Big Corp Inc. (G/T)

Part 41: Conscience

Ronny overheard the entire exchange between Mr. Hardon and Martin with unease. He knew the boss was lying, obviously, but Martin was too blind to see the truth. He was surprised that Martin would question his strong bond with his girl, rather than the duplicity of the untrustworthy Giant feeding him lies. He hadn't realized that Martin was so insecure. Candy clearly worshipped the ground he walked on; why couldn't he see that? Ronny was baffled by this development.

He watched Martin trudge away in shock and despair, and he couldn't help but feel a burst of anger at his incompetence and idiocy. Maybe, once the shock wore off, Martin would begin to question what he was told more critically and come to distrust the boss's insidious lies. Ronny tried to wipe the scene from his mind and get back to work, which distracted him for a while, until Mr. Hardon made a move to close his office door again. Ronny's ears picked up the faint, but still distinctive sound of Candy's screams. So, as he knew all along, she was still trapped in his office. She sounded furious—and no wonder, considering she probably heard every pernicious lie that was given to her Giant boyfriend while she was imprisoned wherever Mr. Hardon had chosen to squirrel her away.

Ronny grunted and covered his head with his hands. Mr. Hardon let out a baleful peal of laughter and Candy pleaded something to him. The Giant's deeper, louder voice drowned hers out, underscoring how insignificant she was when compared to him. More sobs and cries, more sadistic laughs and creepy moans. Ronny squirmed in his chair, massaged his face with his hands, and finally jumped out of his chair to grab more coffee. He didn't want to listen to... that deplorable stuff.

He clenched his jaw. Perhaps he should have killed the poor human when he had the chance, given her a merciful death. Then, he wouldn't have to hear everything, all those awful noises. Ronny's vindictive spirit was gradually chipping away, as hard as he clung to it. He passed by Martin's desk, and saw the man hunched over, oblivious to his surroundings, sniffling pathetically. Ronny curled his lip with disdain. He had no sympathy for that idiot. He was still bitter about Martin slamming him on the table earlier. His shoulders ached where the Giant had grabbed him. Ronny's poisonous attitude toward him boiled over with spite.

Ronny refilled his coffee cup and wandered around the office for a while, restless. He eventually wended his way back to his own desk. He stopped outside Mr. Hardon's door and could dimly perceive eerie, wailing howls of despair emanating from within. He couldn't help but cringe. If the other employees weren't so hellbent on avoiding this corner of the office where the boss lurked, he was certain he wouldn't be the only one that discovered the truth. Why didn't somebody else do something and take responsibility already? Ronny was exasperated by the ignorance of everyone around him.

The work day ended, and most of the employees were quick to leave. Mr. Hardon shouldered his laptop bag and exited his office, careful to lock the door behind him so nobody else could get inside. Ronny frowned slightly. He observed as Martin dragged himself into the elevator, completely obliterated. Ronny scowled again as anger flamed up inside him. He collected his things, took the elevator down to the lobby, and left, washing his hands of the whole affair.

He felt relieved to get some fresh air after being cramped in the stuffy office all day. The day was sunny, yet the air had a slight chill to it. Ronny wondered absently where Mr. Hardon had Candy trapped, and if she could see the sun at all. The obvious place, really the only place, to hide her would be in his desk drawer. Did he leave her there, or take her home? Ronny believed he would have noticed if Mr. Hardon had tried to smuggle Candy out in his bag or pocket. Then again, he could have tied her up and gagged her, so her cries would be smothered.

Ronny got home to his shabby apartment and changed out of his suit. He flopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. His apartment was a mess, but he didn't bother to clean it. He didn't care, and nobody else was around to care either. His ex always hated his sloppiness and pestered him to clean up. She complained about his sullen attitude, his sloth, his emotional detachment. She insulted and nagged. He couldn't stand the thought of her, with her despicable cheating and her whorish attention-seeking around other men. Yet, though he had buried his weaknesses for so long, he couldn't deny he was lonely, all alone as he was. He surveyed the furnishings of his apartment, shaking his head at the squalid mess, and felt like nothing but a shell of a person, like his insides had been scooped out with a big spoon.