Let's all pretend that this actually happened to me, and that I have a high school job as a secretary for the C.I.A. (even though it didn't really happen to me, and I don't--and wouldn't want to--have such a job).
|Brought to you by Creative Writing Prompts ^-^|
It had been far too long of a day.(Not one of my better short stories, I will tell you that.)
I leaned back against my chair and sighed, rubbing my hands over my eyes. Oh, thank God. I was finished. That report I had to sort through, the one filled with absolutely ridiculous intel on whatever was happening over in Greece, was finished. It was still on the desk in front of me, hot pink and scented, and I couldn't help but make a face at it and pinch the bridge of my nose. This report gave me so much grief, Connor had no idea. And if he asked me to sort through something else--
I exhaled slowly and glanced at the clock. 5:00, it said, and something exploded within me. Happiness and relief, morphed into one giant rush of emotion. No, Connor couldn't make me sort through anything else because it was time for me to go. It was bad enough that I had to work on a Saturday, and even worse when he told me I would be sorting through papers. The RP ones too, he had said. The Rubbish Papers. But my hours were up, and I was free to leave, free to return home and hopefully take a hot shower and stuff my face with clam chowder.
And what, exactly, had been the point of it anyway? If they were all really RPs--and even I was pretty sure that they were--why not just throw all of them through a shredder? It would've made anyone's life easier.
I could almost hear Connor's voice in my head. You don't know anything until you have double checked. Which was why we needed you.
Right, I thought. Then double check them yourself.
I stood up and grabbed my book bag, swinging it over one shoulder and striding over to the door as fast as I could. There were several things on my mind at that time: Car. Home. Shower. Food. Basic things for an average person, really, but not for someone who had a desk job for the C.I.A.
Shaking my head, I hitched the bag tighter against me and reached for the door.
And then I went blind.
The door had disappeared, the wall in front of me gone. In fact all around me, it was pitch black, the color of the darkest set of coal and charcoal, and I stood there for a moment frozen in shock. It wasn't until a few seconds later did I finally realize that the lights had just turned off; Connor had probably forgotten to tell someone to change the bulbs. It had to be it.
I sighed, exasperated, and reached out in front of me, my fingers digging around for the handle. But what they landed on was definitely not a handle. They touched flesh.
Immediately I pulled back, my feet backpedaling until I ran viciously into the edge of my desk.
What the hell?
Someone chuckled. "What's the hurry, girl?"
I froze. The voice did not belong to Connor. It didn't belong to anyone I knew.
"Who's there?" And how did you even get in?
The floorboard creaked and the unmistakable sound of footsteps grew louder and louder as the owner of the voice made its way to me. "Pity it's so dark, isn't it?"
Again, I couldn't recognize the man. I swallowed. It had to be a joke. A test of some sort. I worked for the C.I.A.; this was a simulation to test me in case something did happen, something that required even a girl with a desk job to act.
So I did the only thing I knew how to do in times of action. I exhaled slowly once again and tried to make light of the situation.
"Uh," I said. "Who are you?"
The hidden man--how annoying--laughed out loud once again. "I can't tell you that."
Of course not. I went through the rest of the tactics, the seconds that ticked by eating away at my confidence. "Where did you come from?"
I heard him walk towards me and I instinctively shifted to my right, putting myself hopefully farther away from him.
"I heard Greece is lovely this time of the year."
My body turned ice cold.
Greece? Greece? As in the pink paper, the RP, the Rubbish I'd wanted to shred only minutes ago.
For a brief second, almost as if there were a strobe light in the room, the lights flashed on, illuminating the man's face--a horrible, scarred face with a lopsided smile--before turning off again just as quickly. I had no idea if it had been intentional, the electricity suddenly flaring up again, but I wasn't going to stay to find out. I darted forward, concentrating on a mental picture of the room, praying that whatever was in front of me would be the door. But instead of running into the door, I ran into a pair of arms that wrapped around my shoulders, dragging me roughly to the side.
"Oh, for God's sake," the man muttered, and a hand worked itself to my mouth, muffling the scream at once. "You're an exasperating person, you know that? Makes my job just that much harder."
I shook my head and began swinging my elbows around, searching blindly for something to jab. Somehow I managed to make him let go of me but his free hand only moved up to my neck, fingers wrapping around it and squeezing tightly, cutting off my ideas of screaming again.
"Stop fighting, girl," he said, his voice unbearably close to my ear. "Or something will happen to you."
Something was already happening to me, part of me wanted point out, but I couldn't even move my lips. Stars danced in front of my eyes and a dull pressure erupted in my head, dark and throbbing, as if someone were shoving a hammer into my skull. I couldn't breathe. I needed to breathe.
I wrenched my mouth open and sunk my teeth into his hand.
He swore loudly and released me, and I stumbled blindly forward, my shoulder hitting something hard. With fire scalding through my arm, I slid my hand down the wooden object, closing around a cool, brass handle and turned it as fast as I could.
The door swung open with a burst of light, taking me with it. But instead of hitting the ground, I landed on something softer, something unmistakably familiar.
"Great," someone said. "Not exactly what I had in mind, but you know, it's all good."
My eyes flashed open and I jumped to my feet, wrenching myself away from--arms. Arms that belonged to him.
Humiliation washed over me, and for a split second I almost forgot about the man in the other room.
"Connor," I said. "Oh."
Connor scratched the back of his head, and I randomly wondered where his father was, why he had come up here alone. This was a classified hallway. He didn't work here--he just monitored the area. And he was young, too young to be trusted with such information unless he had an actual desk job, which he didn't.
He turned around calmly, facing a different figure in the hallway. "Caleb. Get that man out of the room. Unless you want me to do it?"
He sounded much too hopeful, but the man--Caleb--snorted and strode forward, disappearing into the room. Connor glanced at me and grinned.
"I can't say we didn't expect this. Hey, you want to stay here for another hour?"
I should probably get Chapter 3 of ARoN up, since I'm about a week late--if not more. But that probably won't happen. I'm going with a friend to see The Vow today, and then there's homework...and more WAP stuff to do for Depravity. Which, you know, totally sounds like an ideal day. (The Vow part does at least, I have to admit.)