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cancerbiophd · 4 years

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How I landed an industry job straight out of my life sciences PhD, without doing a post-doc

In less than 7 weeks I’ll be defending my dissertation as a final step in my PhD in Cancer Biology, and yesterday I accepted a Scientist position at a local biotechnology company. And best part: I didn’t have to do the dreaded post-doc first! Which is pretty rare for our field (but I hope it’ll be more and more common for PhD’s going into industry).

I promised I would talk about the process here, and I hope that anyone who’s aiming for the same path can walk away with some tips or at least with a familiarity of the process.

The main points I want to get across:

Network network network. You can probably just stop reading here, because this job came about all through networking. I was basically head-hunted--someone in my network (a program alumnus) contacted me on LinkedIn to ask if I wanted to apply for a position on the team she directs. So set up your LinkedIn account, keep it up to date, and use it to actively network. At the very least you should connect with the alumni in your program as you all have something in common already, and since they’re out and about in the field they would be great resources for informational interviews and job referrals.

My expertise and career goals matched the position. No brainer, of course. Even if I wasn’t contacted by the company, I would only be applying to companies I qualified for (so companies dealing with cancer since I’m my PhD is in Cancer Bio). My lab mate, for example, was finishing up his PhD in Nutritional Sciences but was applying to cancer companies with no result, because it just wasn’t the candidate those companies were looking for. My expertise was also probably what got that director’s attention in the first place and the reason she reached out. She was basically willing to wait 7 months for me (from job posting to my final start-date) because I was her ideal candidate, and not just based off my expertise alone, but our personalities matched too. She told me “we communicate well” aka our work personalities match. I know you can’t change who you are obviously, but getting along with your manager goes a long way.

That being said, employers/PIs are flexible with start dates for PhD candidates. I applied to this position 6 months before I had my defense date set and when I only knew a ballpark of “sometime in the summer”. And then during my interview process I had to keep pushing that potential start-date back and back and back. But the company understood this. So as a PhD candidate you could start applying 6 months before your expected end-date (even if it’s still a moving target), or even months earlier for post-docs (which are much more flexible than industry positions). In general, you should start looking 1 year before your finish date to see what’s out there.

It was also good luck/timing. If I had graduated earlier than the job posting, then I never would’ve had this opportunity. I also only added her to my LinkedIn network because I went to a lunch seminar where she gave a talk about working in industry. So small things that ultimately made a huge difference. Some you can’t control, but some (like going to that lunch) are definitely opportunities to seize.

I was low “flight risk”. Companies are always afraid their employees will leave the company/city for greener pastures, and that’s more common in “less popular” places to live, like the southwest desert where I’m located. But I’m from here, my grad school is here, my family’s here--so the company is making the assumption I’m not going to just up and go any time soon. You obviously can’t control where your family chooses to settle down, but you may be able to strategically choose your grad school based off of its proximity to potential companies.

And lastly, in my experience, PhD’s with no post-doc in biotech industry should expect an annual salary somewhere between $75-95k (depending on the company and cost of living), with benefits.

Ok, my full story under cut if you’d like to know more about the process I went through:

It all started when a program alumnus (or alumna, if you’re picky about your latin) named RF talked at a lunch seminar to students in my program in Feb 2019. I was really interested in her company and knew she would be a great network to have, so I emailed her later to thank her, and then added her on LinkedIn.

Fast forward to January of this year (2020) when RF messaged me on LinkedIn out of the blue asking me how close I was to graduating and if I would be interested in a position at her company. I think she wanted someone asap (so not me, I thought), but we talked more about my project, and she said she’d keep in touch. In February, she messaged me again saying a position opened up on her team and she wanted to see if I would like to apply. I said heck yes (or the more formal version), and sent in my application, with the expectation that I would be defending sometime in the summer. I also put her as my job referral and messaged her afterwards to let her know my application went through (with the hopes that maybe she could fast-track it through HR, which I think she did).

In the meantime, I messaged (also on LinkedIn) another program alumnus I knew (our time overlapped a few years) who currently works with RF and we chatted on the phone about what he does at work, how he likes it there, etc. Basically an informational interview (and also to catch up as colleagues). I was also hoping he’d put in a good word for me with RF and can attest I’m a decent human being and all that.

2 weeks later, I had a phone interview with RF, and I was super nervous going into it. I even practiced pages and pages of answers of common interview questions for a week straight. But to my surprise she opened the call with “I already know a lot about you from your CV, LinkedIn profile, and also your PhD training because we’re from the same program, so this is your chance to ask me questions!” And I was like, uhhhh awesome! The only thing she wanted to know about me was when I could start, and at that moment in time I was gunning for a July/Aug defense date.

(I also emailed her and HR afterwards to ask them whether they could match my salary expectation, which I had researched well beforehand for what was common in the field for my position and experience, and they said they could.)

We then set up the next round of interviews for April with a colleague of RF’s who used to be in the same team but now directs her own, and RF’s boss (these would have normally been on-site, but I did them over the phone bc Covid). I again messaged my friend at the company asking if he had any tips.

And then disaster struck! The company’s HR called me a week before those scheduled interviews to tell me the company had ordered a hiring freeze due to Covid and the effect it was having on the economy. Absolute bummer :( :( :(

So I then applied for a few more positions here and there, including some post-docs (which I really didn’t want to do). I got 2 rounds of interviews for a Scientist position at another local company, and as of today I still haven’t heard anything from them. oh well.

Then in June I finally heard back from RF’s company saying the hiring freeze has been lifted and whether I’m still interested? Uh, heck yes! So we continued with those 2 phone interviews I had originally scheduled back in April. They both went really well. But I still continued to apply to other positions in the meantime because I wanted to have as many options as I could.

Then 2 weeks ago (July 7) I got THE call: they wanted to offer me the position! :D

Only problem was, we needed to settle on a start-date. They of course wanted me to start like, yesterday, but my PI wanted to push back my original defense date of Aug 28 one more week to Sept 4, and also wanted me to focus on any dissertation edits for 2 weeks after that. So my earliest start-date would be Sept 21. If you remember, my defense date shifted from “sometime in the summer” to “July/August” to now September, so I was really worried the company wouldn’t accept this. I nervously waited 2 weeks for someone to call me back, and in my head I kept thinking, “I blew it I blew it”. I even sent in a job application to another company in that time.

But RF finally called me and said hey, no problem, we can do that! She told me she was willing to wait because I really was her perfect candidate (I had all the experience she wanted, and she said we communicated well aka our work-personalities matched). She had also just recently hired another graduate from our program, who is also a friend of mine, so she knew we would all mesh together very nicely.

And that’s the story folks! I’ll be starting the position remotely until it’s safe to return to the building again. They’re also working with my husband to see if he’s a good candidate for some of their other open positions (we’re both in the biotech field). We’re both super excited about this new chapter in our lives.

All this because I attended the lunch seminar RF talked at all last year and then added her on LinkedIn. When people talk about opportunities lurking behind every corner, they really did mean that.

#job advice #gradblr #sciblr #m

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sailing-elitsha · 3 years

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WE DID IT!!!!!!!!

Our first ocean crossing is a fact!!

The last miles were draining. Running with constantly changing winds, crossing waves and without spinnaker is not funny. I was not seasick this time, but caught an ear infection, which I thought will be okay after a while, because I got antibiotic from Doctor Josephine in St Helena for my leg infection. Without consulting a doc in St Helena again, we left. The crossing waves and light wind made me nauseous because my ear was blocked. The night watches drained but the spirit of the crew, Dick and I, maintained unbroken positive and happy. We caught a tuna and a barracuda. The swordfish, when we finally had him close to Elitsha, went back to the sea. The line broke and he is now the coolest fish in the South Atlantic with a hip piercing on his sword nose. The barracuda, I caught on my watch. Dick was sleeping and I got him close, which was not easy, but then I saw his teeth, I knew, this I won’t do on my own. Together we got him in. Even though I was not feeling well, I baked several breads, cooked tuna curry, and did my watches. Dick took the more difficult watches and let me sleep a little bit longer each night. I rest much more then he did. So, you can imagine, we both looked forward to having a good sleep after arriving in Fernando. Bob the aircraft engineer was close to us, but they wanted to continue their way to the Caribbean straight forward. Going ashore in Fernando de Noronha was not allowed, so all Yachties skip the island. We were hoping on getting water and to be allowed to just sleep 3 nights at the anchorage and continue sailing afterwards.

Immensely proud and happy on Friday the 30th of April at 5 am after having sailed 1812 nautical miles we arrived at Fernando de Noronha, a small Island and Nature Reserve at the Brazilian Coast. Dick and I were both a bit emotional: WE DID IT!!!!!! Its always special to arrive after a long sail. First you hear and see birds, then lights, then the shape of land, then you smell something different……… But this time is was special special. We arrived at the other side of a very very big and deep (4000+ m deep) ocean.

