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

movies. My girlfriend is always pulling this sort of thing on me, and I don’t like it one bit.” I let my words trail off as I frantically look around the room for hidden cameras.
    A high-pitched scream pierces the air, and Eleanor rushes forward and shoulder barges me out the way. Her hands slam the door shut, the long, drawn-out creaking from the hinges seeming even more ominous now. She grabs my hand and we back away from the door.
    “What’s going on?” I whisper, my heartbeat becoming frantic.
    “Shhhh!” Eleanor hushes me quietly and takes another step back from the door as a shadow falls underneath it.
    The air stills, and I hear a collective intake of breath as we all stare raptly at the shadow. I want to open the door, to tell them all to stop doing this now because I don’t like it one bit, but I don’t. Instead I cling onto Eleanor’s hand as if my life depended upon it, and I stay as still as I can, all the while watching the shadows along with everyone else.
    Minutes pass, and the shadow of whoever was outside the door leaves. I expect everyone to laugh and to start to chatter noisily like normal, probably bitch about Eleanor for scaring the heck out of us, but no. No one says anything. No one moves. No one speaks, and there is definitely no one laughing.
    I turn to face them all, taking in their fearful expressions.
    “Come on, girls. This is silly. Tell me what’s going on.” When no one answers me, I turn to Eleanor. “Come on, what’s going on? I don’t think this is funny now.”
    Her eyes are brimming with tears, her chin trembling, but she doesn’t say anything.
    “This is ridiculous. I have to get some ice for Mr. Slewson,” I pout.
    I step toward the door, but can’t make the second step. My heart continues to beat its uneven rhythm, and I squeeze my eyes shut, take a deep breath, and finally take another step forward.
    “Don’t open the door,” whispers someone from behind me, but I don’t know who it is. “Please don’t open the door.”
    I’ve listened to these women talk for years, I know every one of their little speech quirks—the sounds of their voices, their accents, what they sound like angry because of pervy Mr. Slewson, or sad after a break up—and yet, I don’t recognize this voice. Because this voice is laced with fear, and I’ve never heard any of their voices filled with fear before.
    My chin trembles even though I try to contain it, and regardless of the fear-filled voice I take another small step forward. Whatever is out there, it can’t be that bad, surely. My hand touches the handle, and I glance over my shoulder with a small smile.
    “Look, ladies. I don’t know what’s got you girls all in a tiz, but if we can face Mr. Perv on a daily basis, we can handle this…problem.” I choose my words carefully. “I’m sure whatever you saw is not as bad as you think it is. It’s that thing that you hear about, like sheep mentality or whatever. You’ve just all freaked yourselves out or whatever. Now come on, chins up, let’s face this together.”
    They murmur between themselves, the fear finally dissipating from the room, and slowly they creep forward themselves, still unsure, but looking more confused than petrified now. I nod and smile at them, finally feeling confident again as I face the door, turn the handle, and open it up.
    The creak is loud and echoes around the empty office, I square my shoulders instead of flinching like I want to. My eyes cast over the threshold. Apart from the drone of the computers in the background, which we don’t normally hear because of all the chatter, everything seems perfectly normal. Well, apart from the fact that we’re all huddled in the lunchroom together, of course.
    I turn back to face the girls. “See, it’s all K, nothing to worry about.” I smile and straighten out my skirt, only flinching when Eleanor begins to scream so loud I want to shake her. “Eleanor!” I gasp.
    A hand grabs the back of my