret?

He didn’t even bother getting dressed into anything besides his underwear—he was too tired, and made his way to the only part of the suite he hadn’t explored. The large white door was silent as it swung open.

There wasn’t much to see in the bedroom, but it didn’t matter. At that point, all Emerson cared about was the bed. It looked large and inviting, and he didn’t waste a second before crawling under the covers. He didn’t even care that it was the middle of the afternoon. He buried his face into the soft pillows with a groan, and there was no time for any of his thoughts to plague him before he was out.

He only slept for a few hours, but it felt like the most sleep he’d gotten in weeks. He rolled onto his back, rubbing his face before he forced himself to get up and go to the bathroom.

While he was in the bathroom, he fished his cell phone from the pile of dirty clothes he’d left on the floor. He was surprised to see all the missed calls and text messages he had—no one ever called him.

Most of the texts were from Adalwolf, while most of the calls were from his father. His heart started to race when he saw that he had a few texts from Lucy.

Emerson Blakemore! This Lucy. Where has you been? I am giving your number from Adalwolf.

Why you don’t answer?

Emerson Blakemore you big jerk. You are to be coming by my dorm in the morning, si?

Emerson wasn’t all that worried about Lucy. He would just go see her in the morning when she got out of class. What worried him the most was the amount of missed calls from his parents. His mother had even left him a voicemail.

“Emmy? This is your mother. Please call me back. Your father and I have been trying to get a hold of you for two days. What is going on down there? You never return my calls. I know you’re not in school anymore, so where are you? Call me back, Emmy, please.”

Emerson let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. It was getting too long, and fell over his eyes.

“What am I gonna tell Mom?” he asked himself, and sighed again. He already knew she was upset about him being kicked out of school, but he hadn’t spoke to her about it yet. She never took well to anything that Emerson did when he got himself into trouble. Dad had always been the understanding one, trying to get him help.

Emerson lay back in bed, cell phone in hand. He just stared at his parents’ home number for a while, trying to build up the nerve to make the call. He would have to do it sooner or later. If he didn’t, Mom would probably just show up at his old apartment. If she did that, it would only make it worse, especially since he’d told Dad he was fine before being kicked out for not paying rent.

“Dammit,” Emerson muttered before pressing his thumb to the call button.

He turned on the speaker and rested the phone on his chest, laying with his eyes closed while he listened to it ring. He didn’t know what his parents were going to say, but he was sure it wouldn’t be good.

“Emerson Michael Blakemore!”

Emerson cringed at his mother’s shrill voice, shouting his full name into the phone. That always meant he was in trouble.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Emmy, where have you been? It’s almost midnight! We’ve been trying to call you all day! Your landlord called us to pick up your things, and you were nowhere to be found! We’ve been so worried about you!”

“Hun, calm down,” the voice of Emerson’s father echoed in the background. “Give the poor kid a chance to speak.”

“Why haven’t you answered our calls? Where are you? Why didn’t you tell us that you needed money for rent?”

“I’m fine, Mom.” Emerson sighed, listening to his parent bicker in the background. Dad was trying to calm her down, but it wasn’t really working.

“What do you mean you’re fine? How can you be fine? You’ve been kicked out of school, kicked out of your apartment, and you don’t have a job! I can’t even begin to explain how worried sick I’ve been over you, Emmy.”

“I just got a new job, Mom. Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a place to stay ‘til I can get on my feet, and I start the job next week. I’m gonna pay you and Dad back for all the tuition money, too.”

“Em?” His father’s voice came in louder. He must have picked up the other house phone. “Em, listen to me. Why don’t you just come home? We talked about this. You don’t have to lie—we’re here if you need us.”

“I told you, Dad, I have to do this on my own. Please, just let me figure it out.”

“Emerson Michael Blakemore, you listen to your father! I want you to come home right now! Tell us where you are so we can come get you.”

“No, Mom. I’m not coming home. I’m old enough to make my own choices, and you and Dad have bailed me out of my mistakes more than enough times. I have to go.”

“But Emmy, you—”

“Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad. I love you guys.”

Emerson hung up before his parents could say anything else. He had known they’d be upset, especially his mother.