40 meters of anchor chain and we lay in front of a beautiful beach in a beautiful bay. This Island is a Nature Reserve and so so beautiful. We were the only yachties. Nobody is allowed to enter the island from sea. we could smell the cocktails, but were nut allowed to grab them.....made our owns though....Due to humanitarian reasons they have to allow us to buy fresh supplies and water, which we needed to continue the rest of our voyage. After we arrived, our yellow Checkers cloth and the Brazilian flag went up the mast. Nothing happened. Dick was swimming with zebrafish and sharks in the meantime. After half a day waiting and asking harbour control again and again on the radio we finally got an answer. At 3 o clock we got picked up and the harbour master welcomed us together with the police. The police would escort us to the shops and the next day we have to leave. Zora pictured out a scenario of Dick and I in handcuffs in de shops grabbing 5 l canisters of water and apples under supervision of the police officers, when we told her. (There is a photo of Alex, the police officer, faking to arrest Dick. That photo was especially taken for Zora.)

But it went differently. We were very fortunate to meet Alex, a Brazilian federal policeman from Brasilia, the only English-speaking person on this island. They all try google translate, but internet is a crime here. So Alex was the solution. He told us that the extra days of sleep could only been allowed if I would get a doctor’s attest and then he drove with us to the hospital, translated, then to the Pharmacia, then to the harbour again to explain that I was even sicker than I thought, and the doctor wants to see me every day till Monday. He and his colleagues wrote reports, spoke to their boss, to make it happen for us to stay longer. This way we not only were allowed to stay 3 nights, but we were also allowed to explore the island. The police brought our 60 l water and fresh supplies to the boat and gave us very valuable tips for sightseeing, bus routes, the best bars and best meals of the islands: platter federale ( a seafood food platter the chef always creates for the federal police men and Caipirinha pinto. They gave us a branche with well 12 coconuts on it. Uii, lekker. We ate a special bean soup with quail eggs…….. Alex was and still is our hero and became a friend. We had a very special time at Fernando de Noronha. Again, everybody knew us, helped and was friendly.

Traveling during Corona is not easy, but at the same time very special. People are happy with every single tourist; it is not full and overcrowded. Covid in Brazil is hectic. In Fernando they have not one case. Its so normal to sanitize and wear masks. Fortunately, we will not get a Brazilian stamp in our passport, which is good. This stamp could close some borders for us. So, we visited a little piece of Brazil, met a lot of Brazilians from Brasilia, Sao Paulo, Recife and other Brazilian Cities, and got information and a little bit of insights in the culture.

We ate delicious Brazilian food, but officially we have never been in Brazil. How is that?Traveling in the Caribbean with a South African flag is a problem we were told, because of the racist history. That was one of the reasons why we choose a German registration. But sailing with a German flag in Brazil was also a thingy: 7:1, the water taxi captain said when he saw the black/red/gold. I apologized and promised, that we (the Germans) would never beat them (soccer WC 2014) again in a semi-final in their own country with 7:1. That was good, then.

Even though it was great and relaxing. It was quite expensive to stay on an Eco Island. For 3 days we paid 200 dollars. When we wanted to go to a beach at the other end of the island today, they wanted us to pay another 100 dollars (a 9 day valid ticket for three beaches). We rather went back to the for-free-harbour-beach with the bus again and saw turtles, lemon sharks and a lot of other beautiful fish. Wrong!!! Dick saw them. I am not allowed to snorkel. Grrrrrr. My ears!!!! So, we didn’t need a 100-dollar beach. From here we could even see Elitsha waving towards us.

From Elitsha we see dolphins around us spinning in the morning, zebra fish all around and the trumpet fish from St. Helena followed us to Fernando.

Our last water taxi was a luxe motor yacht with fancy leather seating. Dick and I felt like Crockett and Tubbs in Miami Vice. So funny.

Last evening at Fernando. Tomorrow we lift our anchor and off we go again. The doldrums are waiting for us and then the north east trades to lift us to Suriname. Can’t wait to explore the rainbow forest that side.

A big thank you to our shore captains, Anneke, Zora and Holger, who make harbour arrangements for us, inform us about the weather and much more; to Wiek, our fishing coach, for telling us afterwards what we caught and have eaten, hahaha and to all our friends and supporters who react and encourage us all the way of our journey. Its fantastic to be in touch with you.

Believe us, we enjoy every single second and moment of our journey with each other and are so so glad and happy that we are doing this with the two of us. Don’t forget to donate for the nautical miles we are sailing.

Lots of loveDick, Sylke and Elitsha

Questions for the Elitsha competition:

1. What is the capital of Brazil?

2. Where is Fernando de Noronha?

3. What is a sea mountain?

4. What kind of shark, did my husband dive with?

5. How does a trumpet fish look like? (and don’t tell me: like a trumpet, hahaha. I want to see a photo.)

All participants will receive a price!!!!!!!

For the ones who want to take part in our sponsor sail: We have sailed 1812 nautical miles. You can donate a cent, a Rand, a Euro or whatever per nautical mile. We are sailing for these amazing schools: every nautical mile and each Rand counts. To UBUNTU for Africa, German NGO. The money will go to the UBUNTU for Africa projects: after care at Hout Bay Primary School and the music project at Silikamva High School. This organisation I started 12 years ago (www.ubuntuforafrica.com) Of course, you will receive a tax certificate.

Ubuntu for Africa-Kinder-, Jugend und Familienhilfe in Südafrika Volksbank Boenen e G IBAN: DE91 4106 2215 0054 5799 01

For South Africans and others, who want to donate directly to South Africa (also with tax certificate): please donate to Kronendal Primary School (www.kronendalprimary.com). I worked for 10 years at Kronendal Primary as a school counsellor. This school struggles financially due to the consequences of the Covid Pandemic and deserves our support. KRONENDAL PRIMARY SCHOOL trading as CUIM (“the account holder”) holds the following account with First National Bank, a division of FirstRand Bank Limited (“FNB”): Account Type BUSINESS ACCOUNT Account Number 53452884035 Branch Code 204009 Branch Name HOUT BAY 345 Swift Code FIRNZAJJ WE DID IT

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maiolica-admirer · 3 years

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✈️?

Things mentioned in this drabble are direct references to @strickjagger and stuff from last April which is a horrifying amount of time ago.

✈ - An eye-opening memory

Yesterday had been surprisingly exciting in ways that didn’t involve anybody suffering bodily harm which was rather refreshing given the events of previous months, after all who could say no to kicking a door in and giving your former superior a heart attack without a single sword being drawn? She certainly would not and it felt like a just reward earned after everything particularly with the shriek, oh now that is something she will be treasuring for a very long time like a party trick waiting for it’s prime moment to be brought out. With part one of her self-declared mission now completed, the next step was dragging his sorry ass back to Arcadia where he can do something more useful than moping around for weeks on end poking around Facebook for his lost lady love akin to a widow and dumped teenager rolled into one wretched mess of depression. The display was utterly revolting and truly she was doing both him and the world at large a grand favour here by intervening.

At first there were a few delays before anything could get moving partly because she decided before anything was settled on he had to go get himself scrubbed up and free of his stubbly wares while she would abuse the opportunity to enjoy the quaint scenery with a spot of tea in peace. A standard had been set after all having made sure to freshen up a bit with proper food, a shower, clean clothes and enough make up to hide the wretched state that was her condition underneath so quite frankly he should have the basic decency to do the same before setting foot outside. Of course there was a bit of enjoyment at bossing him around like this and with being unlikely to get an opportunity she would never get again, well why not? The next hold up was the particulars of transportation which needed to both balance getting there the fastest while remaining lighter on the wallet thanks to limited funds. These are narrowed down to a road trip causing dramatic groan at the idea of having to spend hours in his company while in close confines for an extended period just to make very clear her dislike at the idea. After that all that was left to do was getting hold of a suitable car that could be conveniently ditched afterwards without giving any wrong ideas to any who found it. She only got more annoyed when her suggestion of hotwiring something was shot down and ceremoniously flipped him off out of petty spite.

With supplies belatedly gathered, coffee to go, something to drive that was a disgusting aqua coloured thing and through flagrant complaining about her (Formerly) broken fetlock they came to a deal that he would take the day shifts and her the nights. There was some gleeful snarking about his habit of vehicles and cliffs which earned a look over the steering wheel and she merely grinned right back while toasting with the disposable cup. So it went on like that with loose banter fired between about innocent topics, a slightly annotated version of recent events now there was no risk of being heard, some reminiscing of older times interspersed with more than a few choice words for bad driving by other parties. The white lines are not optional you idiotic fleshbags stay in your damn lane!

On day two by midday it featured a rather bored Nomura which a very dangerous prospect because basic decency and social decorum tends to go out the window if she has no way to vent her frustrations and had lost interest in talking for the time. The silence becomes a rather ominous thing for the driver who has acquired a crease in his brow because if she is not resting, certain from how she keeps grumbling something, it means she must be plotting something and it is quickly confirmed when there is the unmistakable feeling of the closest pocket being rummaged in.

“Do you mind?” He utters taking his eye off the road a second to glare.

