𝘚𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳 | 𝘚𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

1. Something Called Desperation

You sit on the curb a block from your old job, your bag resting in your lap. This is absolutely ridiculous. Why did that other company have to buy the café out now? And at a time when I need money most!... You sigh as tears prick your eyes. "I'm never going to find a job now..."

Until you see it.

A person running a paper stand. The newspaper! It must have something containing jobs. Quickly, you rush over to see.

"Hello, Miss," the boy selling the papers says enthusiastically. You smile, trying to hide your sadness from recently becoming unemployed. "How much for a paper?" you ask, already pulling out your wallet. He beams, showing that not many have bought his paper yet.

"$2.50!" he says, holding out the newspaper. You nod, taking out the amount and handing it to him. He bows his head slightly. "Thank you." You wave goodbye and depart for your house, which is nearby. 

When you see your house, you feel eager to tear the paper open to begin searching. But you hold yourself together until you get there. When you do, you burst through the door, plopping onto the couch and scanning through it.

Jobs... Jobs... You keep searching, hopelessness swelling up inside you. Jobs... Jobs–JOBS!

"Aha!" you exclaim proudly, seeing a small list on the corner of the paper specifically for jobs. But as you scroll through you only see jobs that you aren't qualified to do. You feel as if all luck is lost... until you spot one of the last jobs on the list, a caretaker. Specifically, one at an asylum called, Westwood Asylum. You shudder at the name. You've always heard bad things about that place: that it treats its patients terribly, that many of the workers lives result in death, there's little to no rules whatsoever for the workers (meaning that they have no responsibility and do whatever they please), but what's the worst of it... is that it holds the most deadly, insane killers. You wonder how that place is even permitted to even be a facility, considering its terrible rules.

You go to throw the paper away in defeat but feel curiosity clawing at you crazily. Eventually you end up giving in to the desire you feel, and sit back down on the couch, typing the number to the place into your phone. When you do, you hold the phone to your ear. Almost instantly after, the person on the other end accepts it. Wow, they're fast.

"Hello, this is the Westwood Asylum," the person tiredly says. You pause, not knowing how to say what you want to say, but you have to continue.

"Hello," you force out. "I saw that you need a caretaker for your asylum?" You hear a gasp from the other person before a muffled, "MR. THOMPSON! Someone wants the job!" You giggle from the other end of the line. When you hear the person clear their voice from the other end clearly, you continue.

"So, is there anything that I need to do to prepare? And is there anything that I will need to be specialized in to do there?" The person laughs, thinking that you're joking. When they figure out that you're serious, they quickly apologize.

"Here at the asylum, we're in desperate need of more staff. I don't think it matters much, but are there any skills that you think might help you here?"

"Well, I know the basics of nursing people, and I consider myself to be a communicative person. I also exceed at–"
"You're hired," the person says bluntly. Your eyes widen. "I'm... hired?"
"Yes. What's your name and age?"
"Y/n L/n. And I'm 19." You hear the person mutter something to themself before writing down some things.
"Do you live by yourself, and do you have a car that you can take? If you have a car, what's your license plate number?"
"Yes, I have both of those things, and my license plate number is ******," you answer, unsure of what this is leading up to.
"Okay." You hear some more scribbling on the other end, before the person clearing their throat to speak again.