Bad Blood (6Questions)

Track 6

<I didn't know who to shoot my dirty look first. It was just a bad situation. Bad. I, well, I felt agitated, so close to Damian, it was subconscious and stronger than my alerted brain. While he was touching me, I couldn't think straight - I hated it, but I couldn't very well help myself. He seemed to know it and was everything but ashamed to use it in his favor, sneering in my face.

"Turn around," Mayor challenged, putting his half-empty glass on the table but keeping it carefully within a reach.

I shivered. "No."

Damian's push shook with me but I withstood it.

"What are you responding to?" Mark lit himself a cigarette and leaned back against the back of his chair. "I heard no question, Miss."

I endured his mocking and raised my eyes to look him straight in his bloody face. "This is a non-smoking bulding, sir. Also, this is sexual harassment," I turned my head back to Damian, trying rather feebly to free my hands, "being you, I let go," I hissed in good attempt of a threat.

There was a second of silence before Richard chuckled like a damn idiot. "You brought a lawyer on yourself, Dam."

He nodded with a calm smirk, and for the first time that day, I saw a little appreciation in his face, or just not taking me as a lesser person for a brief moment. That gave me a glimmer of hope we could continue in a more decent way from now on.

But it died out just as quickly. He let go, yes. He told Richard to leave the measurements - for now. But all of that only meaning Dam took over the interview - which brought zero factual improvement for me. Quite the contrary, I had to face the man who had a terrible influence on me.

Regardless of what he asked, I now had to hold myself not to answer obediently. And sadly, neither could I just turn around and slam the door behind me. His piercing eyes were pinning me in my place. I guess you'll say I chose to stay. I chose not to leave, because at the moment it required strength and courage I didn't have. The bravest thing I could do was pleading the fifth every time an inappropriate question came up. And it would never last long anyway.

A few days earlier he wouldn't ask me his six damn questions. And suddenly, here we were going through them in the most twisted wording.

(...)
"She's talking back to you, Damian," from the back, someone snuffed out our endless haggling that was taking us nowhere - neither getting me hired, neither fired, sadly.

I turned around to meet a gaze of a guy, the type who feels... undeniably likeable at first sight - soft, kind eyes, jovial smile on his lips...>

<Name will do just fine.>

<I closed my eyes, feeling the noose tightening around...>

<Name.>

<Will you just...?

"Oh, Marianne, you remember Christian Drake," Damian filled me in with a happy smile.

I didn't remember him. Maybe... it was possible he went to our grade, but not that I would recognize him if Dam hadn't told me.

Chris squeezed my hand, unlike the other gentlemen over there. Went to fetch himself a glass at a minibar while talking to me over his shoulder. "Why don't you sit down, girl? I know the boys don't quite mind having a better view of ya, but your legs are gonna be killing you."