“Not at all,” is the innocent answer while she sits comfortably back in her seat with her prize swiftly being broken into with a few taps because pin codes mean nothing. Getting an annoyed scoff back, he knows trying to take it back will only make it more tempting to hoard thus he is left only to secretly hope she will only stick to the photos and video collection and not find anything potentially compromising or worse, blackmail material.

For a time at least his passenger in question seems content enough to only poke around at what could fall under the first category from how the expressions vary from smirks to mildly grossed out (Not hard to guess what the cause was there) to an aww and even the sound of pure mocking laughter which was something to be grateful for even if there is little doubt she is sending a few to herself to enjoy later. Sadly, all good things come to an end and always far too soon, the loud humming suggests investigations have begun for anything else that could catch her wavering interest while a finger flickers this way and that. Suspicions are quickly confirmed with the following remark.

“When was the last time you bothered to clear out your damn voicemail?”

“Not recently enough apparently, if you insist on looking please don’t delete anything.”

“A tempting idea but sure, there is a disgusting amount of your precious lady love in here anyway.”

“… Shut up, Nomura.”

She flashes a vicious grin his way without any shame whatsoever then proceeds to hold the phone close to that side of her face after pitching the volume a touch lower for that ironic privacy vibe while checking what tempting things that have been left ready to be found. The dates are as erratic as the time sent with the more mundane often during the day from who she presumes are his former school colleagues, one from her even which comes as a surprise given it is bragging about getting a gift through customs (A sword if she recalls correctly) and a few coded ones she had little interest in deciphering. Then there was a few with the good Doctor that skirted just close enough to flirty they were stopped pretty quickly with a near shriek and another finger shown his direction for the chuckle her undue suffering caused. It was strange how the newer ones still marked with her name simply mentioning coffee? Hm, something to prod about given they’d been left for listening to over and over while being depressive.

Then there was one sitting there right at the top that hadn’t been listened to once that just screamed click me.

“Awww did you and our favourite German asshole have a little spat?”

“A falling out you could say yes, he tried to throw me to the wolves but as you can tell none of them managed to bite.”

“Shame, probably most excitement you had in ages after we were down a troll tantrum thrower. Alright let’s see what our mystery message is because you’re too chicken shit to find out yourself.”

The final message opens with the sounds of heavy breathing of somebody had been running hard but had to keep going, the bangs and clatters of metal being hit or something large being thrown around. Sometimes the faint echoes of what sounded like screaming muffled by a doorway interrupted by a familiar voice sounding utterly defeated yet comforted by the knowing a last testament will be heard.

“You were right, Stricklander. Does knowing that make you happy? Ah well, it turns out we were as disposable to him as we were to one another it seems no matter our plans or great feats we have overcome for a moment of glory none of it meant a thing in the end. Some of us tried to buy as much time as we could what little it was but I can’t say for sure how many managed to make it out… I won’t but I’ve chosen my grave and I think you’d like it-” There is a pause with the sound of movement, of someone yelling in their own tongue before being cut off mid-sentence by a Reaper carved of stone.

“You were truly one of the best of us, mein freund. If you never believed a single thing I’ve said in our long years together please accept that I… I don’t have very much time left. Ah listen to me of all changelings being sentimental on my very own deathbed! Alas I cannot quite pull the same tricks as you being her favourite while we were the abandoned children of the night. If we truly have souls may we meet in the next life and know you still owe me a good bottle of r----”

The message cuts out into static before petering out into nothingness. Silence overcomes the car.

#dreamsarelikedragonflies #All fun and games until someone gets stabbed - memes

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letterboxd · 4 years

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Human Resources.

Kitty Green talks to our London correspondent Ella Kemp about “putting the audience in the shoes of the youngest woman in a toxic work environment” in her new film, The Assistant.

The long-undervalued job of a Hollywood assistant has come into stark relief thanks to recent events, and the stories that are being told of assistants’ experiences, working conditions and pay rates are jaw-dropping. (Episode 422 of the Scriptnotes podcast is well worth a listen.)

Filmmaker Kitty Green was well ahead of the conversation; her first narrative feature, The Assistant, quietly premiered at the Telluride Film Festival last August (and the Berlinale in February). Dubbed by many as ‘the first post-#MeToo movie’, it is a remarkable portrait of a young woman navigating just another day in the office. Except this is not just another office, and so many things are wrong about this day.

Starring Julia Garner (Grandma, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Electrick Children) as Jane, the assistant to the predatory head of a New York-based film studio, the story zooms in on the details of her routine—the tedious tasks, the belittlement from her colleagues, the oppression from her mostly faceless boss—with such laser-sharp vision that by the end we feel we know Jane deep in our bones.

Green has previously directed the documentary features Ukraine is Not a Brothel (2013) and Casting JonBenét (2017), the latter a meta-documentary that also hones in on the neglect and exploitation of young women, albeit under a different light (it is now streaming on Netflix). While Green’s documentary experience bears fruit in her attention to detail, the narrative form of The Assistant allows for a focus on mundane tasks and micro-reactions that documentary might not have access to.

Various Letterboxd reviews mention the anxiety-inducing way The Assistant allows us to watch Jane “probe her place in the established, tacit system of complacency… knowing that everyone around her is motivated by self-interest to pretend it doesn’t exist” (Josh Lewis). “Green encourages her viewers to pay close attention to what’s really going on beneath the surface,” (KristineJean) in “a horror movie of soul-sickening ambience” (Scott Tobias).

Though The Assistant’s film festival run was cut short, and the closure of cinemas around the world hurts for a lot of us, there’s something about the claustrophobia of social distancing and the intimacy of the small screen that maybe suits this picture. Nevertheless, seeing the film in a cinema in ‘the before time’ highlighted for Alyssa Heflin the ocean of different opinions that can come from misunderstood subtext: “Watching this in a room where you can hear people snickering at the girl and asking what the point of all this is adds a certain extra… incendiary level to an already deeply angry viewing experience.” Indeed, discomfort and crossed wires seem to define the messages at the core of The Assistant.

Kitty Green talks to Ella Kemp about the influence of Chantal Akerman, the infinite watchability of Julia Garner, and the oddness of growing up with a Nazi-free edit of The Sound of Music.

Jane (Julia Garner) takes another call from the boss in ‘The Assistant’.

The Assistant is your first fiction feature. The subject matter feels so immediate—what made you choose to not make a documentary of this, given your track record in that realm? Kitty Green: I went to fiction film school, and I made fiction short films. I then found work in documentary, so I made two feature-length docs. With this one, I was looking at exploring the micro-aggressions, the tiny moments, gestures, looks, glances, behaviors that often go overlooked when covering the #MeToo movement. We often talk about the bad men and the misconduct, but this is more about a cultural, structural problem. So I was hoping to amplify the more quietly insidious behavior that we need to address if we really want things to improve. A fiction film allowed me to hone in on details—close up—and the way you can take an annoyance through the emotional experience, putting the audience in the shoes of the youngest woman in a toxic work environment.

How did you decide to keep the timeframe to just one day in Jane’s life rather than fleshing it out over a longer period? The lead character is in such a complicated position. It’s such a difficult set of circumstances, the machinery that this predator has created around himself. I wanted to untick that, to discuss how difficult it is to be a young woman in that environment. So the day, the routine, was really important. What she was experiencing, how she was experiencing it; every task she did I gave equal weight to. Whether she was photocopying, binding something suspicious, you experience it as you would if you were in her shoes. That was important to me.

I had my fists clenched the whole time, when she’d be eating cereal, or washing up mugs, waiting for something awful to happen. Totally. It’s exploring misconduct, but it’s also looking at a whole spectrum, from gendered work environments, toxic work environments, through all these environments that support predatory behavior. I was interested in what the entry points are, without conflating those issues and being able to explore all the cultural systemic things we need to unpick to move forward.

The film is so focused on Jane, played by Julia Garner. How did you choose her? The script is pretty bare when it describes who she is, she’s just Jane. I didn’t have anyone in mind, really. I told my casting agent that we’re watching this character do the most mundane tasks, so it was important that she was striking. I said I needed someone infinitely watchable. I had seen Julia in The Americans and I remembered being struck by her, so I immediately wanted to meet her. She really understood the script, it worked out beautifully. We got to create the character together, we had a month of rehearsals where we really went through where she was emotionally at any given point, and Julia is wonderful so it was great.

Matthew Macfadyen and Kitty Green discuss a scene in ‘The Assistant’. / Photo: Ty Johnson

And Matthew Macfadyen—his character feels so crucial and his performance so pivotal, even in just one scene. What were you looking for when casting him? I’ve been a fan of his for forever, but I hadn’t seen Succession. Apparently the character has some similarities? I’ve only watched Succession in the past week… Somebody had to send me a clip to prove he could do an American accent! Matthew really brought something to that character and took it to another level. It’s so insidious what he does. He and Julia worked so beautifully together, it just got better and better every time.

