03 - Laura 01 - The Probation
She spent yet another day sorting cans and putting them into baskets. It was hot in the Shelter, and loud, but there were worse ways tobe spending the day.
Of course, there were far better ways than *being stuck here on community service*.
Laura sighed audibly and grabbed the next basket, loading in the requisite supplies. Two soups, one beans, one bread loaf. Then pushed it further down the line for the next additions.
It could be worse. She could be back on actual linen duty, cleaning the shelter portion of the shelter, rather than providng food packages for the women who came through looking for help just with getting food, rather than full support.
She hated it here.
Not that the work wasn't needed, or fulfilling, or had an actually rewarding result. It was that she was FORCED to be here.
"Stupid Judge." She said softly to herself.
This was her third week of *600 hours* of service. She hated the fact that her asshole boyfriend had started everyting, and hated the fact that she'd ended up here for what she felt was defending herself.
But mostly, it was the fact that she was forced to be here.
"Hey Elle." Someone called out across the line. She had told those who needed to know her name was 'Elle', because she had always hated *Laura*. It was such a soft name, and her life had been harder than that."
"The Fuck you want?" She called back, annoyed and irritated.
"Boss wants to see you in her office. Wash up, get in there."
---
She finished washing her hands and tried to clean up her shirt as much as she could. She pulled her hair back and snapped a band around it, gathering the curls as she headed for the bosses office. She hadn't heard much about the owner of the Shelter, Karen Szarka was an older woman she'd been told, but never met her. Her induction had been handled by one of the other Girls who worked here. An obsessively cheerful girl by the name of Julie. Ugh. She had probably been a cheerleader or something.
She entered the office and took two steps forward.
The Boss, it seemed, was concentrating on something on her desk. Her head was down, the curious mix of deep-almost black red, shot through with a string of almost pure white. Scribbling notes with a pen, she hadn't reacted to Laura's entry at all.
Laura cleared her throat, and opened her mouth to say something - when all air seemed to escape her lungs and she choked. The Boss had put up her left hand in a 'stop' motion, and everything seemed to pause as she finished writing.
As she dropped the raised hand, Laura felt like she could suddenly inhale. had she held her breath the whole time? What the hell was that?
Slowly, the Boss' head came up. Almost a hawkish nose provided perch for a thin pair of glasses, and Laura felt the cold gaze peer over them, as if a stern librarian were regarding her - but more than that, someone who was actually determining if they were fit to stand in their presence.
"State your name, please."
"Elle-" she started to say, and the eyes seemed to narrow. She stammered "L-Laura. Laura Hastings."
"Well, Miss Hastings." The boss purred, shifting slightly in her chair, as if to regard her through a different part of her glasses. "Do you have any idea why I have asked you here today?"
"No Ma'am." She quickly responded. Definitely was going to have to be very proper with this older woman. Older, but damn, she didn't really look it. Yeah, there was some crows lines around the eyes, but she had this mix of energy, like she was a bookish schoolmarm, but at the same time, could languidly reach across the table and snap her neck... It was chilling.
"Tell me, Laura. Do you enjoy working here?" "Its not too-"
Her voice cut off as the pen in the bosses hand *Clicked* once. The sound echoing through the room, stifling all other sounds.
"Let me be very clear." The older woman said slowly. "I will not tolerage dishonesty from those who work for me. I will always expect, and respect, that if you answer a question I ask, the answer will be the truth. There is never punishment for the truth." She smiled a little. "Of course, if the truth is too uncomfortable, you may choose not to answer." The smile turned a little wry. "... but then of course, I am free to divine any answer I desire from the silence, without correction."
She slowly placed the pen down on the table before her. "So I ask you again. Do you enjoy working here?"
"No." She added flatly. "I wouldn't be here if I hadn't been ordered to be here. Like, I understand its important and all, but I just don't care for the people here. Everyone acts like its this great way to help, and like, I get it. But I just don't care. I have other things I want to be doing, but the law says otherwise, so I suck it up."
The boss... Seemed to smile *further* at that.
