I hate the Wednesday shift. There's never any work to keep me busy. Very few orders are placed and there's never anything to sort out. I'm forced to just sit on this huge wooden crate in the warehouse and...Well, wait for my manager to give me something to do. Has life gotten this pathetic now? That I actually want to be working instead of relaxing. I hate my job in general. A warehouse worker doesn't really get much excitement out of his career. I stare at the clock; apparently I've been here for 7 hours. Funny, it feels like I've been her all week non-stop, then again with my crappy hours I might as well be.

The worst thing is that I've got to go home to her. The "her" is my girlfriend. I hate her, she moans and complains every single minute of the day and always has a go at me. What's more I think she's cheating on me. She keeps saying she's going round to her friend Jessica's house for a chat. Funny that considering how I asked John, Jessica's husband, and he said she's been on holiday for the past two weeks with her work colleagues. To be honest I'm not all that fussed. I don't even know why I'm with her anymore, about 5 months ago when we got together she seemed really nice and we were happy. Now she's become a bitch.

My shift ends in another hour. I don't think I can bare the torture. I decide to give up on waiting and stealthily escape from the warehouse. I thought I completed such a task pretty well, no one seemed to see me and I was fairly quick. I would later be proven wrong in such assumptions. I jumped in my car and drove out of the car park as fast as my cheap little Toyota car would let me. After that I drove slowly on the way home, as "she" will be there, because I have to live with her as well. I hate work, I hate home, so really the only part of my day I like is the Car ride in between, hence why I drive so slowly. I live in the city centre of Delchester. Delchester is a city full of flats and tall buildings, a massive shopping centre with little shops and cafes dotted here and there. I know it's not all that spectacular but I like to take in the "scenery" if it even qualifies as that. It may not be much, but its home.

Eventually I reach my apartment building. My flat is on the 7th floor. I walk through the front entrance of the building and take the stairs. It kills just a little bit more time than the elevator would and like Tesco says: Every little bit helps. After slowly treading up 7 flights of stairs I reach my floor and head to my flat; number 26. I put the key in the door and slowly turn it, then once I've put the key away I turn the ice-cold door handle and slowly open the door. I was hoping I could avoid alerting her attention as I entered; the later I have to interact with her the better, but the doors excessive creaking gave me away.

"Jake! Is that you?" She bellowed.

Unfortunately, it was...