How did you feel watching Succession now and seeing Matthew as Tom Wambsgans? Tom still feels different somehow. But I’ve had a good time watching it, he’s so great. There are parallels for sure!

The language you use in the film is so careful, so much is in the subtext. How do you build tension from these empty spaces? We had a great visual team who were lighting it in an interesting way. There was a lot of oppressive fluorescent lights. The sound was also very important—we had an amazing sound designer, Leslie Schatz, who does a lot of Todd Haynes’ stuff and Gus Van Sant’s. He’d done Elephant, which I thought was phenomenally sound designed. He sent out a team to record every kind of buzz, hum, whir, and we created a lot of tension in that soundscape. It heightens these moments when you can really feel the hum of the fluorescent lights or the alarm of the copier. Things like that are authentic to the world, so it doesn’t feel like you’re manipulating an audience, but they do add a dramatic tension.

During The Assistant’s various film festival screenings so far, audience reactions have been quite varied. Some people find it uncomfortable, some have found it funny. What would you hope an audience member would take from it? Who found it funny…? That’s a strange reaction, and a little terrifying. I think it makes some men uncomfortable and maybe their reaction is to laugh as a way to hide that discomfort. I get a lot of men come up to me afterwards and say, “There are things in that film that maybe I have done.” Those conversations are really important. There’s a scene where the men lean over Jane’s chair and correct her email, little things like that which can be quite patronising even if a lot of men think are helpful. But there’s a point where they cross a line, where maybe it isn’t helpful anymore and it’s a little insulting. I’ve had a few people who are bosses with their own assistants who have watched the film and have said they’re going to treat them a little better, and that maybe they’re wrestling with their own guilt. I think those conversations are great.

Julia Garner prepares for a take on the set of ‘The Assistant’. / Photo: Ty Johnson

What is your favorite one-woman-show performance, where one female actor entirely carries the film? A big influence on The Assistant was Chantal Akerman’s Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles. It’s just one woman going about her housework. I remember seeing that in film school and being bowled over by it, I’d never seen anything like it.

Do you have a favorite scene that has ever taken place in an office environment? Offices… I mean, I love The Office? I watched it in preparation for this, even though there’s seemingly nothing in common except for the ways of the photocopier…

It’s important to inhale that kind of comedy while working on something more intense, right? For sure, that helps.

What is your favorite on-screen argument? I watched a lot of them to prepare for the HR scene, as it’s a confrontation between two characters. There’s a scene in Steve McQueen’s Hunger, which is a seventeen-minute dialogue. It’s an incredible scene. It’s not an argument but still some sort of confrontation. I was interested in scenes like that which are really long and stand out from the rest of the movie. James Schamus, one of my producers, made a film called Indignation, which has a confrontation between two characters, which also influenced the structure of what I was doing. I also just watched the latest episode of Better Call Saul in which there’s a sixteen-minute confrontation, which I thought was pretty remarkable.

What was the first film that made you want to be a filmmaker? To be honest I’m not sure. I got a video camera when I was eleven, and I started playing with it in our backyard, making little movies. It wasn’t that I saw a film and tried to replicate it necessarily. But I do have a strange story…

I had a copy of The Sound of Music in which my father had edited out the Nazis, because he was worried I’d be scared of them as a kid. So I have this strange 40-minute version of the film that ends at the wedding scene… And I always thought that was The Sound of Music, and then in high school I figured out there’s this whole other storyline I never knew existed. I guess that taught me the power of editing! I had to go back and rewatch what I’d seen, and it definitely made me think of the craft more as a viewer.

‘The Assistant’ is available to watch on VOD platforms (including Hulu) as of late July.

#kitty green #the assistant #directed by women #female director #independent film #telluride film festival #virtual screening #virtual release #metoo #payuphollywood #hollywood assistant #timesup #juliagarner #matthewmacfadyen #patrickwilson #succession #bettercallsaul #chantel akerman #letterboxd

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davidfarland · 5 years

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Character Tips

Of all the topics on how to write, I suspect more books have been written on how to create solid characters than on anything else. So there are a lot of great resources out there on how to create characters, and I can’t even touch on every topic that I would like in the space of an article this short.

Let me just say a few things, though. We are often told that our characters should be “round,” rather than stick-figure drawings. If you were an artist and you painted a picture with stick figures, people would say, “Well, that’s not very realistic. It is hardly recognizable as human.”

The artist tries to create characters who have the dimensions of real people. The same is true with people in stories. They have (but are not limited to) the following attributes:

1) Real people have physical bodies with inherent limitations and strengths. These bodies get hungry, hurt, and have urges all their own. They also have a history of ailments and injuries, various scars, and of course plenty of traits that we may or may not want to include in our tale—including things like foot size, ear size and shape, and so on. Trying to describe some of these traits is danged near impossible.

2) Real people have families and friends. In young adult literature, just about everyone is an orphan. That’s because editors don’t want authors to have to deal with family issues, just focus on the kids. Yet far too often, authors don’t create extended families primarily out of laziness. Similarly, each of us has various levels of friends, business colleagues, people we are attracted to, and people who are attracted to us at some level. We might include in this list of associations things like pets and plants. Does your heroine keep African violets around the house, and tenderly nurse her geraniums? A likeable character is usually one who show kindness to others, who seeks out deep and lasting commitments—even if it is just to her flowers.

3) Real people have jobs—usually a history of them. For example, I’ve been a meat cutter, a prison guard, a missionary, a movie producer, novelist, video game designer, technical writer and editor, grocer, gourmet ice-cream pie maker, and farmer. In the modern world, we tend to develop large skill sets as we age, but there was a time when a person started life as a farmer and ended up buried out by the grape vines.

4) Real people also have a place in society. These societies might include political groups, religious and civic organizations, and so on.

5) Real people have an internal life, invisible to the naked eye. This is a good category for a lot of things—emotional needs and phobias, ideals, and so on. These might include secret beliefs, hopes, desires. It also includes our own personal way of seeing the world, and includes how we cope with it. Sometimes our personal ideals are at odds with our public affiliations. For example, while most people profess some sort of religion, very often our personal beliefs might vary in some way from the official doctrine of the church that we espouse.

The internal life of a character is of course where we get the “meat” for our novels. A movie can easily capture the exterior of a character, but novels do a better job of capturing the internal feelings, moods, and beliefs. Yet that’s only part of the reason why novels are so popular and are often said to be better than the movies they inspire.

I’m convinced that we have an innate need to get to know one another from the inside out. You see, most people, if you look closely, seem to be rather odd and inexplicable. They act in strange ways and have crazy notions. (I, of course, am the exception!) So we learn quite early to distrust others, to fear them. As a child of four, I recall getting spanked in a grocery store by a cranky old lady. When I went to school, in the third grade I had a teacher who seemed bent on destroying the life of one little boy in our class. A couple of years later, I had a neighbor who tried to trap my little sister in his barn. I was able to stop him, and shortly afterward learned that he was the serial killer who had been haunting our town for years. In other words, people can be strange and scary.

Yet we have a biological impulse to “join the herd,” to find a mate, to interact with others, befriend them, serve them, and rely upon them. In order to do that, we have to learn to understand them, to figure out who is friend and who is foe, and the key to that is understanding why they act as they do.

So we spend a great deal of time analyzing the motives, beliefs, and actions of others. We compare ourselves to them, and sometimes we are changed by them—in ways that are rather dramatic.

Hence, the internal lives of our characters are the most fertile ground that an author may plant his story in.

6) As we explore the internal lives of our characters, one of the most important areas to explore is that person’s internal conflicts. What happens when a person loves and fears the same thing? What happens when a man’s conscience won’t let him carry out his boss’s (or wife’s, or master’s) orders? Most people are filled with interesting contradictions, and usually that provides the best material for our novels.

7) Last of all, each character has a unique way of speaking. Finding a character’s voice and accent is often a key for me when writing a book. The character never comes alive until I can hear him talking in my own imagination.

In conclusion, please note that people are not stick figures. Neither are they “round.” In a good novel, the author creates a number of characters who are put in opposition, and each of them is satisfying and believable. Your imaginary characters never really quite come alive, but at times it can feel like they’re taking over your story, bent on achieving their own ends.

#writing tips #writing tip #writing tips and tricks #writing help #writing helps #characters #character #author #editor #writeblr #writing characters #writing advice #creative writing #writing lessons

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shaun-evans-fanblog · 5 years

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Lessons Learnt

Shaun Evans returns in Endeavour – but what has life taught him since he left his last crime scene?

