NOVEL WEB Consultation 148.2.
Consultation 148.2.
The next day I returned to my office and glared at the door with squinted eyes. There was no way she’d really been in there yesterday, and even if she had been in there yesterday there was no way she stayed there for a full day, right?
Despite those being my thoughts, I still had serious doubts, as such, I turned tail and ran away again.
Two more days passed and I had the same dilemma the entire time. I couldn’t be certain how long Author would really wait in the event she’d really been inside my office three days ago. But surely… after three full days, she couldn’t possibly be in there waiting for me, right?
I at least had to see if the doorknob turned this time.
I carefully extended my arm out and grasped onto the doorknob before I ever so slightly turned it. As expected, it wasn’t locked. I gulped as a bead of sweat slid down my cheek.
It was true, I could really return to work at long last. But the question still remained… was she inside?
In the end, I gave up on opening the door and I decided to give it another day.
Day four.
I had the knob turned all the way this time. I slowly cracked it open without making a single sound. I held my breath, closed my right eye, and peeked through the crack with my squinted left eye.
When I saw the inside of my office after a long two months I froze. I could just barely discern a dark red-haired figure seated in a chair with their back toward me. She had a gloomy aura around her like she was depressed about something. Has she been like this all this time?
Not letting out a single breath, I slowly shut the door, backed away from it. I turned, left, and acted as if I hadn’t seen anything. It looked like a pain in the ass I didn’t want to touch.
“Damn. It’s a real shame the door is still locked. Haha.” I whispered out loud and let out a dry laugh.
Day five. She was still there in the exact same state.
Day six. I stayed a bit longer and watched her back as there had been a major change from the day before. Her shoulders were shaking. She was laughing to herself diabolically, seated, with her eyes glued to the desk in front of her. It was scary. Was she laughing about how she’d murder me for keeping her waiting so long?
I sure as hell wouldn’t enter that room anytime soon. Not until she settled down.
Every day up until day thirteen there had been no major change. She still had her eyes glued to the table and occasionally burst out into maniacal laughter. What the hell was wrong with Author? Was she really that broken and defective?
I wanted to know the answer, but I didn’t dare step into the room by this point in time, fearful of the repercussions.
Today was day fourteen of my stakeout. There was finally a change. Her hands were on the desk. It looked like she was busying herself with something. Perhaps she was writing up how she would torture me to death with clients in the near future. Oh god, no. Please, someone, save me from that dreadful fate.
I had my three wives supporting me financially at the moment as a lazy, effectively, unemployed bum. As such, I could hold out for a bit longer until whatever had possessed Author passed.
Two weeks passed by as I lost hope I’d ever be able to re-enter my office in peace without having to deal with this menace of an existence, it was now day twenty-eight of this long stakeout. Every day had been the same without change. However, today there was a big difference. Author was standing on her feet pacing back and forth looking like she’d completed her plot.
I concluded her nefarious plot would surely kick off soon. I immediately fled for my life that day, terrified I’d finally be targeted by her.
I was paranoid. I didn’t want any more wives. Absolutely not. Three was my utmost limit. Please, Author, just cut me some slack. You have no idea what it’s like when I get home every day. I’m not given a single break. I’m treated like some sort of toy. My wives are scary, they don’t get along at all. The third wife is domineering as hell. When confronted by such a powerful foe, my other two wives put aside their differences and formed an alliance against her. They’re like fire and ice, they just don’t mix, Author.
Before you mess with me, at the very least, fix my life at home first damn it! In a way, work used to be an escape for me, but with Author still inside, I didn’t dare return. Maybe if I hadn’t been stubborn and just opened up the door on day one I wouldn’t have had all this stupid anxiety build up.
Day twenty-nine of my stakeout, Author returned to her seated posture. She was back at it again? What the hell? Was what you concocted not enough? You weren’t satisfied with what you came up with and wanted to craft an even more insidious plot?
Terrifying. Author’s pettiness was boundless and knew of no limits.
Day thirty-eight, nine days later, she again stood on her feet, but it looked like she was contemplating something seriously. I had no idea what it was. Had she finished her plot again but didn’t feel fully satisfied with it?
I didn’t stick around to find out.
Day thirty-nine she’d returned to her seated position.
It was only on day forty-five I was granted freedom. The menace was gone! She wasn’t in the room anymore. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I rubbed them to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.
But I wouldn’t let my guard down though, it could be part of her evil ploy. I shut the door and pretended I’d left. I waited to make sure she hadn’t been hidden inside somewhere lying in ambush.
This was surely the day. Surely.
Nobody exited the room while I waited so I cracked open the door again and peeked inside one more time. She still wasn’t there.
I still wasn’t convinced though. I turned on my phone’s camera and used it to check the left and right corners of the room.
She wasn’t there. She truly wasn’t there! I’d done it! I’d outlasted that terrible Author in our forty-five-day-long game of chicken.
I opened up the door and walked inside the room. I looked around the room just to be sure.
She wasn’t here. I breathed out a long sigh of relief.
All my fears and worries drained away like nothing.
I walked over to my desk and turned around.
The instant I did so… I froze.
Why did I freeze? Was there something on my desk?
Was Author by my desk?
No… she wasn’t by my desk.
Rather… directly above the door frame, glued to the wall and ceiling like some sort of freaky spider monkey, there was a certain someone with an insidious cocky expression on their face.
‘Gotcha bitch.’
That was what the awful lopsided grin on her face and look in her squinted eyes told me.
I collapsed onto my chair, terrified. Just what awful plot did she have in store for me?
