This is my baby.
And every day that a new fire starts within the office, I want nothing more than to give this ‘baby’ up for adoption. The thrill is gone, and more importantly, I don’t feel even an ounce of pride when I walk in the doors.
Being that I’m about two hours early, and the staff shouldn’t even be in until eight, shocked would be an understatement when I pull up and see some lights on. I have been so lost in thought that, when I drive up, I don’t even check the front lot before I pull my car behind the building. I guess this would explain the ridiculous power bills; idiots keep the lights on all night! Since I’m the only one that ever parks back here, it doesn’t even cross my mind to wait until normal hours to go in.
My phone chimes a few times before I make it to the back door, and with a huff, I dig it out of my back pocket and start checking my alerts and emails. Unlocking the door quickly, I walk into the back break room, kitchen area, with my phone still in front of my face. Bad habit of mine, having the phone be a constant attachment to my body, but when you’re running two companies in two different states, you need to be available at all times.
I brush off the tingling feeling that makes my skin crawl. Being this early, I’m not surprised that I’m having another one of my ridiculous fears creep up on me. I make another mental note to talk to the doctor about that. I’m too damn old to be afraid of every bump in the night.
Speaking of, I clear the alert reminding me of my appointment with Dr. Maxwell, and switch over to my emails again and surf through the crap while I wait for the coffee to brew. My mind is struck stupid when I see a message from my mother, asking me to schedule in a call at my earliest convenience. Ha, I don’t think so. Deleting the rest of the junk, I pull up my text screen to send Chelcie a message to let her know that I’ve made it in and will see her when she arrives.
I shove my phone back in my pocket and reach for a mug. Right when my hand closes around my favorite University of Georgia mug, it hits me why I had such a sense of unease when I walked through the back door.
The alarm.
It wasn’t armed, and from what I can tell, the door sensors didn’t even chime.
Suddenly, that nagging sense of dread doesn’t seem so ridiculous. I set the mug down quietly, and with a deep breath, turn to face the door leading into the open reception area. My head does a nice imitation of a bobble head as I look between the door to the offices, and the one that leads outside. Fight or flight.
God! I’m so sick of being afraid of everything! I feel like this is a defining moment. Run again, or stand up and fight for my life.
I should know better. Doesn’t every horror movie have that scene that has you screaming at the stupid bimbo who runs straight into the dangerous killer? Yeah, I should know better, but unfortunately, my mind has decided it’s had enough of the two-year freak fest, had enough of being a scared little pussy.
Ever since yesterday and my ‘moment’ with Beck in Greg’s office, I’ve felt different. Not different enough that I can pinpoint the change, but I don’t feel so . . . damaged. I almost feel a little like the old Dee. I want that Dee back, and I’m ready to fight to get there. That’s the only reason I can think of that would make me take the steps needed to bring me to the solid wood door leading into the offices. When my hand touches the cold knob, I jump slightly, but pull my strength, and try to muster up some of that courage I thought was long gone.
You can do this, Dee. Just open the door and when you see the office is empty have a good laugh. Nothing to it.
Turning the knob, I silently push the door until there’s just enough space for me to see into the brightly lit room. I gasp when the first thing I see is a tall figure dressed in black with a mask over his face, standing right in front of the open doorway. I scream loud enough that my own ears ring and try to pull the door shut. The beefy hand that reaches out and stops the door from closing scares me enough that I lose my footing and fall to my ass.
Panting in fear, I quickly back up, knocking my head against the table in the middle of the room. I keep crawling as fast as I can backwards until my spine hits the wall with a thump. All the while, the tall figure keeps slowly stalking towards me, like a predator would his prey.
“Where is it, bitch?” The voice isn’t one I’ve heard before, but then again, the blood rushing in my ears is enough to make the most familiar voice unrecognizable.