Chapter 1: Zeke
I open my eyes to see my paint-dimpled ceiling while my alarm screams at me, letting me know it's a crisp five in the morning. It's time to start my daily routine. Let me assure you—life cannot be lived without a formal routine to keep things in order. That's my number one rule: always follow the routine.
Today is a big day. I get to observe Kasey Trekko again. It's been about three weeks since I started watching her. Her patterns are pretty simple, other than the fact that she's a walking mess and a disgrace to the human race—but little does she know, I will purify her body, mind, and soul.
I spend my allotted five minutes lying in bed, letting my mind race before I start my day with a 30-minute meditation session listening to Miserere by Carlo Gesualdo. Did you know Carlo Gesualdo caught his wife with another man in bed and absolutely mutilated them right where they lay? He left them slain in the bedroom and then returned hours later to ensure they were dead. I could never act in such a vigorous, sloppy way. Passion fueled his crime, but not mine. The composer didn't face repercussions because of his noble status. He even remarried later in life and continued to let his trauma fuel his music.
How beautiful the past can be.
As I've spent my five minutes dreaming about my favorite Italian composer, it's time to get up. I crawl out of bed, slip on my moccasins, and tie my robe tightly across my abdomen. Over on my dresser, I have a small Bluetooth stereo. I connect my phone, select my meditation playlist, and Gesualdo plays across the room as I sit on the floor—legs crossed, shoulders relaxed, and mind clear.
Time flies. My 30-minute alarm goes off before I know it. Time to make breakfast. I meal-prepped this weekend, so all I need to do is grab a homemade bacon, egg, and cheese bagel from the freezer and toss it in the microwave for approximately 1 minute and 30 seconds. It will be perfect.
Next in the routine: lay out clothes for my shower. After that, I carefully pick out my cologne. Today, Versace is on the menu. Once these steps are completed, I shower and head to my 9–5 job.
I'm an apprentice psychologist. I work at a local medical office here in Kansas City. After my shift, I come home and change into my evening attire. Then it's time to sulk around and watch Kasey. This Saturday will be the day I cleanse her. She doesn't know it yet—but I do.
Don't worry, Kasey. I'll save you from yourself... and everyone else from you.
I check the clock. I'm right on time to grab my breakfast, water bottle, and keys before heading out to beat Kansas City traffic.
Traffic is always treacherous in the city—by far my least favorite part of city living. My commute usually takes 45 minutes to an hour, though on a good day I can make it in 30. I'm not looking forward to dealing with my clients; they're all such emotional humans. I have no desire to feel emotions of any sort. Even though I'm not emotional myself, I understand emotions—how they work and why people need help handling them.
Let's face it: emotions are a rollercoaster of extreme ups and downs.
Believe it or not, I absolutely love my job. Helping people makes me feel normal—though I am far from normal and harbor dark, demented secrets.
Enough of this mental chatter. I'm almost at work and ready to begin the day... so that it can come to a gratifying end.
