“Order,” Dr. Calloway barked, the way he only did when he was agitated. “This Board will come to order,” he repeated, quietly now, and leaned back into the oversized soft leather, stretched to mold to his skin by years and years of pressing into it.
Sarah looked at her notes, then very quickly glanced over at Benny. Benny shook his head. Not a good time, then. But was there, ever?
She cleared her throat and caught the twelve pairs of eyes zeroing on her face. She stood, cleared her throat again. “We can’t keep killing the patients, we just can’t. I…. I can’t.” She stared directly at Dr. Calloway, trying not to look away. She heard, almost distantly, the shuffling of expensive cloth, as board members shifted in their seats–much less soft than the Good Doctor’s–heard, too, Benny whisper something to her, but the blood was running too quickly, too loudly through her veins for it to register.
The coldness in the way Dr. Calloway looked into her eyes did. And it made her shiver, visibly, she was sure. She felt it then, a small pin prick into the tender skin of her wrist from her security bracelet, Calloway Genetics engraved into the shiny platinum plate blurring as she looked at it, the room spinning, slowly at first then faster and faster, her legs turning to jelly. She always suspected she couldn’t walk away from this, but it never occurred to her that it would happen in so banal a manner. No guns blazing, no cops, no outrunning anyone. Limp body on the Persian rug, not even bleeding enough for a clean up crew.
“This meeting of the Board is adjourned,” she heard Dr Calloway say, his voice steady as it almost always was. And she wished she had enough control of her nerves to smile at the irony of it all. She remembered how badly she’d wanted to sit at that table, hear that man speak to her–as an equal, almost. The thrill she’d gotten when he’d listened to HER ideas - a sensation so visceral, it was addictive. All of it she had craved for so long….
She closed her eyes, blocking the fluorescents that suddenly felt too bright and waited for it to be over. She smelled his perfume, a scent he must have had custom-made, as she’d never smelled it on anyone else before or since. She felt him lean over her, musk and lavender, money and power - a presence that could still make her blush.
“I did tell you that your contract with us was for life, Sarah. I meant it.”
This is my attempt at today's five minute freewrite prompt - unedited, because well - freewrite. If you want to participate, check out @mariannewest's post on it here
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