The North Star | COMPLETED ✔️

Chapter 20 ~ Candy

What do you all think about this cover I made? Use it? Keep the one I have?

Chapter 20

The oppressive building loomed in front of me like the gallows, and paranoia weighed my shoulders down as I approached. Probation department was spelled out in blunt, harsh, black lettering across the ashen block. My eyes darted about, ears primed for the sound of a throttle, praying I wouldn't hear one.

But I had more than just the club to worry about. Officer Jones was not one to be fooled, and I was about to walk into his office looking fresh out of a drunk tank.

I kept my pace neutral, neither too slow, nor quick. Nonchalant. I'm not nervous at all, I lied to myself, hoping it would bleed into my outward appearance. I highly doubted it was working.

When I stepped through the doors, my eyes immediately shot to the reception desk, to the bullet proof glass, and the woman who always sat behind it. Her head lifted, and I was once again struck by how absolutely miserable she looked. Like some cartoon villain. Her face a permanent scowl, she conjured images of dead puppies lying at her feet and mermaids tied up under the counter.

I approached her.

"Sign in. Take a seat." She shoved a clipboard through the window and clicked away at her keyboard, probably emailing Satan.

Not bothering to respond, I wrote my name down and took my usual place in one of the hard wooden chairs.

My nerves tingled beneath my skin. The musty aroma and general depressing atmosphere hit me every time. It caused my fingers to curl in on themselves, and made each one of my muscles to tighten and hold.

The man behind the first door in the hall held my life in his hands. He was the hangman, holding the lever that decided whether I lived or died. Sitting in that cheap, waiting room chair was like standing on the podium with the rope hung loosely around my neck.

Only one other person occupied the lobby. He was seated across from me, waiting his turn. Every couple of seconds he'd clear his throat, on and on and on. Clearing his damn throat. It echoed through the room, each time a grate against my already shot nerves.

I took deep breaths and gripped the arms of my chair. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore, but each time he did it, my teeth would clench a little tighter.

He did it again. Loud and deep. The base to it sent images of mucus playing across my eyelids. I gagged.

He did it again.

I lost it. "For fuck's sake! Can somebody give this guy a fucking cough drop?"

I awoke the kraken. The wicked receptionist zeroed in on me with laser eyes and ill intent. "Is there a problem?"

"Nope." I'm a fucking idiot. "I was just trying to help the guy out," I said, voice overly polite. My eyes shot to the man, and I smiled at him.

He didn't return the gesture, but he did stop clearing his throat.

Thank God.

"Jessie Murphy!" Officer Jones' voice echoed out like the crack of a whip. I looked up to see the monster of a man standing inside his doorway.

He was a mountain, with dark mahogany skin and a head shiny enough to see myself in. He glared over at me with clear contempt.

I was quick to stand and walk towards his office. "Good afternoon, sir," I said, once again overly polite, as I took the seat in front of his desk.

I'd been in his office quite a few times, and it always looked the same. Plain brown wooden desk, bare except for the placard reading Officer Jones. A photo of a pretty woman smiling with a little boy, I assumed his wife and son. A laptop, and... a bowl of candy.