The Dead Saga (Novella Part 2): Odium Origins by Claire C. Riley Page A

mentioning my sexuality to him, and I want a hole to open up beneath my chair and swallow me up.
    “You’re a rug-muncher?” He claps his hands together and barks out another laugh. “So, you only float the lady boat, huh?” He grins and looks away for a moment, his thoughts no doubt going somewhere disturbing. He finally looks back to me, adjusting his pants again. “So have you ever been with a man?” He narrows his eyes and leans down to me. “I mean, have you ever thought that maybe you’ve never met the right man?” He grins and leans further forward, breathing heavily in my face and making me want to gag when I smell the onions he’s had for lunch.
    “Sir?” I squeak out.
    He stands and walks behind me, his trademark move.
    I grimace.
    “You know, if you do ever want to try out some prime meat from the butchers’ counter instead of something from the fishmongers, I’m a willing participant.”
    His hand touches the back of my neck and I stand abruptly, bumping his mouth against my shoulder in an angry clash of teeth as I do.
    “Motherf…” he yells out.
    I turn around quickly, watching as he clasps a palm across his mouth. “Ohmygod, ohmygod! Mr. Slewson, I’m so sorry.” I grab some tissues from the box on his desk and hand the wad to him to dab the blood dripping from his mouth.
    “I think you chipped a toof! I bet you did that on murpose,” he slurs with a scowl. “Fucking dyke.”
    I didn’t do it on purpose, but I really wish I had, and I fight to stop the smile spreading across my face. “No, sir, no, it was an accident. You just made me jump,”
    You pervert .
    He scowls harder, but is interrupted from speaking when a scream sounds out from the hallway. He turns to look at the doorway, turning back to me with a frown.
    “Damn women, always so temperamental.” He looks at the tissue in his hand. “Get me some fucking ice,” he slurs, and heads back around to his chair.
    “Yes, sir, yes of course.”
    “And see what the hell’s going on out there.” He pulls out a mirror from his desk, opens his mouth wide, and begins to examine the inside to check the damage.
    I grab my pad from the floor and scurry out of the office, clicking his door shut behind me with a heavy sigh. I head back to my desk, throwing my pad on top, and frown as I look over at Mary’s desk and see all her things tipped over. If there’s one thing about Mary it’s that she’s a neat freak.
    Glancing around me, I finally notice the disarray of the entire office, and the distinct lack of people. I walk away from my desk and toward the break room, seeing that the door is shut, and it’s never shut. Damn door creaks louder than anything, so it’s always wedged open.
    Except now.
    I frown hard at it and then stop myself: frowns give you wrinkles. My hand presses down gently on the handle and I push the door inwards slowly, the creak almost deafening in the quiet of the office. I peer around the door, gasping as twenty sets of wide eyes stare back at me from behind the upturned desk where we normally eat our lunch.
    “Everything K?” I ask as I look them all over with a cautious smile.
     

Two.
     
    “Have they gone?” Eleanor whispers to me, staying behind the table with everyone else.
    I look behind me, back into the open-plan office. “Have who gone?” A chill runs across my arms, and I wish for the second time today that I would have worn something that showed less flesh.
    Eleanor comes around the table, her brown eyes fearful. “Those…things.”
    I smile at her. “Sweetie, are you okay?” I reach a hand out to touch her shoulder, but pull back when I see the blood on it. “What happened to you? Should I go get someone from first aid for you?” My eyes look to everyone else in the room, finally noticing their panicked expressions. “What’s going on? This isn’t some sort of prank, is it? Like Ashton Kutcher isn’t going to jump out on me or anything, because it’s not funny. I hate scary