Underground Hatred - My Hero Origins (MHO)

10: Paid Leave

Word Count: 2525

(Kat)

 Kat raised a hand to the wooden door, sucking a deep breath into her bruised lungs. Her amber eyes locked on the barrier: the x-ray vision imagined a man sitting at a desk, typing away at a computer with a straight expression. The serious polo and dead silence resonated inside Kat, her heart thrumming in her throat. It practically shook her brain, blood coursing behind her ears as if a river rushed with mighty rapids back there.

What are you waiting for? Just fucking knock, Kat, Kat strictly ordered herself in her mind. She focused in on her fist that hovered over the door, watching the slight shake. Another breath sucked into her lungs before her hands landed against the door with a few raps.

"Come in," a gruff voice sounded from behind the door to Kat.

Kat's hand landed on the metal handle to the door, unlatched it, and pushed the somehow quite heavy door inwards. Kat's lungs halted in their breaths as she entered the new room.

Taking a few steps into the place, the heavy door slowly closed behind Kat. She was faced with a small office that smelled of chicken that had been microwaved for a meal. A man sat at a desk in front of the door, striking dark eyes peering at her through metal-rimmed glasses. A straight face sat on his dark complexion, not giving away if he was in the middle of something important, but also not indicating that he needed to be alone for a project. Kat shrunk into herself, afraid to know the answer.

"Hello, Mr. Jameson," Kat slightly stuttered, her hands tightly gripping the strap to her purse. "I—I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Mr. Jameson leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. His head cocked to the side. "You're Kat, correct?"

"Yes, that's me."

"Michelle talks a lot about you," the man pointed out, his tone slightly lifting—just enough for Kat to catch. She was suddenly grateful she was getting better at reading Davis's emotions. "A lot of good things."

"O—Oh, she does?" Kat asked timidly, but slightly intrigued at the notion.

"Yes, she says you're an excellent worker and have grown to handle customers with politeness and ease," Mr. Jameson continued. "I might have met you when you first applied, but other than that, I don't believe we've talked much. Please, sit."

Kat was taken aback by the offer, her amber eyes widening a tad. Her mouth hung open for a moment, looking for words to reply. "O—Of course."

A chair sat in front of the man's desk, as if it were to interrogate someone. Memories flooded into Kat's mind as she remembered how only a couple of years ago she sat there, looking for a job to save up her money. She slipped into the chair that held a metal rim and leather cushions, leaning back slightly to appear not as stiff as she felt. From there, the room held a broader appearance than it originally did: a plant in the corner, sitting right beside a window that was half exposed by the blinds being pulled upwards. The lights were brighter, the room more lively—but the damn chicken remained to infiltrate her senses.

Mr. Jameson leaned away from the back of his chair, more relaxed than before. One hand picked up a small, sealed container beside his computer, the other closing the laptop. The hand with the container reached downward behind the desk, placing it in a secret location. The man's attention came back to Kat after clearing everything away.

"If you're here, you obviously have something to bring to the table," Mr. Jameson started, motioning with his hand as if he were presenting Kat in a small gesture. "Please, share: questions, comments, concerns, anything."