“Good morning Sir.” The lady behind the desk says. She glances my way, but I do not say anything. I try to look as if I did not acknowledge her presence.

I have a CD in my hands, a CD that contained the taste of hell. I didn’t tell this to anyone, I refuse to tell myself too.

It is all packaged up, with the next address written on it. I don’t want to hold on to it anymore. I don’t want to touch the CD, I do not want to even look at it or to hear any of it. The horrifying image of someone beating me up to death and stabbing me fills my mind, tainting it.

My stomach flips and I suddenly feel like I am going to throw up. I walk over to the counter, to the very same lady that had greeted me earlier and place the package on it. I

“Mailing within the country sir?” she asks, her eyes searching mine. Did she know? Did she know the about truth?

If she did, she should be running away from me..

I am a horrible person. Horrible beyond anything.

“Yes.” I choke out. I know I am pale and my eyes are red.
I resemble death itself, some might say.

The lady eyes me speculatively for a moment and then takes the package. I can tell that she is feeling it, checking if it was a bomb. Probably by seeing how I look she must have come to some conclusion that I might be some sort of terrorist trying to mail a bomb. I scratch my chin, my fingers catching on the stubble lining my cheeks and jaw. I hadn’t even shaved, that might have added to my disastrous appearance.

“It’s a CD.” I say, my voice soft, strained, “It’s important.”

“I see.” The woman says, tapping her finger against it. I am about to stop her, and scream at her.

I am scared that if the CD cracks and breaks, the demons and hell inside of it will come jumping out, that it will grab me by my neck and then strangle me to death.

Death is what I deserve right now. I dig my nails into my lower arm, piercing through my skin. I can feel the wet of blood against my fingers but I have no pain on my face. In fact, I look as if I was choking.

“Sir, are you alright? Do you need anything? Water? Tea? Coffee?” the lady asks again. She isn’t young, she’s quite old. She is chubby with short blonde hair that falls just below her ears.

She is not a very attractive woman, but there is something in her voice that makes me want to scream all over again. Her eyes meet mine and for a fleeting moment I panic.

Who would’ve known? Should I tell her? Should I say, “Ma’am, you are talking to a killer.” ?

I don’t know. I don’t know anything now. My brain seems frozen, jumbled up together like a pile of mush in my head. I can’t even think straight. I need something strong to calm my nerves. My eyes find the clock. It’s five forty-five in the morning. I still have school to get to.

I’ve been awake the entire night listening to the CD’s. For the past twenty-four hours, I was dragged into hell.

I wipe my hand over my damp forehead. “Water is fine.” I say, my words coming out like a strangled person.

She nods and quickly rushes away. I rub my head, feeling how damp it is and I suddenly feel disgusted. So hateful of myself.

How did I do this? How did I come to this?

The lady comes back with a small plastic cup filled with water. I slurp the cold liquid. Everything feels so numb that I don’t realise it.

“Sir? Do you want to post this, you seem rather reluctant.” She asks. I look at her, my eyes feel funny somehow.

“Please do.” I say and then rub my face, “When would it arrive at the next address?”

“A week or so, Sir?” her eyes met mine and that insecure feeling begins to rise once again.

DID .SHE.FREAKIN. KNOW?!

“Yes.” I choke out, my body seems to fail me.

“Whatever is in here, good luck.” And then she turns around and disappears to mail it. I walk out of the post office and onto the road.

I wait for a car to pass and then make my way across. I swallow the bile in my throat. When I get toschool and when I walk by the classrooms I will be forced to look into them all. When I pass by the final classroom on the third floor of my school and peer inside I will see a desk.

An empty desk will sit by the window, letting the sunlight shine right onto it. I swallow once again, heading into the nearest grocer and buying myself a beer. I flash my ID so that the cashier knows I am able to buy alcohol.

I wasn’t going to finish it.

My stomach wouldn’t hold it because when I walk by the class and look at the desk, I would only be able to see the girl who used to sit there.

A girl who was now dead.

Whoever receives the package next, I sincerely hope he taste the hell and demons does not grab him by his throat.