Chapter Two

 

Adrian

 

The traffic on Pullman Dr. zipped by in both directions as I stared at the three-story government building. Dark, tinted windows set into white stone glared back. It was ominous and not nearly as inviting as I expected a public facility to be. Logic said I had the job in the bag, but my pounding heart seemed to think differently.

I adjusted my glasses and fixed the collar on my button-up, so it wasn’t being pressed down by the strap of my shoulder bag. The information I’d memorized and studied for my interview flooded my mind on an endless loop, refusing to be forgotten, in case I needed it that day as well. How many more questions could they possibly ask me? My GPA notwithstanding, I was fully qualified for the position which was more than I could say for over half the other applicants.

Blowing out a breath, I worked to contain my nerves and crossed the street on the next green light. Second interviews weren’t given to just anybody. I’d nailed the initial interview, and among the twenty or so other people who’d applied, I didn’t know anyone else who’d made it to round two.

I needed the job desperately. If I could accumulate enough money over the summer, I was hoping I could convince my father to let me move out of student housing and into my own apartment. It was a long shot, but I couldn’t fathom spending another minute bunking with the three men I’d been stuck living with for the past four years. The job was pinnacle to my career and to my sanity.

With a Bachelor of Psychology under my belt, I was a logical choice for the opening position of mental health counselor. The counseling center was a government-run program which offered services to people who couldn’t afford a regular psychologist or ones who were in need of immediate intervention due to crisis. Often times, the clientele were also people who had been mandated to seek help in order to continue to have custody of their children or to regain it again if it was already lost. Psychiatrist’s waiting lists were often extensive, and unless you fell into their lap due to extreme circumstances like attempted suicide, you were often shit out of luck. Psychologists weren’t covered at all, so unless you had a decent job with added benefits, once again, you were screwed. Unfortunately, the system wasn’t perfect, but the government center was there to bridge the gap when someone needed immediate help and was at risk of falling through the cracks.

The front entrance was somewhat confusing if you were new to the building. There were various accommodations available under one roof including the government welfare office, unemployment services, subsidized housing, and more. I’d learned the first day I was there that the counseling sector was located on the third floor.

I took the elevator on my right and exited for the second time that week into a small waiting room with a large reception desk in front of me. Bright fluorescent lights overhead reflected off of the stark white walls, making everything seem new. Behind the long desk was a large, open-spaced room sectioned off by individual cubicles. There was nothing glamorous about it. It was a bleak, harsh, cramped, and extremely stiff atmosphere—exactly like every other government building I’d seen in my life. But, it served its purpose.

I let the woman behind the computer know I was there and found a seat in the waiting area. Neurotically checking to ensure I was put together, I tried not to fidget or work myself into a sweat. The last thing I wanted to do was walk into my second interview with armpit stains. If my roommates found out, I’d never hear the end of it.

Dylan and Calvin had my stomach in a knot already that morning. After my first interview, I’d taken the bus home, and the heater had been cranked so high everyone on board was roasted alive by the time it made its routine stop on campus. I’d been swimming in a pool of sweat. The end of April breeze had done nothing to solve the issue during my short walk to the house. My roommates had taken one look at my saturated shirt and ribbed me endlessly. Never mind the cause, they fabricated their own story and ran with it. Because I was having a second interview, they’d rehashed it all before I’d left earlier, successfully adding stress to my already elevated nerves.

In a few short minutes, the same gentleman who’d conducted my first interview came from a side door which led around back. He caught my eye and smiled.

“Adrian, come on back, I’m all set for you.”

I stood, hustled to where he held the door and offered my hand to shake, embarrassed it was slightly damp. My roommates’ taunting words rang through my head and made my heart pound even harder.

“Nice to see you again, Mr. Polaris.”

Did I stutter? Was my voice firm and confident enough? Did I look him in the eyes? Could he hear my heart thrashing?

“Stanley, please.”

I cleared my throat but couldn’t bring his name past my lips, it felt too uncomfortable to call him by his first name.

He wound through the confusing maze of cubicles until we reached his section somewhere near the back on the righthand side. When offered, I slid into the seat across from his desk and worked hard not to fidget. I sat straight and put on an appearance of assuredness I didn’t feel.

Yes, believe it or not, Mr. Polaris, I have a Bachelor of Psychology. However, what you don’t see on my resume is that I’m all brains with very little social skills. I was so screwed. My armpits were definitely sweating. Note to self, buy stronger deodorant.

