1
Breakfast
The Operator
“I can’t do this, Em!”
Carol was hiding in the small guest bathroom at the bottom of the stairs.
“You can,” Emily’s voice was calm on the other end of the line.
“No! I’ve changed my mind.” She tightened her grip on her phone as it nearly slipped from her shaking hands.
“Remember how you got here, Carol,” Emily said in her ear, “remember what he did to you.”
“It wasn’t his fault—”
“It was.”
“I should have been more caref—”
“Carol. It was his fault,” Emily interrupted. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” There was a pause. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes…” Carol responded. “I know.” She did know. Of course she did. She wasn’t sure why she was having second thoughts about everything now.
“It’s ok. It’s normal to be afraid,” Emily assured her, “but you won’t have to be afraid much longer. You got the package I sent?”
“Yes.”
“And you followed the instructions exactly?”
“I—I think so.”
“Then there’s nothing left,” Emily said.
She knew Emily was right. They had weeks to plan, and now the moment was here, staring her in the face. This was it. A chill ran down her spine and into her fingertips.
“Will you stay with me?” She whispered, and Emily responded without hesitation.
“Of course.”
Carol held the door handle for a long moment, taking a deep breath to steel her nerves before exiting the bathroom. She made her way back into the kitchen, where her husband was sitting at the breakfast table, setting her phone facedown on the kitchen island as she walked over to join him.
“Who was that?” He asked, looking up from his newspaper with a raised eyebrow as she sat down. His voice held a curious warning. His eyes held nothing.
“Just my sister,” she responded. She looked down at her eggs to avoid his searching gaze.
“What does Emily want now, more money?” He asked with annoyance. “She needs to stop this childish protest. Better to choose a husband than to be assigned one by the state,” he stated matter-of-factly as he continued to read the morning paper.
“Yeah.” She found that statement ironic.
The man in front of her was cruel. He relished in the freedom he had to do whatever he wished with her, provided she was still able to produce a child in the end. She suspected she would have been better off had she let the state choose her husband for her. Instead she had chosen him, more out of a fear of the unknown than anything. Now here she was, his personal punching bag. His cook and his maid. His therapist and his sex doll. She played many roles for his needs and amusement, in addition to her role as an incubator. It wouldn’t be long now before she would be forced to carry a child for him, such were the laws that every married couple must abide.
She watched as her contemptible husband finished off his coffee while he read the latest news. The paper was quivering in his hands. He cleared his throat, giving the paper a purposeful jerk to try to dispel the shaking. He knew. She was sure he knew. Her heart was beating such a powerful rhythm in her chest that she was sure he would be able to hear it from where he sat on the other side of the table.
He glanced at the watch on his wrist, the corner of the paper falling to reveal his face as he turned his arm. Carol clenched her jaw shut to stop the gasp that wanted to escape her at the sight of him. His normally pale skin was splotched an angry pink, as if he had been in the sun for too long on a hot day. He cleared his throat again.
“Ok, I’m off,” he said, tossing down the paper as he stood from his seat. He moved from the kitchen, grabbing his wallet and keys from the skinny table in the front hall. She watched in silence as he went about his normal morning routine, the shaking in his hands growing worse as he struggled with putting his wallet into his pocket. Once was safely tucked inside of his suit jacket, he glared down at his hand. “Make sure to finish your chores before I get home. I would hate to have to…” He clenched and unclenched his hand, but the shaking wouldn’t leave. “…punish you.”
Her body ached where his words impressed upon her the memory of the last punishment he had given her. The sense of resolve the memory brought her did nothing to ease the fear that glued her to her seat. He turned his head toward her when she offered no response.
“What’s wrong with you?” His eyes were bloodshot as he looked at her. “Did you hear what I just s—”
His words stopped suddenly, his eyes wide as the pace of his breath increased. His shoulders heaved as his chest rose and fell with jerky movements. It was as if he had forgotten how to breathe. He looked to Carol in confusion—and then a dawning realization—before he doubled over with his arms wrapped around his middle, moaning like some wretched wounded animal.
His shoes dragged along on the floor as he stumbled towards her with an angry look on his face, a rattling sound filling the air with each breath he took. Carol shot up from her seat and raced to grab her phone from the countertop. His fingers closed around her wrist before she could raise it to her ear. She screamed, the sound of it bouncing off of the walls, pain shooting through her wrist as she tried to pull out of his grip.
“What did you—” His pinched voice was cut off as a strangled gurgle erupted from his throat. His fingers loosened over her bruised skin, and she screamed again as he crashed to the floor.
“Are you still there?” She shouted as she put the phone to her ear.
“I’m here, Carol.” Emily replied.
“He’s alive! He’s still alive!”
Her husband was convulsing on their white kitchen tile, a red-swirled yellow was forming at the corners of his lips. Wet choking sounds gargled up through the foam that was filling his open mouth.
“It’s ok.” Emily’s voice was quiet and even in her ear. “It’s almost over.”
As soon as she had said it, the man’s convulsions slowed to twitches, and then to an unnatural stillness as his chest collapsed, his final breath leaving him in one pathetic huff. Carol stared at him with wide eyes as she tried to slow her heavy breathing. Her grip on her emotions floundered as she rotated between relief that he was gone, and horror at what she had just done.
“Carol? Are you there?”
Emily’s voice made her jump.
“I—Yes. I’m here.”
“Ok. I know this is a shock for you, but you did well,” Emily assured her in the same calm tone, and Carol wondered how the other woman could still think straight. “Do you remember what to do next?”
“I…” She searched her mind for the right answer. “My bag?”
“Exactly,” Emily said. “Go grab it.”
Carol spared one last glance for the man on the floor before leaving the kitchen and rushing up the stairs.
“My team will be there soon to get you. I’m so proud of you, Carol.”
“Wait, Emily!” Carol said before the other woman could disconnect the call. She knew to ask was pointless, but she said the words anyway. “What’s your real name?”
The woman on the other end of the line smiled to herself. “Is there anything else I can assist you with?” She asked in a friendly and formal tone.
“No, I guess not,” Carol’s voice responded in the woman’s headset after a moment of silence. “Thank you.”
The woman reached up and pressed a button on the side of her headset, and the call was disconnected. She typed up a quick note into the file she had open on her laptop.
::Carol Atticus: Step one: Complete. Request extraction.::
She forwarded the file to the next department as a light on her screen started flashing, indicating a new incoming call. Pressing the button on her headset, a click sounded in her ear as the line was opened again.
“Thank you for calling The Iris Collective,” she said. “What is the name of your closest living confidant?”
“What?” A confused and panicked voice responded on the other end of the line.
“What is the name of your closest living confidant?” The woman repeated.
“Um, Sophie.”
“Ok. From this point forward you will only refer to me as Sophie when we talk. Do you understand?”
This story started as a short in January of 2023, and at the urging of friends was quickly developed into a full novel. The story is finished, several drafts, and well into the final edit. I will be uploading 1-2 chapters per week, and will make a few alternate posts in between to fill the waiting periods. Feel free to comment your thoughts or ask any questions you’d like as you read, and please share this story so that others may read it as well. Thank you for your support! <3
Excellent. Thank you.
Great fun. Moves at an express pace from the very beginning ("in media res" indeed!), the world-building is efficient, the description of the husband's deterioration is evocative and horrifying, and it leaves the reader nicely primed to want to understand more about this world, this character, and what's going to happen next. Very good.