DELIRIUM [s.g.r.]

: PROLOGUE :

—

—

TODAY WAS THE DAY. THE DAY BEATRICE HAS BEEN ANTICIPATING FOR WHAT FEELS THE ENTIRETY OF HER YOUNG ADULT LIFE. She was finally walking inside the Federal Bureau Headquarters.

Triumph & exhilaration traveled all passing the doors, and striding through security. Almost as if she had done it million times before. The formal metallic walls and black marble flooring instantly welcome her. Her heels clicking satisfyingly with every step.

Click, clack, click, clack.

Eyeing the lobby desk from a far, her confident stride dwindles ever so slightly. She halts, anxiously glancing down at her smartphone settled in her palm. 'Was this the right way?' Surely, she could just ask. 'No, no.' She's not going to do that. 'You'll look like a idiot." Because she's far too proud. 'I will figure it out, myself.'

Someone's shoulder suddenly brushes past her own, mumbling out quick apology. Her hazel eyes glance away from her device, watching a older gentlemen rush straight toward the direction of lobby desk. Her eyes remain focused, making sure to pay close attention. He zaps his work identification card; the backside. This causes the doors to open, allowing his way through. Never once utter a word to the scary reception lady.

"Easy enough.'

'Just... Don't look like an idiot.' Quickly she straightens out her posture, and tucking her phone into her pocket again.

Click, clack, click, clack.

Now—Zap.
'Oh, thank god...'

Click, clack, click, clack.

Although relief washed over, the palms of her hands remained clammy. And her stomach—
'I feel sick.'

Without hesitation, she turns. Taking a sharp left toward the women's restroom—which thankfully was empty. Pushing against the stall doors, she ushers herself inside, locking it. Still standing, she leans against it. "You've got to be shitting me." She whispers out, her fingers instinctively whisking back her bangs.

"No pun intended." A female jokes from the stall beside her own.

Beatrice heart sinks—and let me tell you, it was anything but gradual. For that split second, all her insides were reminded of gravity. After a few moments, her stomach settled into place. But the young woman shifted into the shade scarlet.

Utterly mortified, her eyes tightly shut in embarrassment as the toilet flushes. An awkward silence lingers amongst the restroom walls, as the woman washes her hands in the sink. This only made Beatrice's face uncomfortably rise in temperature.