"So you have only a passing connection to the Women here? You do not feel as if they are deserving of the help and support that they are given?"
"I mean. I get it. A lot of them are genuinely having a bad time, and this sort of place is helping them and all. But I mean, a lot of them could do with a kick now and then as well. 'Course, kicking is why I'm here, so maybe I'm not the best of people to ask about it."
"Coincidentally, you are *exactly* the sort of person I wish to talk to." The boss said, as she slowly stood. Gracefully, she turned and walked behind Laura, audibly locking the door, before coming back around before her, and sitting on the desk in front of the young woman.
"You may speak freely with me now." The older lady said. "I will expect, however, that you will speak none of this to *anyone* outside of this room. Do you understand? You can either Agree to that term, or you can turn and leave now." She held up her hand to forstall any movement. "But I guarantee, if you hear me out, you will not regret it. In fact, if you listen, you will never have to return here unless it is your choice to."
"I... can live with that."
"Will you swear it?" The older woman said intently, as she pulled a little black book from under a piece of paper on the desk. She opened to a particular page, and held it out to Laura. The writing was weird on the left, but the right was just a symbol.
"What is this?"
"Will you swear it, Laura Hastings?"
"What the fuck is thi..."
"*Swear It*" The Older woman said, her voice deeper, with a curious echo. Laura almost couldn't hold her hand back from reaching out, and putting it on the book.
"I... I swear." She said, and felt a pain in her palm. She recoiled with a hiss, clutching it. She glanced at it, and could almost swear to see a small black mark seem to seep into her skin. Quickly looking back to the book, she saw the page that had the symbol was now blank in the half-second she had before the book closed.
"Very Good." She said and put the book down on the table.
"What the HELL was that?!" Laura said, still cradling her hand.
"Just ensuring you understand the gravity of the situation." She smiled. "Go on. *Think* about talking to someone about what just happened."
Laura looked at her and frowned, before doing so. She imagined talking to her parole officer about just how weird and fucked up this Karen woman was...
... and her hand started to itch. No, it was getting hot. The itch was a burn.. It was burning... Burning...
She bit her tongue to stop from screaming and looked accusingly at the older woman. As she bit her tongue, her thoughts turned instead to wanting to beat that smug face into the table, and just as suddenly as it started, the pain subsided.
"I need an assistant." The older woman said as she watched the reaction. "And to be frank, this is absolutely a once in a lifetime opportunity. Because this will be the only job you have for the rest of your life. You will do exactly what I say, without hesitation, without doubt, and if neccessary, without remorse."
"That's a steep ask." Laura managed to say through gritted teeth as she looked up. "In fact. Its completely crazy. I mean, how do you even set a price for something like that?"
"Oh, Financial Compensation is not the issue here. You would be paid enough to live rather extravagantly in the off periods where I do not have a direct need for you. But of course it would come with the caveat that you would drop everything the moment I called. And I am sure that I could find other... beneficial arrangements for you."
"Like what?"
"Like making that criminal record of yours disappear. Not just commuted. Completely expunged. As if it never happened in the first place. But make no mistake, if you accept this, there will be no going back. I may require some very unsavoury things, and there will be a period where you will have to open your eyes. But honestly. I think you have it in you to succeed. I would not have called you in here, if I did not see that spark."
"This is absolutely crazy. YOU are absolutely crazy, and what the hell did you do to my hand?!"
"Hmph. You do not believe me."
"Not at all."
"Okay then, a show of faith." She stood up and moved back behind the desk, glancing at a pile of papers to the side. "It is Friday, and the Roster says you are not scheduled to be back here until the Afternoon on Tuesday." The older woman said, running a nailed finger across it. "On Monday, call your parole officer." The woman put her elbows on the table, and leaned on her hands, smiling above them. "If I am true to my word, then I *will* see you on Tuesday. And it will be of your own choosing."
"What do you?"
"Until then," She flicked her hand, and honest to god, Laura heard the door UNLOCK behind her. "Talk to no one else about this. And I will see you on Tuesday..." She smiled wickedly. "Or maybe not. That is going to be the fun part after all."
