ALEXANDER
I take the stairs, all sixteen f*****g floors of them three at a time with my lungs on fire.
I barge past some catering staff halfway down and don’t even apologise. I can’t speak. I don’t want to f*****g speak.
I don’t even want to be alive.
The world spins as I pace through the lobby. My lungs scream for air as I barge through the main entrance doors.
My lungs scream to be out of this f*****g place.
I stumble onto the street and straight into Mr Rand on his way in.
He holds out a hand and I stare mute, as though I’m a f*****g lunatic.
Because I am. I am a f*****g lunatic.
“Are you alright, Henley?” Rand asks, and I brace myself on his shoulder, using him as leverage to walk on by. I stumble down the street with the wind whipping my tie, and the rain feels like acid agai