Mr. Polaris got comfortable and folded his hands under his chin, grinning wide. My heart skipped a beat. I wasn’t sure what that meant or how I was supposed to react.

“Are you nervous?”

Was he kidding? Was it a trick question?

“Umm… Somewhat,” I answered honestly with a strained laugh.

“Well, then let’s not keep you on the edge of your seat. You’re here for formality purposes only. The job is yours if you want it. You were our first choice. Congratulations.”

“What?” The kneejerk reaction was out of my mouth before I could think to compose myself and respond professionally. “Really?”

“Really. You are more than qualified, Mr. Anderson, and we’d be honored to have you on our team. We understand you are returning to school in September, but we hope you’ll be interested in staying on in some capacity during your school year as well.”

I could hardly believe my ears. First choice? Working through school would be tough, but a government counseling job would look incredible on my resume and would be my ticket away from the hell I’d been living in.

I shook my head in disbelief, working to find appropriate words to convey my gratitude. “Wow, thank you. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes.”

I smiled and slid my glasses up my nose as I nodded frantically. “Yes. Oh, wow. Of course, yes.”

Mr. Polaris extended his hand, and I shook it with the same vigor he’d shown before. My mind raced with the possibilities in front of me. I needed to talk to my dad. Somehow, someway, I had to convince him to let me find a new place to live. It was a reality. I’d offer to pay all the extra costs so it wouldn’t be any different, and he’d have to say yes. There was a light at the end of my tunnel, and for once in my life, it wasn’t a train. For the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to hope.

We spent the following few hours going over everything I needed to know for my new position including salary, responsibilities, where my personal cubicle was located, as well as signing all the pertinent paperwork. After that was taken care of, he gave me a small tour of the third floor. I was grateful to find out there were a number of closed off meeting rooms where sessions with clients were conducted. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask because the lack of privacy in a cubicle put confidentiality in jeopardy.

It was close to the lunch hour when we wandered back to Mr. Polaris’ desk. My stomach rumbled embarrassingly loud, but he either didn’t hear or pretended not to notice. That was the price I paid for skipping breakfast.

“Okay, so I’m going to set you up with a schedule straight away and email it to you. We’ll make your start date next week. So there aren’t any surprises, I hope you understand that the likelihood is you’ll be starting off on the graveyard shift and taking the crisis line calls as they come in.”

“I understand.”

Knowing the facility offered twenty-four-hour services, I was prepared to be working the shittiest shifts they had and having the grunt work thrown on my shoulders. I was okay with that. If it ever got to me, all I needed to do was remind myself what I was working toward. It wouldn’t be forever.

It was after one before I left the facility. The sun had disappeared at some point—being stuck in a windowless section of the building had its disadvantages—and rain clouds had moved in. As I wandered to the bus stop, the first few drops began to fall. I zipped my jacket all the way up and ducked my head to keep the splatter off my glasses. It was a futile effort. Within ten feet, the sky opened up, and the rain fell in sheets.

My good mood washed away as I jogged to the bus stop, arriving just in time to miss my bus. Since it wasn’t a stop with a shelter, I was at the mercy of the elements. By the time the next bus came fifteen minutes later, my dark brown hair was stuck to my head and rivers of water rolled down my forehead and dripped off my nose. I was soaked through.

I removed my glasses since they were useless at that point and tried to remember it was a good day. I got a job. A damn good job. One in my field which would help further my career in time. Even though I would probably be the butt of many jokes when I got home due to the unfortunate change in weather, at least I knew there was an eventual end to my misery.

Dewhurst was home to one of the smaller Universities in Southern Ontario, and the last place my parents had wanted me to attend. Campus was like a world of its own. It was its own little community once you entered its domain. We had our own restaurants and stores, along with two massive buildings which housed residence and a number of smaller detached houses which, in essence, were the same thing but on a larger scale. Housing offered separate rooms, kitchens, common areas, and private bathrooms; all amenities you didn’t get when you stayed in the dorm rooms.

When I’d graduated high school four years back and decided to move to Dewhurst for school, I’d thought it would be better to rent one of the houses. Sharing with three other people and having more space seemed like the better option at the time. Oh, how wrong I had been. With four years of life experience behind me, common kitchens and public style bathrooms sounded like a dream come true compared to what I’d ended up with.

