Suicide Hotline (The One Percent Book 2) Read online

  The razor stung as it cut along the length of her wrist. The pain was much sharper than she’d thought it would be. She cringed and jerked as he sliced her arm from elbow to wrist and dropped her arm into the water. She opened her eyes to see the water turning dark red as the life drained from her body. Looking up, the men filed out of the bathroom as her eyes grew heavy. She thought about Dustin’s final moments screaming, all the failures in her life and how even in death she couldn’t do anything right.

  3.

  Johnny Axelrod

  Los Angeles, California

  Johnny scrubbed everything in sight. He scrubbed behind the toilets, underneath and the floor around them. He continued to shine the chrome plumbing as well as the shiny metal toilet paper dispensers. His knees throbbed from having been on the ground for so long. It took a few hours but once he finished with the last stall he finally got a chance to stretch out.

  Looking around, he wondered why he still tried so hard. He’d been at this job for ten years. Being a janitor at a large law firm had never bothered him. For some, it would. Personally, he enjoyed working and cleaning. He took pride in seeing things sparkle when he was through cleaning them. His favorite part was the looks on people’s faces when they took in the sights and smells he’d helped create. His job had been wonderful most of his time there.

  That is until his new boss had started a couple months ago. Up until then he’d been a model employee. Once Roger took over, Johnny couldn’t do anything right. No matter how much he cleaned or how perfect things were, Roger was there to tell him it looked like shit. Not just “oh you missed a spot.” No, that was way too kind. It was more like “I thought you said you cleaned.”

  The worst was when Johnny would be in the middle of one thing, Roger would tell him to stop and go take care of something else only to come back and yell at him for not finishing the first thing. It was extremely frustrating. Johnny always stayed on top of things and took pride in his work. The latest round of insults from Roger only caused him more anxiety.

  At first it was just annoying, then the write-ups came. He was getting written up for everything. He was written up for being an hour late even though he was at work on time. There was a computer glitch that said he clocked in an hour late, even though he’d been there. Of course, Roger didn’t believe him. He told him one could be terminated for being more than thirty minutes late. That next time he’d just consider it a no call/no show and terminate him completely.

  He’d worked at this place for almost ten years. He liked it there and felt comfortable there. With the way the economy had been, jobs weren’t very plentiful. He was making good money at this one. It was highly doubtful even if he could find another custodial job, it would pay what this one did plus his seniority and benefits. He didn’t even want to think about it. Not until Roger pulled him aside one day.

  They were in a main hallway as attorneys and other employees were coming and going.

  “Johnny!” Roger called out from across the hallway. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m uhh, getting ready to wax the floors like we do every Tuesday.”

  “Wax the floors? You don’t listen to simple instructions very well do you?”

  “What instructions?”

  “I told you the conference room on the second floor needs cleaned first thing today.”

  “You never told me that, Roger.”

  “So you calling me a liar? I’m about sick of your insubordination.”

  Johnny took a deep breath.

  “I didn’t say you’re lying.” Even though you’re a lying asshole. “I’m saying I don’t recall you telling me. At all. I’m sure I’d remember that.”

  “Well, whatever. Go clean it now. Have it done in the next forty-five minutes or your ass is grass. I’ve about had it with you.”

  Johnny turned and headed for the stairs, trying not to look at the large group of people who’d just watched him get his ass chewed. He had just turned forty a few weeks before. Never in his life had he been talked to this way. Not since high school. It was humiliating. He counted steps as he walked up to the second floor, trying to calm himself down.

  He got the conference room cleaned just in time for whatever meeting was about to happen. As he stepped outside, Roger was waiting for him again.

  “You about done screwing around?”

  “I cleaned the conference room like you told me.”

  “Yes. Wonderful. What day is today?”

  “Tuesday. Why?”

  “What gets waxed on Tuesday?”

  “Didn’t we just have this conversation?”

  Roger put his hands on his hips, and let out a sarcastic laugh while shaking his head.

  “There you go again, shooting off at the mouth. Get your fat ass down there, and wax the goddamn floor. I swear. I’m about to put you on final notice if you keep fucking up. Go.”

  Johnny’s stomach tightened as he headed back downstairs. In the stairwell one of the office staff approached him. He didn’t know the guy’s name; he was one of the lawyers. Johnny thought his name was Glenn. Glenn raced by him on the stairs and nudged him.

  “Hey bub! Quite an ass chewing you just got. Guess you shoulda stayed in school huh? Hahaha!” Glenn said as he raced by. Johnny wanted to trip him and watch him tumble face first down the stairs. Fucking asshole. No one there knew anything about Johnny. As a matter of fact, he had a college degree in marketing. Problem was, marketing was a rather popular degree and the field was saturated. So there he was, doing custodial work. Dick.

  He reached the main hall and spent the next several hours laying wax, and then buffing the floor until it was smooth and shiny. Once he put the buffer away in the supply closet, he closed the door and put his hands over his face, counting until he calmed down. He had no idea what to do. Either keep putting up with Roger’s shit, or just quit altogether. Neither option was great. He decided to talk to Human Resources. Maybe they could reassign him or, well, he had no idea. He figured he’d talk to them and see what they said, at least. Maybe they had a suggestion, or hopefully they’d at least make him calm his tits.

