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Chapter Three

“Um, I uh. What do you mean” My mouth tripped on the words as they fought their way out. Suddenly my hands felt clammy and I wanted to run from the office, from the building.

“What I said in the elevator stands Sarah. You remind me of myself.” He replied, his voice soft.

“Oh, well you couldn’t be more wrong. I’m not running from anyone, or anything.” I lied, walking toward the door, My hand grasped the handle once again. I went to open the door when Nick cleared his throat and spoke.

“I research all my potential employees before I give my managers the go ahead on an interview Sarah….”

My stomach dropped, and I literally felt like I was about to vomit. What could he know, I’d never told anyone. No one else knew about me, or my past. Except for my father. Nick was edging closer to the part of me I didn't want to deal with. Not yet.

I dug deep to find something to get Nick off my case, but I came up with nothing. I didn't want to have this discussion with him. We may have crossed all sorts of professional and personal lines in the space of a couple of hours, but in the end, we were still strangers.

“So what exactly do you think you know, Mr Jackson?” I said boldly as I went against my own thoughts in an attempt to call Nick's bluff. I spun on my heel so that I was once again facing him. He looked surprised, taken aback by my sudden change in demeanor. Still his eyes locked on to mine and he didn’t look away.

 “I know enough, to know you don’t want to go back to Genoa Springs” Nick replied, his voice steady and serious. A chill ran down my spine, and I wondered how he knew what he knew. 

“That’s a lucky guess Mr  Jackson, but then Genoa is a small town, and most young girls like me want to escape the first moment they get the chance” I replied honestly, It was the truth too, most Genoa teenagers dreamt of turning 18 and graduating school to escape for the bright lights of the city.

Nick’s eyes narrowed and he walked to his desk and sat back down.

“Sarah, I know enough to know that you don’t want Genoa, coming to find you” he replied, his voice low and quiet. Nervously I bit my cheek and began fumbling my fingers. I racked my brain, trying to work out how he knew anything about my past, when I’d told no one about it. I reluctantly opened the pandoras box of hurt and let myself think

Then I remembered my 15th birthday. I’d been sick on and off for weeks. I’d begun to get bloated and nauseas, so I went to the doctors instead of school one day. I remember the doctor telling me I was pregnant like it was yesterday. I remember the blood draining from my face and I remember fainting in the doctors room.

He’d asked me if I was okay, if someone was hurting me. I denied it of course, the daily threat of my life ringing in my ears as a reminder to stay quiet.

Of course I didn’t tell My father about the pregnancy, and naturally around 10 weeks I miscarried. As guilty as it made me feel, I was thankful that it happened the way it did.

A tear slid down my cheek and I blinked furiously to stop any more. I shoved the hurt away and let  my sadness turned to anger when I realised that the only thing that could have given him any inkling was reading my medical records. It was almost the only thing that would have ever told any kind of story about me.

“My medical records?” I scathed, a fresh wave of nausea rushed over me, and I wanted nothing more to storm out of the office, out of the building and never return. Nick was more than right though, I need this job. Nick looked at me blankly, as if the highly illegal gathering of information was completely acceptable.