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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/215308-The-Scream
Rated: 13+ · Book · Gothic · #593396
My completed stories
#215308 added December 23, 2002 at 6:23pm
Restrictions: None
The Scream
If she could explain it she would...wouldn't she?

She sits at her desk, music pouring out of the speakers above her head like water down a spout. As quietly as possible she begins to dig through her purse, looking for nothing in particular. Her eyes remain locked on the computer screen, her hand shifting and dancing around the familiar items in her handbag: lipstick, compact, car keys, wallet, comb, asprin bottle, pantyliner.

She looks busy as co-workers pass by, glancing but not staring, nodding but not speaking. She shuts her eyes for a moment, a long blink.

"Casey?" Her boss speaks clearly enough and she opens her eyes and smiles, her hand still hidden in the depths of her brown mock-leather purse.

"Sorry, sir. Good morning." Casey trips over the formality, her voice tense, taunt, like elastic stretched to it's limit.

"Good morning? Your eyes were shut." Mr. Bower was never kind, never smiling, never anything but Mr. Bower, the man at work, the boss from hell.

"I was thinking about the productivity reports, sir." Casey says as she imagines plunging her letter opener into his skull and pulling out his eyeballs with her staple remover. She hides a satisfied smile.

"Well think with your eyes open. I'm expecting a very important client." Mr. Bower looks her over one more time and then heads into his office.

"Damn." Casey grumbles as she begins to remove her hand from it's hiding place.

"And bring me my coffee." Mr. Bower says as he shuts his door and Casey thinks of arsenic and wonders where she can get some as she puts her purse to the side and walks to the coffee pot.
In the halls men smile at her, staring at her long legs and shapely body garbed in a short black skirt and a tight fitting jacket. She tosses her auburn hair and resists the urge to flirt. Mr. Bower doesn't believe in co-workers dating each other. Mr. Bower is a prick.

Casey pours the rich dark liquid into her boss' plain blue mug and walks back to his office. She glances at the letter opener one time before knocking softly.

"Come in. Come in." Mr. Bower calls from behind the thick wood sounding muffled, like someone holding a pillow over his face. Casey smiles at the thought.

"Anything else, sir?" Casey asks and Mr. Bower looks up from his paperwork as she sets the cup down.

His eyes sweep her body and she resists the urge to cross her arms over her breasts and flee. "Close the door." Mr. Bower growls lowly and Casey is tempted to refuse. His glare sends her scrambling to the large mahogany double doors. She shuts them quietly. "Lock them." He says and she does. "Casey, how long have you worked for me?" Mr. Bower asks.

Too long she thinks but says, "A year and a half sir."

"That is what I thought. Your body is very nice, Casey. Let me see it." Mr. Bower says and Casey reaches for the latch on the door. "Turn around."
Even as her trembling fingers unbolt the doors the mechanical lock sounds, triggered by the button under Mr. Bower's desk. "Turn around." He says again.

Casey turns and stares at him, her mind racing ahead to his death. "No, sir. I will not show you my body."

"Oh, so noble suddenly." Mr. Bower stands and walks slowly around his desk. "Do you want to get fired, Casey?" He asks coldly.

"Yes." She says without hesitation. "If you expect me to strip for you to keep my job, then yes, I do want to get fired." Casey crosses her arms and shakes her head.

"Good. Then you're fired. Come here." Mr. Bower lunges for her and pulls her against him. Casey shuts her eyes and screams.

"Are you alright?" The voice touches her ears and Casey opens her eyes, her hand still in her purse. She looks up at Mr. Bower, her boss. Handsome, single, kind Mr. Bower with his thick brown hair and tender smile.

"Yes, sir." Casey smiles easily, feeling only joy at her boss' attention.

"Good. I am expecting a very important client
today, Casey. If you would be so kind as to bring me my coffee and then we will discuss the budget analysis you typed up." Mr. Bower gives her a warm smile and walks into his office.