By the time I put the key in the lock of my front door, I was a drowned rat. The twenty-minute bus ride had barely given me any time to dry off, and the minute I was at my stop, I had to walk another five minutes home in the rain. My running shoes squished and sloshed full of rainwater, and the cold had sunk right into my bones.

I shivered as I pulled the door open and slinked inside as quietly as possible. With luck, I could sneak to my room without being noticed.

Inside the front door, I pulled off my drenched shoes and socks, rolled my slacks so they wouldn’t drip a trail behind me, and tiptoed up the stairs by the front entrance. Loud bass music thumped through the walls, so I knew Calvin was definitely home. The guy had no respect for anyone else in the house and cranked his shitty music at all hours of the day or night. It’d taught me to never voice if I had a migraine or a test I needed to study for. That was a sure-fire way to invite a steady marathon of Marilyn Manson or something equally mind-grating.

The upstairs hallway was empty, so I slipped into the bathroom to snag a towel before beelining it to my bedroom. I was two steps away from a safe escape when Calvin’s door flew open behind me, sending a pulsing wave of music into the hall. Every muscle in my body tensed.

So close.

“Holy shit! Adrianna fell in the fucking river.”

The pair snorting laughter behind me could only be Calvin and Dylan. Marcus was probably in class or had escaped to the library to study. As much as I’d have liked to call him the mature one, that maturity only extended to school work. He may not have been as cruel as the duo behind me, but he sure took joy in their games.

Ignoring their commentary, I slipped into my room and closed the door, engaging the lock. The only small piece of solidarity I could find was within those four walls. It wasn’t much: a double bed, dresser, work desk, and bookshelves which lined two walls, filled with dozens of psychology textbooks. Everything was neat and tidy, exactly how I liked it. Because of my ingrained sense of order, it took less than thirty seconds for me to realize something was missing.

The chill that had set into my bones instantly disappeared as a stone of heat lodged itself in my stomach. My blood boiled and flamed in my cheeks, hotter and hotter. I dropped my backpack on the ground and spun, unlocking the door and yanking it open so fast I nearly clipped my face in the process.

Without my glasses, I was running blind, but I didn’t care. I shouldered into Calvin’s door as I turned the knob and pinned him and Dylan with a look of pure animosity. My insides trembled, and I could physically feel the flush in my cheeks intensifying.

“Where is my laptop?”

Calvin lounged across his bed while Dylan occupied the padded desk chair which he spun around at my entrance before kicking his feet up beside Calvin. The expressions on their faces were a blur, but I could tell by the tone of their laughter exactly what I’d be seeing if I could see properly.

Based on the fuzzy outline, I knew Dylan had my laptop on his lap.

“Kill the music,” he barked at Calvin, not turning his head from me.

I tried to glare, but when I was visually impaired, it was useless. Even with my glasses on, I had no skills for intimidation, and they knew it.

“Give it back,” I snapped again. “I have all my school work on there. You can’t mess around with my stuff.”

“We just borrowed it,” Calvin said when the music died.

He pushed himself to a sitting position and ran a hand over his almost shaved head. Calvin was a narcissist and walked around the house half-dressed all the time, flaunting his defined muscles and hugging the mirrors every chance he got.

I ground my teeth as I flipped my gaze between them, unsure how to get out of there with my property as quickly and easily as I could without causing myself problems.

“You’ve got some interesting stuff on here, Adrianna.” It was Dylan who responded that time.

He and Calvin shared a look, and despite my lack of proper sight, I knew the situation was going from bad to worse.

“Didn’t you ever learn to delete your search history?”

My mind raced a hundred miles a minute trying to figure out where they were going with their taunting, and when I found the answer, it timed precisely with Dylan hitting play on whatever was on the screen in front of him before he turned it around. Not that it did me any good. I couldn’t see it, but I didn’t have to.

The noises that filled the room were unmistakable and frighteningly familiar. My cheeks burned. My entire body flamed and heated, and I was certain I was going to throw up from embarrassment. It took a good twenty seconds for me to break out of my stunned stupor before I flew into the room and grabbed my laptop from a hysterically laughing Dylan. I slammed it closed and ended the humiliating reminder of my lonely nights.

“Y-you suck, asshole.”

