The Prisoner Project

TWENTY NINE

I frowned. "So that means all the other interviews for the day are over too? But it's only 3pm, isn't that a bit early?"

She blinked a couple of times. Then she looked at me like I wasn't feeling well. "Miss Black, you're the only one who has these interviews."

"Huh." — was all I could manage. My fingers gripped so hard on the door handle that I certain my palms would be injured. It was all that held me up.

I was the only person doing the Prisoner Project in the entire SSCD. That made no plausible sense considering the advertisement didn't ask for one woman; considering what Frank had told me.

It was harrowing to hear.

"Miss Black, are you feeling okay? You look a little pale." The woman neared me with a single step.

I shot out my hand to stop her from coming any closer. "Are you new here?

The woman took a cautioned step back. She looked alarmed. "What—? No. Did I do something wrong that made you think that? If it's the handkerchief, I'm so sorry about—"

"No. You're fine. I just need to know if you're new here." My words were through gritted teeth and I knew that she could sense my desperation.

Her voice was a little uneasy and I couldn't blame her. I probably looked as deranged as I felt. "A little new. I've been here for about a week and some days. But I assure you I know how to do my job. If I messed up today, it's because I'm nervous and I—"

"Did you happen to do an interview to start here on the 26th of September?"

Shock registered in her features. "How did you know?"

Because I was there too.

And it hit me. So fucking hard.

I looked down at her clean shoes, her coiffed hair, her knee-length skirt and was immediately transported back to the first day I walked into SSCD. I had seen so many women in the room, all neat and perfumed, and I had felt so out of place. Unbeknownst to me, it was for a very sick reason and I was beginning to see that.

I was barely breathing. "What time was your interview?"

"Why are you asking me all this?" The woman looked defensive all of a sudden.

I stepped forward. My eyes were reddened from how much fear and rage pooled inside of them. "This isn't about you. I'm just trying to make my life easier. Please, just answer me. What time was your interview?"

She sighed, still defensive. "It was a group interview. We all had it together. Six o' clock."

"Oh my god." I gasped in horror as cold realisation dawned on me that she, and the other women that I had seen, had all come for a different secretarial job.

Whilst I had been ushered into a darkened room with Frank by six o' clock, they had all been ushered into another room for a real job interview. This woman hadn't read the same job description as I had. I wasn't just randomly selected that day.

I was chosen.

Way before I had walked in.

I held back my nausea and wrenched open the door of the interview room. The only thing fuelling me was sobering fear and a sickening desire to leave. This whole ordeal was obviously a lot darker than I had imagined. It was sinister.

It was, as Banshee had said, utterly saddening.

My feet pounded on the concrete floor as I tried to leave this building as fast as I could.

Just as I had left the hallway and out into the main hall, I froze. I noticed a flurry of activity and a familiar voice coming from the exit. As I slowly approached the exit, the burly man who had let me in the other day wasn't posted there.

I scanned my finger and let myself out once it turned green. When I got outside, I noticed it had begun to rain but that wasn't the thing that horrified me.

Right there, outside the door, was James. The intern who had helped me with the address. He was leaning against a car with his head down. I took few steps to get to him but the closer I got, the stranger he looked. He didn't look like he was just chilling. If anything, he was slumped against the car.

Before I could open my mouth to speak, two muscular security men pushed past me and grabbed him. Suddenly, he was being manhandled  and roughly shoved into a black car. His head was dropped as though he had been hurt and his hair was unruly, matted against his face.

I was horrified. I wanted to ask what the hell was going on. I wanted them to stop but I couldn't speak because my heart was lodged in my throat.

When they lifted his head to say something in his ears, I noticed his face. James had a blackened eye and his cheek was bruised. Someone had hurt him. And as though he knew I was there, his eyes opened and he locked eyes with mine.

It was only for a second.

But in the seconds before they slammed the car door, I was certain I saw his lips turn up into a small smile. He mouthed to me with a sadist humour in his eyes. "Told you. Going out with a bang."