RADIO TIMES: Interview by MICHAEL HODGES Locked away in the labyrinth of ITV’s London headquarters, Shaun Evans, so buttoned up when he plays Endeavour Morse, is giving vent to his passions. “I’m interested in stories,” he says, whacking the table with his hand. “What is it about people sitting around a campfire and telling each other tales to illuminate, to entertain, to educate, to inspire? And what about all the amazing histories and religions and books there are? In this line of work, you should know more about things. Does that make sense?” Sort of, I say, “Ah, right,” he exclaims, “you just want me to downplay everything!” Really, I don’t want him to downplay anything. I’m just trying to keep up with a 38-year-old who pulses with enthusiasm of a man half his age. In our hour together he tells me about his decision to act as well as star in Endeavour, why he drives himself relentlessly to learn more about the world, the reason he doesn’t go boozing anymore, and just how much he cares for the people he works with. “I really love these guys”, he says of the Endeavour team. He also asks me not to write anything that suggests he has anything but the utmost respect for his colleagues. “I’m always wary,” he says, “I’m just going to say that now.” He’s wearing slimming dark navy trousers and a shirt, but there’s not an inch of fat on him. He looks like he does on television, focused and very serious. Evans has played Endeavour Morse, the younger version of the detective made famous by John Thaw, alongside Roger Allam’s DCI Fred Thursday, for seven years. With writer Russell Lewis and executive producer Damien Timmer, Evans is one of the key people who steers the hit show’s direction. “And Rog,” Evans adds. Such is the chemistry between Evans and Allam, I suggest it’s their relationship, rather than the will-won’t-they tension between Endeavour and Thursday’s daughter Joan, that is the real romance at the heart of the show. “Yes,” says Evans, mulling this over as he mulls everything. “I’d agree.” They first appeared together in a 2012 pilot. Five full series followed, and now Endeavour is back for *six feature-length episodes, the second of which Evans has directed. Having directed episodes of the long-running medical drama Casualty before, Evans says he’s determined not be limited to acting. “Even if Endeavour was to end now I feel I’d be able to go and direct something and it wouldn’t be second best.” The last series of Endeavour finished in disarray, when Lewis Peek’s rookie constable George Fancy was gunned down and WPC Shirley Trewlove, played by Dakota Blue Richards, left for Scotland Yard. Now the 1970s are in sight and hard drugs have hit Oxford. DCI Thursday, after postponing his retirement, is working under a thoroughly unpleasant and possibly corrupt new boss, and a rueful Morse is manning a rural station, back in uniform and sporting a large moustache. “When Fancy got killed, I thought Morse felt responsible for that,” Evans says, explaining the moustache. “So, there was an idea of asking, “What about not being able to look in the mirror? What would take you away from yourself?” As ever with Endeavour it’s the atmosphere that matters. The souring of the 1960s is signaled by brutalist interiors and lots of Led Zeppelin, and the show also seems more willing to show the bullet holes and wounds than before. “Well, it’s always a compromise,” Evans says. “ITV have specific guidelines about what they want and don’t want to see at a certain time. But I think as a storyteller, you’re interested more in the darker aspect of things. Often, it’s where a lot of the gold is.” The series, as complex as ever, is less concerned with tying everything up at the end; explaining what has happened has never really been what Endeavour is about. “That’s very astute,” says Evans, as if he has finally found someone who agrees with him. “I find it dissatisfying when I watch something and then walk away and I’m still thinking afterwards, ‘He bought those stamps and sent that letter, but how could he have done that?’ That annoys me. So I always seek clarification on that. Sometimes you get it, sometimes you don’t.”

Evans was born in Liverpool in 1980; his father was a taxi driver and his mother was a health worker. “My family originate from Ireland and that was a massive part of my culture growing up,” he says. “I feel as close an affinity with that as I do with being from Up North. One of the great things about being an actor is you can leave all of that behind – just crack on and do your work. Now I’ve lived in London as I lived there.” Does he worry about becoming a Londoner? “Yes, or of losing a big part of who you are. It’s funny, isn’t it? You spend so long pretending to be other people, then as soon as you go home you’re right back into it.” When Endeavour began, Evans based his portrayal of young Morse’s voice on that of Michael Palin, another young northerner who found himself in Oxford in the 1960s. He still does. “I was listening to one of his CDs the other day. I get a new one for the series.” I’m surprised to hear how much of Merseyside remains in Evans’s own voice. “For good or ill for someone in my game,” says Evans. “I was reluctant to do much press for this way back because I thought, ‘Well, as soon as people hear what you sound like, it’s game over, isn’t it?’ I like having a bit of separation.” When he was 11 years old, he won a place at St Edward’s College, the highly academic Liverpool school run by the Christian Brothers. “I was raised as an Irish Catholic,” he says. “It’s always there, but I don’t really have any religion. I have a system of my own personal beliefs, which are informed by many different things. I’m kind of interested in studying the gospels but just as interested in the origins of Europe. For half the year Evans is filming Endeavour; the other half is dedicated to a sort of restless search for knowledge that can take him around the world. “I can afford to take six months off,” he says. “I love my work. But if I’m not doing that, I’m taking pictures, I’m writing every day, reading books. The first job I ever had was in a camera shop, so taking pictures and being interested in photography and developing has always been a part of my life. Writing as well. I want to be better. I want to improve as best I can.” Can he reveal any books, television series that may emerge from this creativity? “No, not right now” he says. “You would look like a prat if you said something and then it didn’t happen.” Does he ever just take a break? “Of course. You do things that you like to do, but I also like to generate my own work as well, otherwise I’d just be sitting around. You need other things going on. In a way it makes no odds, regardless of how much you’re getting paid. That’s a by-product, isn’t it?” That rather depends, I suggest, on how much you’re being paid. “I hear what you’re saying,” he concedes. “If you’ve got to run out and get another job. But I think it can be equally dangerous having that luxury, and damaging to someone in my line of work. “For those six months there’s so many things that I’ve thought about that are interesting, and I want to make sure that I make the most of them. I’m also going to be working with different people, seeing different parts of the world and seeing how different people do different things – photographers and film-makers. And also studying the history of things as well. There’s so much to do…” He doesn’t tell me if he has a partner, but I imagine Evans would be hard to go on holiday with. “Yes, a nightmare,” he says, “If I went and sat on a beach I’d last about two days.” I wonder if he ever does anything that isn’t serious or intelligent? “Like what?” Deciding to drink yourself silly this weekend, perhaps. “I’ve done that,” he says, “It’s not like it doesn’t suit me. I just feel like time is of the essence, and I want to work. There have been times when I wasn’t as productive, but I don’t think I was as happy. I’ve realized what keeps me happy and what keeps me going. Seeing things, mates who inspire me to be creative. Not being hungover for four days, and losing those days? Drinking is amazing. I love all that but, right now, I’m into doing my work.” And finally, I ask, will the series ever come full circle and end in 1987, when the original Morse began? “No,” he says with certainty. “We won’t do that.” Will there at least be another series? “If we reached the destination of the story in this series,” he says. “If we felt that we’d seen it all, then we all have to be brave and say, we’ve done that now.” He ends as intensely as he began. Feeling a bit blown away, I take the wrong corridor when we part and go down a dead end. I turn back, round a corner and find Evans again. He’s hugging Roger Allam by the lifts.

#shaun evans #interviews #endeavour

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timetoresurface · 5 years

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Dream Glow / JJK (1)

a steady radiance of light or heat

Word: Listening to Dream Glow by BTS and Charli XCX gave me a new dose of inspiration. This is what I came up with after weeks of radio silence. Pairing: Y/N x Jungkook Genre: Romance, as I’m a hopeless romantic, best friend idol au Warnings: nothing really, maybe a bit angsty covered in fluff Word count: 5K Summary: You’re just trying to make it though the day with Jungkook being your best friend. Distance and personal issues make it hard to maintain this friendship but you are both dedicated. The day Jungkook admits to like someone is the day you start to realize how much you actually like that stupid boy. What should you do?

Everything you are is average. You work an ordinary job filled with normal people trying to make it through the day. The apartment you live in is a regular home for a city person. The daily routine of your life was a simple comfort blanket, something to shield you from all the risks you hadn’t taken. You were happy, or at least you made yourself believe you were. You were satisfied with a simple life because you had chosen to settle for the ordinary.

“Y/N!” Your boss yelled through the office making everyone feel insecure and scared. You however were used by your boss’s rude behavior. What did he need this time? And why did he have to scream for attention when you were almost finished with your project?

“You called for me sir?” You asked while entering his office. The room was painted in a dull grey and was filled with dark furniture. The only splash of color were the plants that were scattered through his office. You took quite an interest in his plants as you were the only one watering them. You were the only one that cared as your boss never liked the smelly green things his wife had given him throughout the years.

“Have you already finished the report about the returning customers?” He asked you with despair in his voice. He probably had a fight with his wife or something because he usually wasn’t the desperate kind of man.

“I was just finishing up. I can send it to you in half an hour if you’d like.” You politely answered his question with fake politeness.

“That would be perfect.” He gestured for you to leave his office and you gladly exited. This was a weekly routine and you weren’t as scared as you had been before. Your boss is just someone who likes perfection and as long as you deliver something close to excellence he would leave you to do your job.

You handed him the report when it was finished. You had lunch with two of your colleagues you could kind of call your friends. Afterwards you cleaned your inbox starting with the more urgent ones before calling it a day. There wasn’t any adventure in your daily routine, it mostly was just you trying to make it through the day without crying.

