By Monday morning I have accumulated a maximum of fourteen hours of sleep over the previous six nights, which even by my standards is not exactly ideal. I have spent most of the week sitting at my desk watching the darkness come and go outside, and I’m pretty sure that whatever work I’m producing is completely substandard, though no one seems to care. As long as I’m putting the hours in, I’m considered a valued member of the team. I also want to kill myself for allowing expressions like ‘valued member of the team’ to enter my thoughts. Have they actually succeeded in brainwashing me? Everything that I put in my mouth for sustenance tastes metallic and dry thanks to the Zopiclone I’ve been overdosing on with little effect, a side effect that I used to enjoy when it occasionally occurred before I had to take pills every single night, but right now I’m becoming sick of it. Moreover, I have not seen Sadie for seven whole days.