My own personal pocket version of hell

(The weekly writing challenge was on writing a short story about a dystopia, or basically your whole world falling apart. Here’s my little story for you. If you want to do it, click 
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/02/25/writing-challenge-dystopia/
)

I woke up that fateful day, covered in sweat, tears on my chin and a blanket. I think I’m starting to get used to the nightmares. I look out the window and it’s still the same, grey and gloomy. I look over at the clock and it’s 6:20 A.M. Usual time, usual look, it’s going to be another day, doing the same old thing. Lovely. I sigh and push myself out of bed, and head for the closet. What am I going to wear today, oh yeah the same thing I ALWAYS wear because I HAVE to wear it. I pull the uniform from the closet and begin the routine. Get dressed, do my hair, brush my teeth, shove down a bagel and head for work. I love the United States Navy. If I keep telling myself that, I just might believe it.

The drive on the I-5 is lovely this morning. The gloom, the appearance of rain 11 months out of a year.It only makes you slightly depressed. It might just be a good day. I see my exit and it’s been blocked, I have the take the next exit up. I glance over at the clock and I’ve got 30 minutes to spare. It’ll be alright, I’m determined to make a decent day out of this. I turn on the radio as I’m getting off the exit, and I stop at the light. I actually like the song on the radio, maybe this whole ‘it’s going to be a good day’ bit is working. Then I hear it, that horrifying crunch. I close my eyes and grip the steering wheel.
‘…don’t lose it. Stay calm, be nice.’

I step out of the car and walk to the rear end. I hate fiberglass, it sucks. My bumper looks like a crushed pop can. The guy stumbles over to me, I’m not sure if he’s tired or drunk. Once he starts jabbering off how sorry he is, I realize he’s drunk. It’s 7 AM you douche, can’t you find a DECENT time to start your habit? I just nod my head, and collect his insurance information. I refuse to let this get to me. My car isn’t THAT bad. I finish the drive to work, and I get to the gate. The gate guard has a wise crack. They always do.

“Nice bumper.” Oh gee, aren’t you the intellectual genius? What an observation there, Einstein!
“Yeah, I had a rough morning.” I’m trying damn it. I’ll just grab an extra cup of coffee. Coffee fixes everything. I parked and got my purse out of the car. I grabbed the cover and put it on. As I walked inside, I see my boss. He’s walking up the stairs with his briefcase packed. Oh goodie, it’s going to be a long tedious day. I just knew it. Let’s just hope it didn’t get better.

I started working on the copious amount of paperwork that gets stacked on my desk, trying not to fall asleep with the motions. This was such interesting work after all. My pocket starts to vibrate. Maybe something to save me from this hell? I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up the text.

“We need to talk when you get home.” It’s from my husband. Just great, what did I do now? I probably left the dishes in the dishwasher or something. I don’t need this crap today, come on. I respond with a simple ‘what’s up?’. I don’t want to wait until I get home to hear the bitching.
“Dettachments been bumped up. I leave Friday.” My heart sank. Yeah, today’s definitely NOT going to be a good day. My husband wasn’t supposed to be leaving for another month, what the hell? I had to get my parents up here a month faster, I had to get pictures, the car, oh my aching skull. I throw my pen and rub my temples. This is ridiculous. Why can’t I ever get ahead? I start to feel sick, oh lord. I excuse myself to the bathroom to begin throwing up the coffee I just had about an hour prior. Great, I have a crushed bumper, my husbands leaving, and now I’m sick. I wash my hands, fix my hair and just sigh. I think I’m going to take a half day. I want to go hide under my covers. Then it hits me. I race to pull that stick outta my pocket. I just stare at it.

“I had better not be. If I am.” I look up at the ceiling “This is one sick and twisted joke.” I walk back to the bathroom, undress the bottom half of me and unravel the plastic wrapping from the stick. I uncap it, and go pee. Then the waiting game begins. I set it down behind me and don’t look at it. I just waited. My watch beeped at me, like it was all excited for me. I turn around and pick it up.

Two lines. Great. I tossed it, and I redressed, flushed and walked towards the sink. I just stare in the mirror. ‘Great day my ass.’  I don’t want kids, I didn’t want kids. Now I have a kid. My husband is leaving in four days for nine months. Goodie, I have a kid alone. I wash my hands and walk out of the bathroom. I walked into my bosses office and request a half day. He asks why. Of course he asked why. I didn’t have the patience to come up with some bullshit story.
“I’m pregnant, sick, my husband’s leaving unexpectedly on Friday, and my car got rear ended. What do you think?”
He just looked at me shocked. I never talked like that to him, he didn’t expect it, not from me. He just nodded his head. Good man, at this point, if he had of said no I would have just left. It’s been one of those days. I love my chief sometimes though, he has his good moments, however, he is still my boss. I drove back home, and peeled off my clothes. I crawled into bed placing a bucket next to me under the floor. I pulled the covers over my head and closed my eyes. My doors were locked, my phone was off.

‘Oh yes, sweet sil-….What the hell?!’ Someone was banging on my door. Can’t my day go right ONCE?! I pull my self back out of bed to answer it. I open it, and it’s a cop. Just great, what did I do this time?

“Are you Mrs.Reed?”
“Yeah, why?”
“The person who hit and ran you, had no insurance. What he did give you was fraudulent. I apologize for the interruption. Just hoping I could save you some time.”
“Thank you.”
“Have a nice day.”
“You too.”

….OH MY GOD! Really?! I have pay for this out of pocket because some douche bag paid more for alcohol than he did his bills? Screw this and the world, I’m going to bed. I locked my doors and went to bed. I pulled the covers over my head and closed my eyes. I don’t care of God comes knocking on my door, I’m not answering it. Screw you world, kiss my non existent white ass.