The Station

This was it. I feel like I should be scared or worried, but in reality, no one knows. No one knows what’s about to happen. I feel like i’m getting away away with murder. Each time I look down at the leather case, I can’t help but feel my stomach drop and my hands become sweaty. Isn’t this a sign that I shouldn’t go through with it? Whatever. As I drive down to the station, I feel as if I’m being watched, it might be my anxiety getting the best of me, but what if I’m right? What if EVERYONE knows what i’m doing? What if everyone knows the lives I’m about to ruin for my own monetary gain? If I make it obvious, people will get suspicious. But really who cares? I won’t let my thoughts get the best of me anyways. I turn on the radio and some old jazz music plays, It’s far more relaxing then listening to my thoughts. I wish I had someone else with me, maybe I’d be more relieved if I had a friend, sadly, I’m not allowed to make contact with anyone throughout this entire process. About 30 minutes pass, I stop at a gas station. I skipped breakfast so I figured there’s no harm in grabbing a quick snack. When I pulled in, I just sat there, staring at the case. Should I take it in? Should I leave it here? Should i hide it and go in without it? As stupid as I might look, I have to protect this case with my life. I grabbed the case and walked inside, going as quickly as I can, I bought a burrito and an iced coffee, nothing too special if I’m being honest. People couldn’t help but stare at me. What the hell am I supposed to do? Give them an explanation? I was scared someone might ask what I was doing with it, I’m not dressed like i’m going to any business meeting, they might actually get suspicious and call the cops then It’s game over for me. All I could do was act like I didn’t see them. I swear, after this I’m NEVER getting in a situation like this ever again...That’s if I even make it out of this one. Back on the road again, my jazz music turned into gospel. I’ve almost arrived at the station. Not even 5 minutes into the drive, I became weary of my current predicament. They could easily expose my identity on illegal stuff like this, I become America’s most wanted, and boom....I’m on the run....or maybe they decide to kill me on the spot, why does my mind always go to the dark sides of things? I knew I shouldn’t have done this but i’m too deep in. I see the station ahead of me some time later, I pull up and get out, someone is already waiting for me at the door and he escorts me to a corridor, surprisingly, no one’s in it....? I hold out the case and open it slowly. The man I’m exchanging with, opens his case to stacks and stacks of money. “You’ve done well, Royll.” He says in a deep, mischievous tone, his voice is deeper and raspier than I would’ve expected, he was so tall and his men were even taller, his eyes had a deep void color and his skin was awfully smooth looking, “I began to grow worried that you wouldn’t carry through then we’d have to take matters into our own hands. But I see you’re highly trustworthy.” “I would never mess with you Mr. Orlando, sir.” Jesus what’s wrong with me? Just act normal. “Please, just call me Orlando, sweetheart. Keep my contact on you, I plan to have more... ”business with you.” I smile a little and nod my head, relieved of the amount of stress this entire thing has put me through. His facial expression shows some sort if evil satisfaction to it. I already know why but it still gave me the chills. I took his case and he took mine. “Hopefully you’ll be able to work for us more in the future.” He gently grabs my hand, placing a kiss on it as he walks away, at least 5 guards on each side of him. I left after that without a single problem. What’s in the case I brought him, you might be wondering? 14 pounds of Zimalinc, a chemical used to make just about anything poisonous, it only takes a thin layer of zima to make a bullet poisonous, it only takes a single drop of zima to make an entire turkey deadly. I managed to get my hands on so much through “connections”. Do I feel bad? Of course. Did I just become $2.5million dollars richer? Hell yeah. I don’t think i‘ve ever felt this good and bad at the same time but maybe it’ll pass. I don’t know any of the people he’s going to use it on anyways...not sure if that makes it better or worse but whatever. All that matters is me, my money, and my life. He guaranteed my safety and I’m trusting that. He’s done business with many people and none of them have been hurt or killed due to business with him. I have no idea what his actual bame is, but his nickname is Orlando. He’s only the most ruthless, unstoppable, and powerful mob boss there is. If I wanted to, I could’ve joined the mob but, I want to live my life without worrying about getting killed on a daily basis. I promised myself I wouldn’t do this anymore and I plan on keeping that promise. Nightfall comes and its time to hit the hay, for awhile i laid in my bed staring at the ceiling, thinking of almost everything remotely possible he could be doing with the zima right now. What did he even need 14lbs if it for? What will I do if he contacts me again? Say no? My protection might disappear right after I say no. I can’t just block his number, he’d know. Jesus I need sleep, no more thinking about this. Ikeep the case of money under my bed and I drift off to sleep.