“See you tomorrow Y/N.” One of your colleagues said while speed walking through the rain, she had forgotten her umbrella and tried to avoid the droplets by zigzagging.

“Bye.” You said while opening your umbrella. The walk back to your place was only a ten minute walk. Something you loved about your job as it was the only time of the day where you could clear your thoughts. Nothing satisfies you more than walking through the busy city streets with a good soundtrack playing in the background. The most adventure you got in your day were these ten minutes where you tried not to get hit by cars and ignored people’s rude remarks when you walked too slow.

Your thoughts were interrupted by your cellphone loudly playing stressed out by Twenty One Pilots. Who dares to interrupt your only ten minutes of freedom?

“Y/N speaking?” You didn’t look at the caller ID thinking it wouldn’t be someone important. The only meaningful person in your life was always traveling the world and barely had time to call you every other week.

“Y/N it is me! Did you delete my number?” The caller’s voice yelled from the other side of the line. All annoyance disappeared as soon as you heard his melodic voice.

“Jungkook!” You exclaimed. “No, I would never delete your number, you know that.” A smile found its way to your face and you couldn’t even remember the last time your muscles were found in this position. The last time you smiled this big was probably the last time Jungkook had called you.

“Lately I’m not so sure Y/N. I’m always the one calling and making sure our friendship keeps on existing.” You could hear the little pout through his voice. Always a baby.

“You’re always busy when I call. I can literally drop everything when you’re calling. I mean you can’t stop singing in the middle of a show just to talk to me.” It was a stupid excuse but it was the one you were going to hide behind.

“I would though.” He whispered but you barely heard him over the buzz in the background.

“Where are you? It is so noisy.” You asked him genuinely interested in his whereabouts.

“Backstage at some award show.” Was his vague answer. Sometimes it was really difficult to keep up a good satisfying conversation with him.

“Oh. Did you win anything?” You tried to poke him again to receive more than just some lazy answer he would give to his mom.

“Yes, we just came back from the acceptance speech. It was great.” He sounded happy but also tired. They probably still have to perform as they’re the biggest act at the moment. And they like to keep the best for last.

“I’m proud of you Jungkook.” And you meant it. You had met Jungkook while he was already in BTS, the early stages, at school. He wasn’t always in class as he had to practice and perform but when he was present he immediately caught your eye. Maybe you had wanted something more than friendship at the time but you settled to just be his friend. You were selfish, you knew that, you just wanted him in your life. Also you were both sixteen at the time, who was ready for something as serious as a relationship. Definitely not you.

“Y/N, tomorrow we’ll be flying home. Wait for me at our dorms?” His question was so innocent. He just wanted someone familiar to hug while arriving back home before the shit storm of practice starts again.

“Send me your schedule and I’ll be there when you arrive.” You accepted his offer even if you had to call in sick at work.

“Okay great. See you in a bit.”

“See you.” With you saying the last words the call had ended. Your friendship with Jungkook had been the most important thing in your life for the past year. He didn’t know that and you kind of wanted to keep it that way. He doesn’t need to know you hated your job and he most definitely doesn’t need to find out about your zero friends. You hadn’t always been such a mood killer but the past two years everything had changed and somehow you ended up as an old single lady complaining about everything. Except when you were with Jungkook or the other members of BTS. You were always at your best behavior when you were with them, reminding yourself of who you used to be before you had turned into the old screaming neighborhood lady with a thousand cats. Even though you had not one cat as your building forbade you to have pets, the bastards.

## flashback ##

You were busy taking all your books out of your backpack when the teacher called for your attention. A new boy was enrolling in your class and he was a trainee, a wannabe idol. There were a few others in your class who were trainee’s and you could immediately tell they were never going to make it. They just didn’t have the special cuteness you needed to become a well respected idol. You were still setting up your desk when the teacher introduced the new boy. You didn’t need to look at him to know he was just another wannabe trying to become something bigger than the stars had planned out for him.

“I’m Jungkook. Hello.” He awkwardly said with a voice as clear as crystal. You head instantly snapped up to look at the new boy and for the first time you saw someone close to resemble a future idol. He could if he wanted to, but his shy behavior might be mistaken for someone who didn’t really want to do anything but hide.

“You can sit next to Y/N.” The teacher said while gesturing toward you. Jungkook didn’t seem too pleased when he followed the teachers finger but you were excited. Never had you seen someone so innocent and intriguing. Maybe it were your teenage hormones finally acting up or maybe it was fate. Who could tell?

The first few weeks he was there every single day but you still hadn’t said a word to him. You secretly admired him from afar and wondered if he had gotten any sleep that night. You weren’t the only one intrigued by the new boy but he didn’t seem to care. He had made one friend, another trainee, and didn’t even try to contact anyone else. The day you had finally found all your courage to go and talk to him, he wasn’t there. And he was gone for a week before he got back to school with his ears pierced and his hair dyed another color. All your courage had disappeared and you were back at admiring him from a distance. Noticing little things like him always trying to hide his laugh even though it was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard.

Months went by and your obsession with the boy had started to die out as your favorite artist had released a new song. Maybe it were the Gods playing tricks on you but the moment you started to lose him in a crowd they pushed him right back into your lap.

“Please take a number and the person who has the same number will be your partner during this project.” Your teacher said while walking through the room so everyone could pick a number. Some tried to cheat and others were trying to change numbers with someone else trying to bribe them with little things. You noticed Jungkook’s number before you checked yours. He had a big nine written on a paper and you had the same nine on yours.

“Y/N can you maybe change numbers? I really want to be paired up with Jungkook.” Some girl in your class whispered into your ear. It was one of those girls who wore make-up even though it was strictly forbidden by school rules. Somehow the teachers didn’t notice her young features highlighted with mascara and lipstick.

“Y/N you also have a nine right?” Jungkook came to your rescue and for the first time your eyes locked. Slowly you nodded your head and you both agreed later on this was the moment your friendship had officially started.

## end flashback ##

Luckily for your boss Jungkook arrived late at night which meant you could spend your Friday at work. Unluckily for you, Jungkook had to arrive past nine PM making you go to your desk and sit through boring mails and phone calls. He had send you a couple of texts throughout the day and your colleagues noticed your different behavior.

“It is strange to see you smile during office hours.” Someone had said.

“Maybe she has a date tonight? She looks extremely good today.” You heard someone whisper to another colleague. You didn’t care for their words as the only thing that mattered was you and Jungkook reuniting after months of separation. You had also checked out his schedule and he was staying for over a month which meant a month of happiness and endless cuddles.

“Y/N can you finish this off for me? I need to go pick up my mom from the hospital.” One of your closest co-workers asked. You didn’t really belief her as her outfit screamed more date night than hospital taxi driver but you simple agreed as you had the time due to Jungkook arriving late.

Hours went by slowly, very slowly. Jungkook hadn’t texted you anymore which meant his must be on a plane but it made you nervous. You hadn’t seen him in a while and he always stayed the same shy annoying boy you got to know and love, but you were always expecting the worst. What if his famous status got to his head and he would become someone like those Hollywood assholes? You shivered at the thought. But luckily your phone started buzzing making you forget these ugly thoughts of your best friend.

“Hi Y/N! We just landed. I’ll be there in an hour or so.” He exclaimed happily with the dying motor of the airplane being heard in the background.

“Ok, see you soon.” You simply stated before hanging up the phone. You quickly gathered your things and ran out of your office building after shutting all the lights as you were the last to leave.

Every time you went to meet Jungkook after haven’t seen him for a long time you were nervous. Just as nervous as the first time he took you to his dorms to start working on your school project. Which was of course a bad idea as everyone else in his band wanted to disturb you. It also didn’t help that you were a girl and they barely saw girls around their dorms which made them even more annoying. Over the years they had changed dorms and some of them had also bought their own apartment, including Jungkook and his extravagant luxurious apartment. He still asked you to hang out at his dorm which made you unsure of his intentions. Were you going to spend a couple of hours together or were you going to spend the night talking about everything and nothing?

Some of the staff had already arrived and welcomed you with open arms. They had not only seen Jungkook grow up to be a fine human being but they also noticed you becoming more of a woman. Hugs were exchanged and short anecdotes were told, not from your side as you barely had anything new to say.

“Jungkook missed you Y/N. I want to see his face when he notices you here.” One of the staff members said and you couldn’t help but blush. At the beginning most of the staff didn’t like you hanging out with Jungkook. Scared that one of you might fall for the other or even worse, someone might see you two hanging out. Luckily nobody was in love with the other and luckily, but rather unlucky for you, Jungkook couldn’t spend all his free time with you as he was too busy traveling the world with his best friends.

“How have you been Y/N?” Someone of the management asked you and you knew the boys must be close as they’re barely seen without their managers.

“I’ve been good. I’ve been working and everything is ok.” You tried to sound happy and up beat but you secretly needed Jungkook to bring that side back out of you.

“Other things outside work?” He asked you with concern in his eyes but you couldn’t answer him as someone hugged you from behind.

