"What do you mean I'm 'writing for the sports page'?" the brunette questioned, raising her voice to well above room level. She had been working and pushing her way to be able to cover her own column for months now, and all of the sudden they expect her to write a sports piece? "This is absurd!"
"Please, Eddina honey, lower your voice," her dark haired boss hissed. He roughly grabbed Eddina's forearm and drug her into his office, closing the door loudly behind her. A few of the other employees peered cautiously over their cubicle walls. He slid the blinds shut.
Eddina stood, back ridged and arms crossed in the center of his nicotine stained office. Her boss, Martin, slithered into the oversized chair behind his desk. "Please, darling, take a seat," he crooned. A sneer of disgust flitted across Eddina's features, wrinkling her button nose and her brow. "As if I would ever lower myself to sit in one of these dingy things. They look unsuitable for any kind of resting place." Her normally soft blue eyes took on a steely hue. "Lets get right to the point, Martin," she spat out his name distastefully, "Please, do explain why I, a Yale journalism student with a spotless GPA and shining recommendations from all, repeat, all, of my superiors, is writing an article for the sports page. I mean, really Martin? What is it exactly that you were thinking? Do you recall your previous promise of granting me my own column? Or does all that nicotine reside in the hippocampus section of your brain instead of your lungs?"
Martin sat back in is chair and barked out a laugh, exposing his yellowed teeth. He pushed a hand through his greasy navy blue hair and picked a cigarette from his pocket. "Now listen here, sweetheart," his dark eyes narrowed to slits as he looked at the defiant brunette, "I am the boss man here, got it? I am the one that decides who writes what, who leaves and who stays in this facility." He lit the cigarette and took a long drag, "Do you really think you'd get anywhere in this business being a little goody-two-shoes smart ass? Do you really think I care what an intern has to say?" the smoke coiled into the air when he spoke. Eddina glared icily at him. "The only reason you've gotten this far, little darling, is because," he smirked, "I like you." Eddina fought to hold back the bile that rose in her throat. "You're disgusting," she hissed, full of malice. Marvin laughed again, but this time, it held no amusement. He rose from his chair, smoothing out his coffee stained gray shirt and vomit green jacket as he walked toward Eddina.
The room suddenly became claustrophobic, everything too large and too close. Eddina stood stock still, feeling her heart beat quicken, a feeling of dread crawling down her spine. Her brain was sending panic signals through out her body. Her hands began to shake as he got closer and closer still. "Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic," she repeated in her head. "The predator will know it is in control if it senses fear." Martin smiled devilishly and leaned against the rickety old chair next to Eddina. She recoiled slightly, but kept her demeanor solid.
"Why cant you just act like the good little girl you're meant to be?" Martin's eyes devoured her, looking her up and down, lingering on the hem of her skirt and the pendant on her chest. Eddina resisted the screaming urge to pull her black skirt lower and placed her hands on her hips. He licked his lips. "I could have you fired for this," She responded coolly. " I wonder how many other interns had to endure this sickening display of sexual harassment? I wonder how long it would take to pull up and entire lawsuit and sue you and your company for everything its got?" she cast a threatening look upon Martin, his jaw clenching, face beginning to redden.
He took a quick puff of his cigarette and stood abruptly. "You little bitch. You wouldn't dare," a vein pulsed on his forehead. Eddina chuckled, smiling a gap toothed grin, "Oh, wouldn't I?"
Martin growled, dropping the cigarette from his mouth. His hand quickly flew up to grasp Eddina's throat, her back slamming violently against the wall, framed certificates shaking from the force. Eddina gasped, her mind reeling. The pressure of his hand was making her rise on the wall, her feet no longer touched the ground. Her eyes filled with tears "P-please," she gaped, her black nailed hands trying to pry off his claw.
Martin's lips grazed Eddina's ear, the stubble from his unshaven, unclean face scraping her skin, "You will either write the article and earn your way to the top, or you can pay the fare a- different- way." Eddina's mouth was gaping, her vision was beginning to go black. Darkness creeping into her peripherals. A wet hot tongue crept up the side of her face, accompanied by the stench of nicotine. "Think, think- where are men the weakest?" The weakest... Eddina had tears running down her face, but she pulled together what strength she had left to ram a knee into Martin's groin.
Suddenly the pressure left her throat, and the floor came rushing towards her. Martin cursed profusely under his breath as Eddina came crashing down to the floor. She stood hesitantly, placing a hand on her tender neck. Martin was groaned, still folded over from the impact of her knee.
"If you turn me in, you will never, and I mean never write again. Not for anyone. No magazine, no paper, no website, no one. I'll make sure of it," groaned Martin, "I will ruin you." "No," thought Eddina, "writing is all I have, damn it." She knew his words echoed with truth. The choice was hers to make, either turn him in and risk never writing again, or write the article and let him lay low. She hated the next words she spoke. "I- I'll write it," choked out Eddina, tears stung her eyes and she wiped them from her cheeks.
"I'll write it."