Mr Muir part 2

The tiny blue alarm clocked beeped fitfully in my room as my eyes shot open. I shove my hand down on the off button and roll out of bed. I check my breakfast schedule: toast with a glass of milk followed by my medication. I eat toast with jam and drink a glass of milk. Following breakfast I wash my hands and then get ready for work. I don’t bother to double check my schedule, instead I cross out the morning’s activities regardless of their state of completeness. I glance at my watch: 7:53 AM. I have 5 minutes before I need to head over to the bus stop. I open the in the staircase and head down to the basement, fumbling and flailing my arm around for the light switch at the bottom. An audible clack sounds as my hand finds the switch and the dusty room illuminates where I find what I’m looking for.
 I take my regular route to arrive at work like I normally do, 8:58 AM. I enter the office and my douchebag boss wheels out from his office to stop me. He has the same sky-blue shirt and slicked-back hair style he did yesterday.
 “Kirby! Ready to get started and save the planet today? I hope you took public transit today,” he says, ending every sentence with rising intonation.
 “Yes, sir, I’m ready.”
 “Alright, let’s get to work,” he signs dual finger guns–or finger indicators as he calls them–at me before rolling back into his office.
 I give Jack a nod of acknowledgment as I pass him on my way to my desk. Doreen isn’t here again but that doesn’t really matter. I cross out my morning activities on my work schedule as I wait for my computer to start. I hear the office door open and Doreen strides over to her desk, her face looking more composed compared to yesterday’s. She doesn’t greet and instead stares at the phone on her desk. Despite my urge to observe what she’ll do, I need to keep up my appearance so I sign into my desktop account and launch the telemarketing software, filtering for ‘Uncalled’ once again. I dial the first number that appears in the list and the phone rings for a few beats. I hear a woman’s voice answer but she says something I can’t understand. I open with my canned line but I’m cut off by an angry tirade in a language I don’t know, possibly Chinese. I hang up the phone and mark the number as ‘Called’ in the system.
 Doreen, who had until now been motionless, snatches the phone from the receiver and punches in a number.
 “Hi, Tony. I’d like to apologiz– No, don’t start that with me. Listen here, Tony…”
 There’s a long moment of silence, I notice Jack out of the corner of my eye has paused last night’s hockey game and is listening.
 “No, don’t start that with me, Tony. Forget it. I hope you’re happy with that whore,” she sneers, pausing for a moment then continuing, “you know what, Tony? Go… go fuck yourself.” And with that she slams the phone back into the receiver, letting off a satisfied snort.
 Jack resumes watching his hockey game and I hastily dial the next phone number on my list, lest I be caught in some idle chatter about what just transpired.
 At noon I pause my work and take out my lunch. Doreen takes this opportunity to turn over and talk to me.
 “I’m sorry about earlier, Kirby. It must have been uncomfortable for you and the rest of the office to hear me air my dirty laundry like that.”
 “…Don’t worry about it, water under the bridge. Besides, that guy sounded like a real jerk anyway.”
 “Haha, thanks, Kirby.”
 “Uh, say, Doreen, you know, I just had a thought. Why don’t I invite you over to my place tonight for dinner. Nothing a good meal can’t fix, as my mom always says.”
 She never says that.
 “Thanks, Kirby. Um, yeah, you know what, sure, that sounds good.”
 “Perfect, come by around eight.”
 “Alright. Anyway, I’m going to go apologize to Jack and our boss.”
 I smile and nod.
 That evening I prepare a casserole made of ground chicken and some canned vegetables I had in my cupboard. The meal isn’t really that important, as long as it looks like I put in effort is what’s important. I take two glasses and pour some of the liquid from the item I retrieved from the basement this morning. The liquid gives off a putrid vinegary smell. I grab my packet of medication and pulverize and few capsules, adding it to Doreen’s glass. The doorbell rings and I pause what I’m doing, staring in the direction of the door. I open the door and let her in. We make brief small talk before I invite her over to the dinner table.
 “Wow, you made this? It looks great, Kirby,” she says.
 “Please, eat up. And, have some wine while you’re at it.”
 “I’ll do just that,” she says while grabbing the wine glass and taking a sip. She smacks her lips after a swig from the glass.
 The evening proceeds as planned, the wine bottle slowly empties over the evening.
 “… and you know our boss? Like, what… what is his deal? Haha. He’s such a douchebag,” Doreen says while slurring her words.
 “Yeah, he’s a bit of faggot,” I concur.
 “Haha! Kirby! Kirby, you can’t say that… Ugh, Tony… you know, you know that asshole already has a new girlfriend? I can’t believe him.”
 “Yeah, who does that. Why would he pass up on such a pretty girl like you?”
 “Aww, Kirby, you’re so sweet. Thanks for being such a good listener.”
 By now Doreen is well and truly intoxicated and the medication I mixed in earlier has made her drowsy and sluggish. I help her along to my bedroom where she lies down on my bed. I leave her there and head into the hallway, pacing back and forth.
 “You know, Kirby, I can be anything you want me to be. Haha… except for a couple things,” she calls out from the room.
 Thinking about how Doreen has ruined my schedule lately makes me lose control of my muscles as they violently tremble. I shove my hand into my pocket and rip out my medication, shoving into my mouth whatever I can get my hand on.
 “Kirby~.”
 This needs to be taken care of. I enter the room and stand over Doreen. She appears to have passed out now. I reach up her skirt and begin to pull down her stockings, awkwardly moving between the waist band and the feet of the stockings to pull them off. My hands get clammy and I feel sweat run down my brow. The stockings are off. I grab one end and wrap it around my hand. I gently slide the stockings under Doreen’s head until they are behind her neck. I gently and deliberately cross my arms over with the stockings’ ends in hand; pausing; staring.
 I yank the stockings away in the opposite direction, pushing down hard with my body to keep Doreen in place. Her eyes flash open. Terror. She tries to scream but I’ve wrapped the stockings too tightly. She begins to claw at me and throw me off but I only increase my pressure and pull harder. I can see her eyes rolling back and her face turning blue. Her arms no longer have the strength they just did. Weaker. Weaker until she stops moving. I stay there holding the stockings over her neck for a few minutes, pulling even tighter. I slowly get off from on top of her and stand back against the wall. What have I done? I can’t believe she’s dead. What am I supposed to do now, I wonder.
 I flee the bedroom and run downstairs to the living room. I grab my schedule and start crossing off activities but this doesn’t abate my agitation. I throw the calendar to the side and reach for some more medication, this time crushing a capsule in my hand and snorting it. A wave of euphoria flashes through me as the drug enters my body. I grab my head and hold onto a bookcase to steady myself. My knees shake and my vision begins to blur. I stumble over to the couch and sit down. My mind continues to race as my body relaxes starting from the top of my head and running all the way down to my toes. My eyes close and I let myself be taken away to sleep.