It was 9pm on a Thursday, Emilia was in a car on her way to another late-night show interview.

Blood spatter on the counter, a pen knife on the floor, sirens in the distance.

This marked the 5th one she had done in the past month. Tomorrow, she had a morning show and Saturday she had a meeting with a publisher on a book opportunity.

The person behind in her line was dead, the contents of their head now spilt along a neat line in front of her. She vomited in her mouth and swallowed it out of fear for her life.

Since the event Emilia had more money than she knew what to do with. She had quit her job, hired a publicist and financial manager. Life on paper was going very well for Emilia.

Emilia's phone rang. Their immediately came a bark to throw the phone towards the man with the gun. She complied.

Emilia's phone rang, it was her publicist. Calling about a UK morning talk show on Monday. They had already booked her a Sunday night red eye, first class. The opportunity paid well it was $10k booking fee, room-and-board at a 5-star hotel in the middle of downtown London.

The phone call was likely a debt collector, Emilia had come to the bank to cash out the remainder of her savings account to pay rent this month. Emilia had pissed herself in the commotion of everything. The gun shots, the blood, the bits of human skull that littered that dusted her shirt.

The green room had about a dozen deviled eggs for Emilia, a condition in her rider. She liked deviled eggs, her grandma always used to make the best deviled eggs for holidays and family gatherings.

The gunman had bent over to check the pockets of the corpse now in front of Emilia. A pen knife had fallen out of the man's pocket.

She picked up the knife, on the counter and gave the egg a quick poke and right into her mouth.