"... Right." Laura said, and turned slowly towards the door. Eager to get out of the office as quickly as she could.
Of course, there were far better ways than *being stuck here on community service*.
Laura sighed audibly and grabbed the next basket, loading in the requisite supplies. Two soups, one beans, one bread loaf. Then pushed it further down the line for the next additions.
It could be worse. She could be back on actual linen duty, cleaning the shelter portion of the shelter, rather than providng food packages for the women who came through looking for help just with getting food, rather than full support.
She hated it here.
Not that the work wasn't needed, or fulfilling, or had an actually rewarding result. It was that she was FORCED to be here.
"Stupid Judge." She said softly to herself.
This was her third week of *600 hours* of service. She hated the fact that her asshole boyfriend had started everyting, and hated the fact that she'd ended up here for what she felt was defending herself.
But mostly, it was the fact that she was forced to be here.
"Hey Elle." Someone called out across the line. She had told those who needed to know her name was 'Elle', because she had always hated *Laura*. It was such a soft name, and her life had been harder than that."
"The Fuck you want?" She called back, annoyed and irritated.
"Boss wants to see you in her office. Wash up, get in there."
---
She finished washing her hands and tried to clean up her shirt as much as she could. She pulled her hair back and snapped a band around it, gathering the curls as she headed for the bosses office. She hadn't heard much about the owner of the Shelter, Karen Szarka was an older woman she'd been told, but never met her. Her induction had been handled by one of the other Girls who worked here. An obsessively cheerful girl by the name of Julie. Ugh. She had probably been a cheerleader or something.
She entered the office and took two steps forward.
The Boss, it seemed, was concentrating on something on her desk. Her head was down, the curious mix of deep-almost black red, shot through with a string of almost pure white. Scribbling notes with a pen, she hadn't reacted to Laura's entry at all.
Laura cleared her throat, and opened her mouth to say something - when all air seemed to escape her lungs and she choked. The Boss had put up her left hand in a 'stop' motion, and everything seemed to pause as she finished writing.
As she dropped the raised hand, Laura felt like she could suddenly inhale. had she held her breath the whole time? What the hell was that?
Slowly, the Boss' head came up. Almost a hawkish nose provided perch for a thin pair of glasses, and Laura felt the cold gaze peer over them, as if a stern librarian were regarding her - but more than that, someone who was actually determining if they were fit to stand in their presence.
"State your name, please."
"Elle-" she started to say, and the eyes seemed to narrow. She stammered "L-Laura. Laura Hastings."
"Well, Miss Hastings." The boss purred, shifting slightly in her chair, as if to regard her through a different part of her glasses. "Do you have any idea why I have asked you here today?"
"No Ma'am." She quickly responded. Definitely was going to have to be very proper with this older woman. Older, but damn, she didn't really look it. Yeah, there was some crows lines around the eyes, but she had this mix of energy, like she was a bookish schoolmarm, but at the same time, could languidly reach across the table and snap her neck... It was chilling.
"Tell me, Laura. Do you enjoy working here?" "Its not too-"
Her voice cut off as the pen in the bosses hand *Clicked* once. The sound echoing through the room, stifling all other sounds.
"Let me be very clear." The older woman said slowly. "I will not tolerage dishonesty from those who work for me. I will always expect, and respect, that if you answer a question I ask, the answer will be the truth. There is never punishment for the truth." She smiled a little. "Of course, if the truth is too uncomfortable, you may choose not to answer." The smile turned a little wry. "... but then of course, I am free to divine any answer I desire from the silence, without correction."
She slowly placed the pen down on the table before her. "So I ask you again. Do you enjoy working here?"
"No." She added flatly. "I wouldn't be here if I hadn't been ordered to be here. Like, I understand its important and all, but I just don't care for the people here. Everyone acts like its this great way to help, and like, I get it. But I just don't care. I have other things I want to be doing, but the law says otherwise, so I suck it up."
The boss... Seemed to smile *further* at that.
"So you have only a passing connection to the Women here? You do not feel as if they are deserving of the help and support that they are given?"
