The Scarred Man

Chapter 3

After a while of convincing, the big boss-man finally allows me to get up from the floor. From there, he sets up his office and is now meeting with each and every employee to decide which ones he is going to keep and which ones he is going to fire. 

Not that he has a lot to sort through- I mean, the place was desperate enough to allow me to work there after I turned in my first resume. 

I am now the last man standing- the last woman is standing right next to me- to be called to meet with the mean man.

"Vanessa Trombley" is called out and she turns to look at me nervously. I shoot her a thumbs up and she smiles lightly. 

Now I am the last person standing. I decide to rehearse my lines. I didn't make the best first impressions, but to be fair, neither did he.

Minutes later my name is called and i vaguely wonder where all the employees left through once they were done with the interview. He can't be finishing us off one by one can he? 

I wouldn't put it past him- he seems pretty pr*ckly.

I enter with a literal bang of the door and lightly jog through. His men are standing around the room and I greet each and every one of them.

"Hi, my names Miles"  I attempt to take the first man's hand to shake only for it to turn into a game of wrestle mania. 

"Just...give me your hand!" I yell with my legs surrounding his arm and hands grasping his left, finally able to shake it.

I'm lifted off of the man with a shout of "Enough!" 

"Okay, okay. I was only trying to be friendly.....it was his fault." I mutter as I'm dropped into the chair facing his desk. He looks tired.

"You look tired."

"Why should I keep you as an employee?" 

"Because I'm useful. I can slightly cook, I can provide security, I'm funny, you don't have to worry about a model company trying to pick me up anymore like you would have to with some of these guys," I joke and point behind me, "except for him. You don't have to worry about him either." I point and glare at the man I was wrestling beforehand and he growls slightly.

"Give it up."

"Give what up? Sorry, empty pockets." I pull my pockets out just to clarify. Empty, except some lint which I set on his desk.

"Your tough guy act. You can act all tough shit all you want, but you know what? It's all a fake. Your ugly face says it all. You're really just a lonely, scarred man."

I swallow. That hurt.

"Well, we can't all be perfect can we? You see, while you were sitting at your desk mooching off your parents success I was fighting for my life, the countries I was in, and everyone's lives in this room. So, you're welcome. And if you don't want me here, I will go. I'm not begging. I can live just fine without this pay. Comfortably, actually."

No I can't.

"Really?" He quirks an eyebrow,

"Really really."

"That's not what your file says."

"Well it's lying."

"Okay, you can stay. Shift starts tomorrow at 0200."

I nod and stand from my seat.

"Well, it wasn't so nice meeting you all. Bye."

"Hill."

At my last name, I turn around around and look at the man behind the desk.

"Don't piss me off. You won't like the outcome."

I quirk an eyebrow at him.

"You can't scare me. Go ahead with torture, its happened before. Killing? I'm no longer afraid to die. Poverty? I'm living it. I've already been to hell and back, then to hell again just to fuck with the devil some more."

"Well then I assure you that no one will have a problem when you disappear. Seems like you don't have any close family left anyways."

"Didn't need to tell me something I already knew." I reply and walk out the door. Not even bothering to take the bus I start to run.

His words echo in my head.

What do I have left? 

It's surprising how much your face can mean to you, and everyone around you. I guess that's why people always pick so much about it. I didn't understand, until now. 

Growing up I had lot's of people after my attention. In my squad I was constantly referred to as the 'pretty boy'. Now, I'm just a lonely veteran with an ugly face.

And I don't have anyone in my life to prove me wrong. To lie to me and say everything is going to be okay. 

I broke one of my only possessions, a mirror, just because I hated the sight it gave me. The truth.

My fiery red hair with the sides cut short and the top a little longer; a long, straight nose; red lips, and vibrant green eyes. The right side of my face has a long, ugly burn spreading across it. From my temple down a straight line to the end of my jaw. One ugly scar, caused by fire. My face is pretty lucky though. It healed up well, even if the people around me, and myself, find it repulsing. Many parts of the right side of my body look just like Deadpools, though he has it worse. I was lucky. Though they aren't the only scars I have they are certainly my most hated ones. 

It rains on the way home.

 I don't care. 

Once I find myself in my apartment I head straight to my corner for sleep. I lie down and tug my single blanket over myself, not caring that I'm still wet. The jog kept me pretty warm. Without dinner, I stare forward, thinking, until I fall asleep. 

After all, work starts at 0200.