Casey pulls her hand from her purse and strodes down the hall. In the halls men smile at her, staring at her long legs and shapely body garbed in a short black skirt and a tight fitting jacket. She tosses her auburn hair and resists the urge to flirt. Mr. Bower is the only man in her life. Not really, but she wishes he was.
She returns to her desk and snatches up the bright red folder marked BUDGET and knocks on the door to Mr. Bower's office.

"Come in." He calls out, his voice clear as crystal despite the thickness of the door. Casey slips in and shuts the door. She places the coffee on his desk and sits. "Very good." Mr. Bower murmurs as he sips. "Wonderful." He says. Casey smiles.

"Good. I'm glad you like my coffee." She makes her voice sexy but not obviously sexy. She opens the folder.

"First things first, Casey." Mr. Bower says and Casey feels her heartbeat quicken.

"Of course." She whispers, daring to imagine his touch, his passion.

"My fiancee has informed me that the caterer has not called and the flowers are the wrong color. I thought you had everything taken care of." Mr.
Bower crosses his arms and frowns slightly.

"I do, Mark, I'll talk to the florist." Casey crosses her legs suggestively and is pleased when Mr. Bower's eyes drop and look.

"You do that." Mr. Bower says absently. Casey stands and approaches the desk.

"Mark." She whispers and he looks in her eyes. He stands as she leans and their lips meet in an embrace. The moment is broken by an anguished scream as his fiancee enters the office.

"Casey. Casey." Mr. Bower stands in front of her desk. Typical Mr. Bower, hard working Mr. Bower.

"Sorry, sir. Long night." Casey apolgizes as she places her purse aside. "I was just getting some asprin." She says as she holds up the bottle and shakes it for emphasis.

"Well, bring me my coffee and then get to work on the Williams Account." Mr. Bower stares at her a moment. "Are you alright?" He asks finally.

"Yes, sir. I'm fine. I'll bring you your coffee right away." Casey replies as she stands. Mr. Bower nods and disappears into his office, leaving the doors open. Casey steps around her desk and heads to the coffee pot. In the halls men smile at her, staring at her long legs and shapely body garbed in a short black skirt and a tight fitting jacket. She tosses her auburn hair and resists the urge to flirt. She fills the mug and returns to her desk. Casually, she picks up the letter opener and tucks it up her sleeve, pointy end pressing against her palm. She enters Mr. Bower's office and shuts the door.

Mr. Bower looks up startled. "What is it, Casey?" He asks.

Casey shakes her head as she walks to his desk and hands him the coffee. He takes the mug and places it to the side. "My door is always open, Casey. Tell me what's wrong." he presses.

"I thought you loved me." Casey tearfully says as she positions the letter opener in her palm, her movements hidden behind the desk.

"What?" Mr. Bower lifts an eyebrow and stares in confusion.

"I thought you loved me!" Casey shouts as she plunges the dagger-shaped letter opener into his neck. Blood gushes over her hand, drenching it in thick red liquid. As she stumbles backwards, she stares in horror as Mr. Bower stands and pulls the letter opener from his neck.

"Interesting developement, Miss Shay. Shall we see what happens next?" He asks coldly as his face begins to throb and change. Fangs appear and his eyes pale, taking on an almost colorless blue. His nails grow longer, his finger extend, stretching inhumanly long. As he takes hold of Casey by her neck she screams.

Casey opens her eyes and looks at her computer screen. She continues to run her hand absently through her purse. Ryan O'Nally approaches her desk.

"Hey. Mr. Bower won't be in today." Ryan says casually as he leans against her desk. "He called to say that he has a morning meeting with an important client and an afternoon brunch with his fiancee, then dinner with his parents." Ryan smiles a small condenscending smile. "Ah, to be the boss."

"Yes." Casey says as she watches Ryan walk away. "To be the boss." She pulls her hand from her purse and stares at the red blood stains that cover it in thick drying globs. "To be the boss." Her laugh is short and tense, her body shaking only slightly. Casey takes a breath, closes her eyes and screams.

© Copyright 2002 DragonWrites~The Fire Faerie~ (UN: mystdancer50 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/215308-The-Scream