"I mean. I get it. A lot of them are genuinely having a bad time, and this sort of place is helping them and all. But I mean, a lot of them could do with a kick now and then as well. 'Course, kicking is why I'm here, so maybe I'm not the best of people to ask about it."
"Coincidentally, you are *exactly* the sort of person I wish to talk to." The boss said, as she slowly stood. Gracefully, she turned and walked behind Laura, audibly locking the door, before coming back around before her, and sitting on the desk in front of the young woman.
"You may speak freely with me now." The older lady said. "I will expect, however, that you will speak none of this to *anyone* outside of this room. Do you understand? You can either Agree to that term, or you can turn and leave now." She held up her hand to forstall any movement. "But I guarantee, if you hear me out, you will not regret it. In fact, if you listen, you will never have to return here unless it is your choice to."
"I... can live with that."
"Will you swear it?" The older woman said intently, as she pulled a little black book from under a piece of paper on the desk. She opened to a particular page, and held it out to Laura. The writing was weird on the left, but the right was just a symbol.
"What is this?"
"Will you swear it, Laura Hastings?"
"What the fuck is thi..."
"*Swear It*" The Older woman said, her voice deeper, with a curious echo. Laura almost couldn't hold her hand back from reaching out, and putting it on the book.
"I... I swear." She said, and felt a pain in her palm. She recoiled with a hiss, clutching it. She glanced at it, and could almost swear to see a small black mark seem to seep into her skin. Quickly looking back to the book, she saw the page that had the symbol was now blank in the half-second she had before the book closed.
"Very Good." She said and put the book down on the table.
"What the HELL was that?!" Laura said, still cradling her hand.
"Just ensuring you understand the gravity of the situation." She smiled. "Go on. *Think* about talking to someone about what just happened."
Laura looked at her and frowned, before doing so. She imagined talking to her parole officer about just how weird and fucked up this Karen woman was...
... and her hand started to itch. No, it was getting hot. The itch was a burn.. It was burning... Burning...
She bit her tongue to stop from screaming and looked accusingly at the older woman. As she bit her tongue, her thoughts turned instead to wanting to beat that smug face into the table, and just as suddenly as it started, the pain subsided.
"I need an assistant." The older woman said as she watched the reaction. "And to be frank, this is absolutely a once in a lifetime opportunity. Because this will be the only job you have for the rest of your life. You will do exactly what I say, without hesitation, without doubt, and if neccessary, without remorse."
"That's a steep ask." Laura managed to say through gritted teeth as she looked up. "In fact. Its completely crazy. I mean, how do you even set a price for something like that?"
"Oh, Financial Compensation is not the issue here. You would be paid enough to live rather extravagantly in the off periods where I do not have a direct need for you. But of course it would come with the caveat that you would drop everything the moment I called. And I am sure that I could find other... beneficial arrangements for you."
"Like what?"
"Like making that criminal record of yours disappear. Not just commuted. Completely expunged. As if it never happened in the first place. But make no mistake, if you accept this, there will be no going back. I may require some very unsavoury things, and there will be a period where you will have to open your eyes. But honestly. I think you have it in you to succeed. I would not have called you in here, if I did not see that spark."
"This is absolutely crazy. YOU are absolutely crazy, and what the hell did you do to my hand?!"
"Hmph. You do not believe me."
"Not at all."
"Okay then, a show of faith." She stood up and moved back behind the desk, glancing at a pile of papers to the side. "It is Friday, and the Roster says you are not scheduled to be back here until the Afternoon on Tuesday." The older woman said, running a nailed finger across it. "On Monday, call your parole officer." The woman put her elbows on the table, and leaned on her hands, smiling above them. "If I am true to my word, then I *will* see you on Tuesday. And it will be of your own choosing."
"What do you?"
"Until then," She flicked her hand, and honest to god, Laura heard the door UNLOCK behind her. "Talk to no one else about this. And I will see you on Tuesday..." She smiled wickedly. "Or maybe not. That is going to be the fun part after all."
"... Right." Laura said, and turned slowly towards the door. Eager to get out of the office as quickly as she could.
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