“Y/N!” It was Jungkook’s voice screaming in your ear. It were Jungkook’s arms holding you so tight you could barely breathe.

“Kook. Oh, how I’ve missed you.” You turned around and hugged him tightly with your arms around his neck taking in his scent. Slowly all your worries disappeared and slowly the energy creeped back into your body. Jungkook was like your only charger in this world. The only one who could make you feel happy despite everything.

“You look incredible. Have you lost weight?” Typically of an idol to compliment your weight and inquiring if you really did lose weight.

“Maybe by accident. Did you gain weight though?” You cupped his cheeks in your hand and tried to examine him.

“I only gain muscles.” He said while showing off his arms. You quickly squeezed his arm and were surprised with the hardness of his muscles.

“Missed me that much you had to escape to a gym?” You gently teased him.

“You don’t even know half of it Y/N.” Taehyung said while walking passed Jungkook toward you. Out of all the boys Tae might have been your favorite member of BTS. Not only was he good-looking but also the nicest human being you had ever met. He quickly enveloped you in a big hug.

“I feel like Jungkook has a lot of explaining to do.” You said as soon as Taehyung ended the hug.

“I’ll make sure he never lies and tells you all the nasty details without filter.” His words were more directed toward Jungkook than you.

“I would love that Tae. So how was tour?” You asked the two boys while walking inside with your arms around both their shoulders.

“Sooooo…” Jungkook started. “What’s new?” He asked excitedly.

“Soooo…” you mimicked his adorable behavior. “How was tour?” You asked him trying to ignore his question.

“I’ve already told you about that Y/N. I feel like we’re only talking about me lately and I want to know more about your life.” He tried to get you to talk.

“There is nothing to tell and even if there was it isn’t as exciting as your stories.” This was the second time you were trying to ignore his questions about you.

“Your stories are always interesting. I can’t think of anyone who is better with words than you are.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” You laughed.

“I never lie. Have you been working on your stories?” How long were you going to ignore his inquiries? This was starting to get hard.

“Not as much as I would’ve liked but there is some progress.” You told him, which was a big fat lie. You hadn’t written anything after a well known publisher told you to f*ck off.

“That is good news though. Can I read some?” He asked you so innocently, you almost wanted to admit your failure of a life to him.

“Only when it is fin-“

“finished. I know.” He completed your sentence and a small smile appeared. Sometimes you forgot how fond you were of the boy sitting cross legged across you.

“Please Jungkook, tell me about your life? What is new? Do you have fresh scar? Is there anyone who caught your eye while I wasn’t in the picture to distract you?” He rolled his eyes at your desperate attempt to change the topic from you to him. Which kind of worked as he started to blush.

“What is it? Why are you blushing?”

“Nothing, but there might be someone.” The blush on his face got bigger and redder.

“Who? Tell me everything.” You cried out.

“We started texting a while back and she’s finishing her tour in a couple of days and then her band will take a little break like ours. We promised each other to make time and have a little date.” He blurted out and you could immediately tell he had waited to tell you about this girl, who is not you.

## flashback ##

“So this is the last time Y/N is going to join us here?” Taeyhung asked sadly with a big baby pout. BTS had debuted two years ago and were finally getting a bit bigger. Their looks were starting to get better and they left their bad boy imitations, which were cringe to say the least.

“Don’t blame me Tae, blame Jungkook. He thinks I’m a distraction because you all work less when I’m around.” You pretended to be hurt but in reality you weren’t. You knew they worked less when you were around and you really didn’t want them to lose focus of their goals which were finally getting closer they could almost touch it.

“I never said you weren’t welcome anymore. You’re making this a way bigger issue than it really is.” Jungkook tried to reason with you but only making things worse.

“You literally just said I wasn’t welcome anymore. So I’ll never set foot again in your smelly dorm.” You said with crossed arms trying to look hurt.

“Please Y/N, don’t do this. Please forget what I said, you are always welcome.” Jungkook pleaded with you and you couldn’t help but smile at his pouty face.

“It’s okay, Kook. I won’t leave you.” You said while cupping his cheeks with your hands. He tried to escape but you weren’t letting him go. You both locked eyes and he immediately stopped resisting and just stared at your face as if you were the only one that mattered.

“You guys are so disgustingly cute sometimes.” Taehyung said while walking away from the two of you.

“He is right though, we’re disgusting.” You said while averting your eyes from his intense gaze.

“I think we’re just cute, not disgusting.” The words escaped his mouth in a little pout.

“Maybe he is right and we’re both.” With that being said the both of you burst out laughing. The kind of extreme laughing your belly would start to hurt after a while. The kind of giggling which left you breathless. The kind of happiness only Jungkook could give you.

## end flashback ##

Yes, there might have been a time where you thought you and Jungkook would’ve ended up together. That thought was easily broken when you had your first boyfriend and Jungkook started to keep his distance out of respect for the other guy. Jungkook was always traveling or working and because you missed him so much you fell into the arms of another guy. Someone who started out as a dream guy but slowly turned into the villain of your story.

“I’m glad you’re finally dating. It was about time.” You happily said while clapping your hands in excitement. There was a soft pang of jealousy at the pit of your stomach but you easily ignored the feeling.

“When are you going to date again?” His question came out as a whisper. A very insecure whisper.

“I date.” You defended yourself while trying to avert your eyes from his questioning ones.

“Really? When was your last date?” He asked you.

“I didn’t know you were going to be so up my personal life. I would’ve made you a FAQ if I had known you were in such an intrusive mood.” You tried to joke away the awkward questions.

“It is not intrusive but more of a bit concerned about you mood.” His eyes softened and again you were close to pouring your heart out to the guy.

“You don’t need to be concerned about me. You need to be concerned about you and your date.” With your words being said he turned into the shy Jungkook you knew and loved.

“I’m so nervous Y/N. You need to prepare me.”

“There is nothing for you to prepare. You’re an amazing person Jungkook and if she doesn’t see that than she is not worthy of your time. But you told me you were texting her?” You asked him genuinely interested.

“Yes, I’ve known her for a while now but last month at an award show we talked for the first time. She immediately gave me her number and Taehyung told me to text her the next day if I didn’t want to screw up.” He blurted out in one breath.

“Tae can be wise. That was indeed a good tactic. We’re too old to play games. If you want to date someone there should be no waiting two days before you call.” You said while nodding your head.

“Girls like that?” He asked you unsure.

“Girls like it when a guy makes an effort to talk to them. We girls like to feel special.” You softly explained to him. It wasn’t his fault he knew so little about the other sex. He had lived a shielded life with you as the only exception of a non idol person in his environment.

“I missed you so much Y/N. You’re the only one I can talk to about this fragile subject. The other guys are barely more experienced than I am.” His eyes were filled with emotions you couldn’t quite explain. They used to be filled with love and affection for you but there has been a shift. He has traded these eyes for someone else and you were left with something different you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly.

“I’m always here for you Jungkook.” You told him your eyes filled with regret. You would always be there for him but will he stay by your side through thick and thin? Through a relationship? Trough everything?

## flashback ##

“Who is the guy you are dating?” Jungkook asked you a bit too loud. Everyone stopped the conversations they were having just to listen to your answer.

“Well, we’re not really dating. We’re just hanging out, you know.” You softly told him. You tried to keep your voice down and hoped Jungkook got the memo.

“That’s dating.” He shot back. The other people in the room tried to start their discussions again as they noticed the private atmosphere hanging round you and Jungkook. Why was he acting like such a d*ick?

“Why are you acting like this?” You hissed.

“You could’ve told me sooner.” Jungkook tried to unfist his hands as he was finally calming down. He never wanted you to be angry so every time he noticed you getting worked up, he just stopped being an ass. Or at least he tried.

“I wanted to tell you in person and not through face time as this is a very personal and important matter.” You calmly explained to him.

“How long has it been going on?” He whispered silently.

“A month or so. I don’t know exactly when it all started.” You tried to clarify but it was all new for you too. You had never considered dating anyone and when Eunwoo happened to cross your path you tried to fight it off as long as you could.

“Are you happy?” There was something in his eyes making your insides go soft. But you ignored these feelings.

“I really am, Jungkook. Eunwoo is a great guy and I would love for you to meet him.”

“If he’s that important to you, I’ll make an effort to like him.”

“That’s all I’m asking Jungkook. Now can we continue eating and feasting as we haven’t seen each other for four months or do you want to keep being an ass to your only best friend?” The both of you started laughing as he put his arm over your shoulder. You leaned into him, taking in his smell at the same time Jungkook kissed the top of your head. This was your safe place and you wouldn’t want to trade it for the world.

## end flashback ##

“Remember to smile.” You told Jungkook while you were doing his hair.

“I can do that.” He said more to himself.

“Also remember to listen to her. Not just listen but ask her small questions about whatever she was talking about. Otherwise it would just seem like you were waiting for her to stop talking so you can start talking.” You stopped tugging at his long hair and took a step back to admire your work. Jungkook was in full date outfit and mindset. There was no way this was going to turn sour.

