Extraterrestrial | #wattys2016

scapegoat >> the mystery heightens

Word of the day: Scapegoat. A victim of some sort.  Or someone to blame for another's wrongdoing.

I was sitting at my computer desk, one hand fiddling with my pencil jar and the other typing the clickety-clack keyboard.  My eyes periodically glanced up to watch all who were leaving the building.  I usually stayed well after closing because I had so much to do before the next day.  

Despite my boss never really remembering he had hired me, he seemed to think I was an endless machine who could go on for days and days and days and days without stopping.  Every time I would come in for work, there would be a huge cardboard box filled with papers to retype, letters to respond to, new coding, new information about equipment and so on and so forth.  I was basically like his secretary without the sexual favours. 

Anyway, as I watched the woman who chewed gum as if it was a firecracker leave, I quickly saved my project, switched off my desk lamp, and grabbed my bag.  Looping the strap over my shoulder, I followed her to lock her out.  There was the overhead light, so, I wasn't stumbling about or using a penlight.

"Hey, James, you staying late again?"  She asked when she heard me approaching.

I stopped.  No.  Don't make small talk.  Please, just leave.  Oh my God?  Am I sweating?  I hate talking to women.  "Um, mhmm, yes.  Have a goodnight."

"We're all going out for drinks, want to join?"

Oh, now you invite me to social events!  Just because you've delayed this long, my answer is, "No.  I'm sorry.  I have work."

She laughed, almost choking on her gum.  "You're so adorable.   Come on, you can be on me...I mean, the drink is on me. Oh, so sorry!"   

She was blushing.  And she was making a big deal about her Freudian slip, which meant, she still wanted to talk about it.  Stop.  I don't like you.  You smell like a big packet of Sugerless Bubble Yum.   I stuttered and made an excuse about having to label folders, but she was looking at me strangely. 

It started getting real when she reached up with her fingers and pinched the wad of gum and removed it slowly from the tip of her tongue.

Gesturing to the disgusting chewy article, I said, "I hope you plan on throwing it away and not sticking it anywhere!"

She merely took out a tissue from her pocket, rolled it up there, and then pranced up to me.  

I backed away, avoiding her grabbing fingers. "Your friends are waiting."

The girl pouted, said something rude about me being "gay" or a "virgin" or something along those lines that she just assumed without doing thorough research.  She waved her hand in the air dramatically as she stormed off, pushing the door open as loud as she could and then letting it slam behind her.

I was beyond relieved.  

Going up to the door, I latched it.  As the locking sound echoed around the room, I suddenly had an awful realisation that I was alone.  Gulping, I began making may way to the stairwells leading downstairs.  As you should recall, the basement light always turned on at 8:00, but then it remained on.  No one really visited that area of the basement, so, I suppose no one really knew what happened when it was on.

I felt my fingers shaking, my legs wobbling, my stomach flipping, and my shirt suddenly became wet from my sweat.  A shuddering exhalation went in front of me, telling me I wasn't as brave as I thought I was.

Slowly, very slowly, I tip-toed down the metal steps until I was, at last, at the bottom.  When I got there, I saw the small rectangular window of the basement door just several yards ahead of me in a darkened hall.   My anxiety leapt to the ceiling and I kind of wanted to turn back.  But I couldn't, I don't like starting something and never finishing.  That was my OCD kicking in.

As I walked forward, hand trailing on the wall, I heard something behind me shuffle.  It sounded like it was coming from underneath the stairwell.  I froze, eyes closed and heart pounding against the cages in my chest.  Oh God, it was a monster.

Without a moment to lose, I spun around and in stiff steps, began making my way back up to the top.  I was almost going to take my first step before someone said,

"Come back, don't leave me!"

I froze again.  Should I obey?  Or flee for my life?  

The voice was weak, raspy, and a female's.  I knew all the voices of the office, but this voice was one I had never heard before.