Dylan chuckled and pointed to the laptop I was hugging. “Nah, not like that guy on there I don’t.” He shuddered with revulsion. “Not my thing.”

“I had a feeling you batted for the other team,” Calvin jumped in, the humor from a moment before no longer present in his tone. “You better not be making eyes at me when my back is turned, or there will be trouble, you hear me, Anna?”

I didn’t bother answering and bolted from the room, clasping my laptop against my sopping wet jacket. Before I made it far, Dylan yelled, “We left you some preferred viewing since we didn’t much enjoy your taste in porn. Hope you don’t mind. Just a little gift from us to you.”

I slammed my door to their laughter and clicked the lock back in place before leaning heavily against the wall and sliding to the floor. The grating pulse of their music boomed back to life, and I squeezed my eyes closed, refusing to allow tears to surface.

Soon. I have a good job now. Dad will understand for once. He’ll be reasonable. A few more months, then, I’ll find somewhere better to live. Don’t let them win.

Once my heart had calmed, and I was sure they were done with me for the moment, I slid my laptop back onto my desk and stripped out of my wet clothes. A warm shower would have been ideal, but it was better to stay invisible while the duo was around. I didn’t trust them to leave me alone, especially when they knew they had me worked up. On that note, my growling stomach would have to wait as well.

I found a warm pair of joggers and a hoodie to wear before cleaning my glasses and putting them back on. Finger combing some semblance of order back into my thick, shaggy hair, I plopped on my bed and rooted inside my shoulder bag to see if anything had remained dry.

For the most part, I’d lucked out. The introductory package Mr. Polaris had given me was damp around the edges, but not soggy. I laid out the pages separately across my bed and skimmed them, familiarizing myself with my new job description and company policies.

After I’d gone over everything twice, I flopped onto my desk chair and opened my laptop. Mr. Polaris had said he’d try to get me my schedule sometime that afternoon, so I wanted to check my email.

When my password protected screen came up, I ground my teeth. How had those two idiots managed enough brain power between them to crack my code? It made me want to believe Marcus was in on their scheme, too. He was the only one who had half a clue about computer software and could have finagled something like that. First order of business would be a new password.

“How good is your Klingon, assholes?”

Once that was taken care of, I opened my browser and favorites bar so I could pull up my email. The moment the home screen came up, it was accompanied by a pop-up, then another, and another after that.

“What the…”

Dozens of little random windows came to life as fast as I could close them until I simply leaned back in my chair with my fingers knotted in my hair and watched it all happen in front of me.

“You fucking pieces of shit. What the hell did you do?”

When I couldn’t watch the nightmare unfold any longer, I slammed my laptop and worked through a few deep breaths. Soon wasn’t soon enough.

If I flew down the hall to rant and rave over what they’d done, it would only stroke their already inflated egos and egg them on. They never saw me as threatening. I was their greatest source of amusement and had been for four years. The best course of action was to solve the problem on my own and pretend it had never happened.

I was smart enough to fix it.

I hoped. Computers weren’t necessarily within my field of study, but I was a master at research, and the world wide web was my oyster.

It took an hour of mind-numbing reading on my phone to problem solve a few ways to undo whatever they’d done. When I discovered they’d removed my virus scan program altogether, I resorted to rolling back my entire system to an earlier date. It was a good thing I was strict about backing up files.

While my computer worked through the re-roll, I pulled up my email on my phone instead to check if Mr. Polaris had sent over my schedule. I smiled for the first time in hours when I saw he had.

 

Mr. Anderson,

 

It’s great to have you on board. I have set up a few training shifts for you this coming Thursday and Friday 8am-12pm. They will be short, four-hour shifts, but it should be enough to show you the ropes. Next Monday, we’ll have you on the crisis lines overnight, and of course, you’ll also be available should other emergencies come up. See you on Thursday.

Stanley Polaris

 

I sent him a quick, acknowledging reply and tucked my phone away with a grin. Soon. Soon, I could escape residence hell.

While I waited for my computer to work through its issue, I pulled out a book I’d read a hundred times over. Science and Human Behavior by B.F. Skinner. With all the hours of reading I’d put in on human behavior and the psychology behind it, it astounded me that I couldn’t seem to pull myself out of the pit I’d been living in my entire life. Bullies and their actions made sense in theory, but for as smart as I was, I couldn’t seem to escape their hold. I seemed to be a doomed target no matter where life took me.