  An hour later he was sitting in the Human Resources office talking to Deb, the HR manager. He’d only met her one other time, and she always seemed pleasant enough. She asked him what was bothering him, and he told her everything. He detailed the confusing directions, the insults, verbal abuse, and humiliating him in front of other staff. She listened intently while nodding and taking notes.

  Finally, he finished. He’d been nervous at first, but once he started talking, he began feeling more comfortable. By the time he finished he felt like a huge load had been lifted. He sat there waiting as Deb finished jotting down whatever notes she had. Once she finished, she looked up as Johnny eagerly awaited her input.

  “Wow, Johnny that does sound incredibly frustrating.”

  “Yes. It is. Some days I feel sick just thinking about coming to work. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Well, that’s just the problem. I don’t know what to do either.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You see, Roger is Mr. Curtis’ nephew. You know, THE Mr. Curtis? Who founded and owns this firm? He told me about Roger when they hired him. He apparently had a rough time in college and has some difficulty holding a job. So, being family, Mr. Curtis put him in charge of sanitation here. He’s done fairly well. So far you are the only one to complain.”

  Johnny sat there feeling like he’d just been punched in the stomach.

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying there isn’t a whole lot I can do. I can talk to Roger and maybe even talk to Mr. Curtis. But chances are they will see you as the one who is the problem.”

  “Are you kidding me? So he’s allowed to act like a raving psychopath because his uncle owns the company?”

  “I’m afraid so. You may have legal recourse, but that would require you hiring your own lawyer, legal fees and so forth. So you have to decide wh
at you want to do.”

  Johnny stood up, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “So what if he were to sexually harass someone? What if a girl comes in here and says he groped her?”

  “Do you know of him doing this?”

  “No. Just asking.”

  “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Is there anything else?”

  Johnny shook his head and walked out of the office. He headed to the bathroom and locked himself inside of a stall. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or throw up. The whole thing was so frustrating. It was just a matter of time before Roger fired him. Either that or Roger just got off on tormenting him. That was most likely the case.

  The guy was a fucking sadist. For some reason it was mostly directed at Johnny. He never saw anyone else get fucked with. After taking a moment to catch his breath he stepped out of the stall, and stood before the mirror to throw some water on his face. Another employee came in behind him. This was another attorney. This guy’s name was Chuck. He was short but had thick, greased back hair and a goatee.

  “What’s up, man?” Chuck said. “Don’t you have some toilets to clean or something?”

  “Taking a break.”

  “Shit. Must be nice. Wish I got a break. Try getting a real job.” Chuck walked to one of the urinals and stopped. “See? Look at this shit. There’s a big ol’ fucking pube right on the pisser. Get over here and clean this shit off!”

  “I said I was on break.”

  “Ok. Maybe I’ll go talk to Roger. Tell him his fucking tidy bowl man won’t do his fucking job. How will that go over?”

  Johnny rolled his eyes and dug into his pocket, taking out a cleaning rag from his coveralls and wiped the urinal down and waved his hands as he was presenting it to Chuck.

  “There? Better?”

  “Much,” Chuck said as he unzipped his pants and pissed all over the edge of the urinal and caught Johnny with some of the stream.

  “What the fuck?” Johnny yelled.

  “Oh hey. Sorry, man. Bad aim. Haha!”

  Johnny stormed out of the bathroom and headed for the front door. On his way out he saw Roger. He was trying to just walk the fuck out of the place and never come back but that wasn’t going to be so easy.

  “Well, well. If it isn’t the little bird,” Roger said, stopping him.

  “Little bird? What?”

  “Just talked to Deb in HR. Seems like you had a lot to say. You feel better?”

  “No.”

  “Good. You thought I was mean before, huh? You need some tissue? Maybe a diaper change?”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I want you to do your fucking job and show me some goddamn respect. Apparently you can’t handle that. That’s why you’re forty years old and working as a fucking janitor. Just seeing you sulk around here makes me sick. You’re pathetic. And yeah, nothing you can do about it. Go cry to HR, go cry to Mr. Curtis. None of them will do shit. So you can either quit, or deal with me. Now where was it you thought you were going just now?”

  Johnny hung his head. He was truly at a loss for what to do.

  “Nothing. I don’t know.”

  “Get your ass back to work. Better not think of tattling again. I want the bathrooms on each floor spotless by the end of the fucking day. I want to be able to eat off the fucking toilet seat. You got it?”

  “Yeah. I got it,” Johnny said as he turned and walked away.

  He spent the rest of the day scrubbing each and every bathroom. There were a total of eight of them. When he was finished, all of them were pristine. He waited for Roger to throw a fit about how bad they sucked but he later found out Roger had left work shortly after yelling at him. Finally, Johnny headed home.

