Harsh, fake light suddenly fills the room, making everything ugly.
, once standard looking, almost looks inhuman and evil under the illumination. His skin, usually unnoticeable, is now a pasty white. It droops and sags, creating a much older man. The once friendly brown eyes are currently bottomless pits of darkness.
"Nice to meet you here," he says slyly as if he didn't drag me in here himself. A cold, metal chair is taken from the far end of the room.
"Ladies first," he says while gesturing to the chair. I politely sit while he takes out another similar chair for him to sit on.
"Now, Katniss." He's says my name as if he were a snake, making the s into a slithering hiss.
"Perhaps you are wondering why I decided to talk to you. That is no matter. The real matter is."
"Today." A sickly grin stretches over his face.
"You said in your application that you adore kids. Is that correct?" he asks, quickly changing the subject.
"Yes," I lie quietly.
"I said 'Is that correct'?"
"Yes," I said loudly.
"Very good." A slight pause enters the room and handles a folder I didn't notice before. It is black, embossed in a leathery texture. In gold lettering inscribed words I can't make out appear.
"Do you know what this is?"
"A folder," I say, wondering why he asked, or more exactly, why he is even showing me this.
"Oh no. This is not just any folder."
"This," he opens it, uncovering a secret to be shown.
"Is a very special folder."
"You see, , each applicant has his or her own folder, per say. You, my dear" I flinch at the word dear and he smiles slightly, having noticed my discomfort as his word of endearment.
"Are the first person ever to see this."
"Why am I showing you this, you might ask?" he taunts.
"Well I could be showing you this because you are a secretary and like to look at folders, which is certainly not true. I could also be showing you this because black folders are in fashion and you simply have to have one. This is also false."
"The real reason I am showing you this is because, Katniss," he again hisses my name.
"You need to be taught a lesson." The words vibrate through my mind, repeating and repeating.
"What lesson?" I ask, my voice slightly dry.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," he scolds.
A black and white paper is drawn out, crisp and fresh. I lean over; trying to read it, but 's hand touches my shoulder, pushing me back. I instinctively push it away.
"We can't be getting too close, now, can we?" Adjusting his position, he leans back, mulling over the paper. We sit in silence for a minute while I stare down at my shoes, waiting until something breaks the ice.
"Do you know whose name is on this, ?" The paper is in front of my nose now and I can clearly read the name.
"Mine," I answer.
"Yes. Yes, this is your name. Your own folder. Would you like to explain why you have a folder?"
"You said every applicant had one," I mumble.
"Hmm? I have poor hearing, what did you say?"
"You said every applicant had one."
As he lowers the paper, apparently pleased with my loud explanation, I see every record of me, from dental to school.
"I didn't give you these records."
"Then where did you get them?" I demand.
"Oh, I have my…connections," he again flashes that snarky smile.
"Where did you get them?" I repeat. If he has access to my records, then what else can he take? Does he have power over my family, Prim?
"It is none of your concern," he says dismissively.
"It is my concern!" I yell, standing up.
"Sit down please." I refuse. We stand, eyes locked and ablaze with internal fire.
"Sit down," he says through gritted teeth, barely controlling his anger. Realizing I have lost the fight, I unwillingly sit back down.
"Where were we again? The records, of course. It is nothing for you to worry about. I have no power over Prim." My eyes flash with recognition. How did he know what I was thinking merely moments before?
"I do know of your sister. It is a small town, no? Over the years I have become acquainted with nearly everyone in town."
"Not you. I had my reasons. Why would I dare approach the forbidden, exclusive Katniss?"
"You accepted me though," I point out.
"Ah, yes. I accepted you freely, with no persuasion."
"Then why did you accept?" I inquire. He pauses, tilting his head while always keeping contact with my eyes.
"You are treasured here, do you know that?"
"Treasured? I've been here for a few days. How can I be treasured?"
"You don't have to be here for a considerably long time to be treasured."
"You see, each employee brings something to the table, a talent to be used. For instance, Tom, my planner, has a clear mind and is an excellent employee. Always gets the job done on time, presents wonderful ideas." drifts off in thought.
"But you, you are something special."
"Yes, you. Hard workers are difficult to find."
"I'm a hard worker?" I question in disbelief. Sure I work, but does the title "hard worker" apply to me? It certainly hasn't been used before.
"You, unlike other employees, have someone to work for."
"That's not true," I say.
"But it is. Other workers, they work for their own benefit. Earn some money for themselves, get a bigger house, blah, blah, blah." rolls his eyes, almost as though they were the most hideous employees ever.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Oh now you're popping the big question. The reason I'm telling you all this is because," he brandishes the paper.
"I could do this." He tears the paper apart and stamps on it for good measure.
Seeing my expression, he says, "I have other ones." But I was not worried about the paper, no, not at all. A looming threat was placed upon my head, a threat that could threaten me and my family's life.
The joke's on him. Playkins is simply a back up, a support system. Even if I do lose this job, with Haymitch's money and the money from Savvy Shop, I could still support my family. That is, if Haymitch is still making money.
However, I pretend to be scared and intimidated.
Satisfied, he smiles his wicked smile and closes the folder.
"And that is why I brought you here, ."
"You may go now," he says, but I have already stood up.
As I open the door I let out a breath I was unaware I was holding. Only one thought is on my brain, a thought that never rests. It tells me over and over again. A new enemy has appeared.
For some odd reason, the uploader hates the name " " and " ". So I had to add in the names. Does anyone know why this happens? The uploader hates me and just deletes the names when try to I type them in. So if you see _, then it is not a typo. It is just this uploader. I have absolutely no idea how to fix this! Why don't you like my names, uploader?
I just love writing mean characters. _is so fun to write. He's the kind of character I would hate from the very beginning. Thank you for reading and, as always, feedback is appreciated. :)
Was this whole author's note confusing? I'm sorry.