“Oh, well,” he sighed, rolling over onto his stomach. The pillows were cool and soft, and even though he felt more rested, he must have been more exhausted than he thought. As soon as he got into a comfortable position, which wasn’t difficult in that bed, he was in a deep sleep again.

There was a loud bang, and Emerson jolted, finding himself in his old apartment, crouched over behind his overturned couch. The entire place was in shambles, and a sharp pain went through his leg. It was bleeding from a gaping hole in his thigh.

“What the fuck?” Emerson clenched his teeth with a hiss, gripping his injured leg.

“Come out where I can see you,” a strange, distorted voice demanded, and Emerson could hear heavy footfalls pacing around the room. “I know you’re over there, so don’t try anything funny.”

Taking slow, deep breaths, Emerson looked around for some way to escape, but he was cornered on the wrong side of the apartment. He certainly couldn’t jump out the window. He wasn’t even sure if he was able to walk with his injured leg.

He inhaled a sharp breath as his gaze fell on a handgun that lay on the floor a few feet from his hiding place. If he could just get his hands on it, then maybe—

“I’m going to count to three, and then I’m going to come over there and kill you,” the voice said. Emerson’s heart pounded wildly. What was happening? “Come out with your hands where I can see them, and maybe I’ll consider letting you live if you tell me what I want to know.”

What did he want to know? Emerson didn’t like his chances. If he was going to die either way, he was going to go down fighting for his life.

“One…”

Emerson closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. The pain in his leg was overwhelming, but he had to just grit his teeth and push through it. He needed to get out alive.

“Two…”

What was going on anyway? When did he get to his old apartment? Was everything he’d done in the last two days just some crazy dream? Who was this person trying to kill him? What did he think Emerson knew?

“Three…”

Emerson recoiled when the wall above his head exploded from a gunshot. This guy meant business. But all Emerson had to do was get his hands on the gun on the floor, and pray it was actually loaded.

"Ready or not, here I come.”

Emerson dove for the handgun, and a gunshot sounded off to his right somewhere, blowing another hold in the wall. He grabbed the weapon and rolled to the side, blindly firing a shot in the direction of where he’d last heard the voice. A cry of pain and a loud thud told him that he’d hit his mark. It was like being in some kind of action movie, except the rush of adrenaline wasn’t exhilarating—it was more terrifying than anything he’d ever felt before.

Hands shaking and leg throbbing, Emerson gripped the gun tightly and limped his way to where the stranger lay, doing his best to navigate around broken and overturned furniture. The stranger writhed on the floor, clutching his shoulder where Emerson had shot him.

“Who are you?” Emerson asked, aiming the gun at the man and hoping he sound more confident than he felt. The stranger’s face was hidden by a strange mask, kind of like a motorcycle helmet. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Get away from me,” he demanded, forcing himself to sit up. “I’ll kill you.”

“Fuck you,” Emerson growled. He reached down to pull the man’s helmet off, but didn’t realize the guy still had his gun.

He pressed it to Emerson’s chest and pulled the trigger.

Emerson shot up in bed, gasping and drenched in sweat. He clutched his chest, trying to remember where he was. The wind outside was howling, rain hammering against the window. Every few seconds the room would be filled with bright flashes and deafening cracks of thunder.

He lay back down, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He was still in the hotel room that Evangeline and Donovan had set up for him.

“Just a nightmare,” he whispered to himself.

There was no way he could possibly go back to sleep after a dream like that, so he just lay there. He closed his eyes, listening to the storm. Every crack of thunder reminded him of the nightmare, and he flinched each time. His heart was still pounding, and eventually he decided he couldn’t stand to lay there anymore.

Pacing around the suite, unable to get any air because of the weather, he finally slumped down onto one of the couches. He was exhausted again. The little bit of rest he’d gotten had felt like it’d been torn away by the dream he’d had.

“Must be stress,” he told himself, turning onto his side. Maybe being a different spot would help him go back to sleep.

He figured he must’ve just been worked up from everything that’d happened over the last week or so. Combined with the uncertainty of his new job, he wasn’t sure what to expect, and there was a small bit of fear that kept poking at the back of his mind. He could usually ignore it, but what could he do about it while he was asleep?

“What the hell am I getting myself into?”