  He was so furious when he got home, he could hardly contain himself. All he wanted to do was smash something. His blood pressure was through the roof as he tried to keep himself calm. Last time he got so angry he threw his own laptop against the wall. That was a totally pointless act. Why break his own shit?

  Instead he logged into the dark web. There he would sometimes look up videos of real life executions. Usually performed by gangs or cartels. There were often beheadings or shootings. Once in a while he’d find something more creative. There were some interesting comments on one of the videos. The video showed security footage of a school shooting in Indiana months before. The film was grainy. Apparently some lone dorky guy walked into a middle school and began blowing away kids and teachers.

  Some conspiracy theorists thought there was something more sinister behind it. In the video footage you couldn’t see much. You see the shooter walking around with a gun looking lost. Later you see him going into a room. There were some hints of muzzle flashes in the background. Much of the footage was grainy and hard to read. This struck Johnny as odd. Here it was 2016, but the school security footage looked like some shot on a Radio Shack camcorder from the 70’s.

  He did see one thing in the background. Right before one part cut out, it looked like a man wearing a ski mask or some kind of black mask behind the shooter. Johnny tried to slow it down but it was little more than a blur then it cut to another scene. One of the guys in the comments was going off.

  Brubaker3222: I’m telling you guys. It’s the Suicide Hotline. They do all this shit. They do not fuck around!

  HeresJohnny91: What is the Suicide Hotline?

  Brubaker3222: I think it may be the government. They set this shit up to make it look like some loser did it. But no way, man. You saw that video. That dude looked like he could barely hold that rifle. No way he shot all those people up like that. That fucker had help.

  HeresJohnny91: So what? This guy hired them or something?

  Brubaker3222: I don’t know how it works. I been to their site but too chicken to fill out the form. But if you want to kill a bunch of people. These guys will do it. They’re fucking ghost man. No shit.

  Johnny clicked on the link the man had posted and it took him to the simple online form. He stared at the form for several minutes and was about to click out of it when a chat box appeared.

  Hello Johnny. No need to fill out the form. We’ve been watching you for a while. I think we can help you. We will be in touch.

  The chat box disappeared as Johnny pushed the computer away from himself.

  “What in the fuck was that?” he wondered, looking around. He got up and looked around the house. He checked his light fixtures and under furniture for cameras or listening devices, but didn’t find anything. Not that he’d know what he was actually looking for. For all he knew it was someone from one of the other chats fucking with him. But how would they know his name? Well, his screen name was HeresJohnny… probably not his best idea. He closed his laptop and jumped in the shower. It was time for some whiskey to numb the rest of the day away.

  The next week at work was just as nightmarish as the previous few weeks. Roger continued with the full court press, humiliating and berating Johnny at every turn. Of course, seeing him tormented so openly only told the other employees that it was open season to mock and taunt him at every turn. You’d think a group of professional lawyers and paralegals would be above such behavior, but that wasn’t so. He felt like he’d been thrust back into seventh grade when he first hit his growth spurt, but grew wide instead of tall. Since then he’d always struggled with his weight.

  His work coveralls were even less flattering to his shape. Roger and the rest of his co-workers enjoyed reminding him each day what a fat slob he was. He tried to block it all out but some days it felt like more than he could take. One day he was leaving, but when he got into his car; a man in a suit was sitting in the passenger seat.

  “Who the fuck are you?” he asked.

  “It’s all right Johnny. Please get in. I just want to chat with you for a bit.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Mr. Black. I’m with the Hotline.”

  Johnny looked around before climbing into the car and closing the door.
>
  “Suicide Hotline, huh?”

  “Yes sir. At your service.”

  “Ok. So I’m really not suicidal. Homicidal maybe. I guess I could be suicidal. I’m really fucking stuck. I can’t afford to quit this job, but I can’t handle going there every day.”

  “We know, Johnny. We’ve been watching.”

  “You said that. How?”

  “We’re not just a website. We’re a movement.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “How would you like to exact revenge on Roger? And his uncle? And the rest of the assholes who have put you through hell day after day.”

  “Shit. I’d fucking love that. Don’t know if I want to kill myself though. So what is the deal with you guys?”

  “It’s a bit complicated, so allow me to explain.” Mr. Black went on to tell him what exactly the Hotline was, what they did and why. Or at least as much as he was allowed to say. Johnny took it all in. Most of it seemed pretty out there, but this Mr. Black fellow was dead serious the entire conversation.

  “Look. We do this all the time. They aren’t even always mass shootings. Sometimes it’s just a mother drowning her children before taking her own life. Sometimes a simple murder-suicide. You know, two lovers killing themselves, or each other. We firmly believe a person has the right to choose when they die. We just help with the means, and in some cases you become famous from having worked with us.”

  Johnny considered this for a few minutes.

  “What if I just want to kill a few assholes?”

  “Unfortunately we can’t promise specific targets. You would go in with our operators. As far as anyone is concerned, you’d be the one who did all the killings. You’d go down in history as one of the most notorious mass shooters in history. How many people work in your building?”