“Do I look good?” He asked you shyly.

“You always look like the most handsome man in the room.” You honestly complimented him while your hand hovered over his cheek. Your hand never touched his face as he was going to date another girl. That girl was going to be the only one allowed to touch his face like that.

“Thank you.” He grabbed your hand and held it in between his hands “for everything.” He finished.

“What are best friends for, right?” You tried to swallow the lump in your throat. There was son way this date was going to fail. So deep in your heart you knew this was your last moment with Jungkook without having to control your hands. His eyes were looking for yours but you tried to ignore this stare. The moment your eyes would lock with his, you would start to cry and to be honest, he doesn’t deserve that kind of negativity before a date.

“It is time for me to leave.” He said while standing up. His hands never let go of yours though so you were forced to also stand up.

“Ok, have a good time and remember to listen to her.” You said while taking your hands out of his. He was on his own now. You couldn’t hold his hand forever, you know.

“Yes, and something about never smiling.” He joked, which got a laugh out of you.

“Honestly, if you smile or even if you don’t, you’re still the best guy to date. You’re a real catch, my friend.”

“It’s a shame we never dated.” He started which got your heart beating double its normal speed. “You deserve a good guy to date.”

“I’ll find him when the time is right but please Jungkook, leave before you’re too late and blame it all on me.” You said trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the lump in your throat. He kissed your cheek and left to go to his date. You fell to floor, feeling drained. It was a first, having to pretend to be happy and cheerful around Jungkook as he usually got it out of you without a problem. But today you had to feign your smile and it didn’t feel good.

#bts #bts jungguk #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jungguk #bts fan fiction #fan fiction #fluff #angst #bts x you #Jungkook x you #bts x Y/N #Jungkook x Y/N #jungguk x reader #jungguk

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pllandcompany · 6 years

Text

Out Loud (Part Two)

Summary: Hospital!AU. The aftermath.

Warnings: talk of gun violence/injuries, mention of blood, mention of medical procedures, life or death situations, mention of anxiety, depression and past suicidal thoughts, mention of past addiction and drug use, flashbacks/PTSD symptoms

Pairings: QPP Moxiety and budding romantic Logince

Tagged: @ziallwarrior @thefallendog @jakesmolbean @a-ghosts @band-be-boss-blog @thecatchat @flyingfreeyt @apologieslogan

Notes: The cliffhanger meets its resolution! (I know, I was evil for that, I’m kind of sorry.) I figured the boys have been tortured enough; let’s let them heal…mostly. The end does get a little intense. Also, I made use of a certain slow-voiced short character....wink wink! As always, please heed the warnings and enjoy!

Roman shifted uncomfortably in the chair across from the therapist’s desk. His bruised ribs were still sore from the surgery to remove the small piece of metal that threatened to take his life. He shifted again, welcoming the pain that came with each movement.

It was a reminder that he won. A reminder that he was still alive.

“Dr. Courtland? Are you all right?” Roman shook his head, the voice jolting him out of his thoughts. “Of course, Nate. I’m here, I’m with you.”

The psychiatrist smiled gently at his colleague. “Now, Dr. Courtland, I know we know each other but you know that here I’m Dr. Christopher,” he intoned in that slow, gentle baritone that seemed to instantly put anyone at ease.

“But that’s such a mouthful,” Roman joked blandly. His affect had been intensely dulled as of late but that didn’t seem to off put the friendly therapist. “Well,” he began, “I suppose we can drop the formality for now. This is our third session. I’m glad you chose to come back in.”

“I’m a neurologist. Of course I value the importance of mental health. And we as a hospital went through a highly traumatic experience so it’s important to talk about how we’re feeling. I fully respect that, Nate.”

Dr. Christopher nodded, slow and thoughtful. “And how are you feeling, Roman? Are you respecting your emotions?”

Roman paused, the question catching him off guard. “I’m definitely feeling. Can’t speak on exactly what judgments I’m making on those feelings though.”

“And what do you feel?”

“Surprised, honestly. After getting the green light here, I was expecting to be antsy about getting fully cleared for surgery but I’m perfectly willing to wait for my physical.” Nate scribbled down a quick note before looking up. “Right, yes, that's the last step for you. Anything else?”

“I’m worried about Logan. Uh, Dr. Taylor, I mean.”

“I understand that you two have been seeing each other lately.” Roman tensed again, wincing when his ribs screamed at him. “Don’t worry, Roman. Patient-doctor confidentiality, remember?”

Roman allowed his features to fall into a gentle smile. “Yeah, we…we have. It’s part of why I’ve kept coming back even after you cleared me. I hoped that if he saw me healing in every sense of the word he’d be…motivated to do the same.”

“Do you think he’s not healing?

“He’s certainly not talking about it! To me, to anyone.”

“Well, he’s not known to be overly public about much of anything. Maybe he’s just the type that heals privately?”

“I’d be inclined to agree with you but he also won’t let anyone clear him for surgery. He just hides in the skills lab all day until his shift is done, maybe he’ll come out for a consult.” Roman sounded slightly panicked now. The astute therapist quickly sensed his distress and signaled him to breathe which Roman complied with willingly. Non-verbal communication of self-care seemed to work best with the neurosurgeon as verbal orders occasionally made him feel patronized. Nate had learned this the hard way in session one and since then they developed a system of sorts that helped Roman to manage his rapidly shifting emotions. Taking his cue from Roman, Nate continued to speak. “I understand your concern. And yes, it does worry me that he’s refusing to operate but as hard as it is, you have to focus on you even when someone you love is hurting. Heal yourself first then you can help him. So I’ll ask again: How are you feeling?”

Roman swallowed thickly, nerves coiling in his belly. He couldn’t avoid the question now, it was too direct. He cleared his throat and shifted once again, the pain jolting through him like lightning. “How do I feel, Nate? I…I’m terrified…all of the time. Someone moves too fast next to me and I jump out my skin. Yesterday, Virgil dropped a chart and I hit the floor. I walk into a patient’s room and if I see their family there, my heart starts pounding out of my chest because I’m afraid to make even the slightest mistake in front of them lest they suddenly pull out a gun. I am a surgeon, I am supposed to be composed and-and strong and dependable but lately I am just…scared. So tell me, Nate,” he leaned in glaring at the therapist, “how do I fix that?” Nate leaned in, clasping both hands in front of him, a sign that he was considering his words carefully.

“It takes time but the first step to healing? You name it. You call the demon by its name. And Roman? You just did that.”

Roman slowly sat back, his glare fading into something much gentler, a fragile and silent hope blossoming in his heart for the first time in weeks.

****

“Virgil Davidson? Patton Parker?” The two doctors’ heads swiveled around in unison, causing Dr. Christopher to chuckle. They walked in hands intertwined, a symbol of both their combined trust and trepidation of this upcoming session. Nate gestured for the two to sit which they did while still conjoined, an action unmissed by the observant doctor. “Well, doctors, it’s good to see you both here.”

Patton chimed in first. “Um, not that I’m complaining but why are we both here? Virgil wouldn’t say much about it.”

Nate smiled reassuringly. “May I?” he asked, indicating towards Virgil who nodded, slow and small. “Well, Dr. Parker, in our last session Dr. Davidson expressed that there is something he’s wanted to ask you for a while but he hasn’t known how to articulate it. I suggested he bring you here to a safe space where we could work through any potential issues that arose.”

Patton turned to look at Virgil, concern and hurt etched into his brow. “Virgil…you know you can talk to me about anything. Not that I mind being here but you don’t have to bring me to therapy to confront me.”

“Is there something you’re concerned would come up in therapy? Something you may not want to confront?” Nate read between the lines of Patton’s reassurance like a book. Patton froze momentarily before breaking into a brilliant grin. “No, of course not! I’m an open book, Dr. Chris.” Nate nodded his face impassive while he notated the stilted manner of Patton’s speech. “Dr. Davidson, whenever you’re ready.”

Virgil took several calming breaths before he actually opened his mouth. “Pat…I wanted to ask you…if you were okay after…you know, after everything that’s happened.” Patton scrunched up his face in confusion. “Of course I am, Virge. You know that. You see me every day.”

“I know but…I’m worried. We haven’t slept with the light off since-“

“I know, Virgil.” Patton sounded suddenly defensive. Nate noted that he had dropped Virgil’s hand. “You know where I was.”

“I do, Patton. But…do you know who you are?”

“What? Virgil, you’re not making sense.” Patton was shaking his leg now, a rare signal of anxiety creeping in.

“Just hear me out, Pat. You delivered a baby by the light of a cellphone. You developed a system of silent communication on the fly. You calmed a panicking resident and saved the lives of everyone in that room. By all accounts, you are a hero. But the way you’ve been acting when you think no one’s looking…it makes me wonder if you think anything of yourself at all.”

The bouncing ceased to a halt. “I…I don’t know what to say, Virgil. I’m sorry.”

Virgil shook his head forcefully. “You don’t have to apologize. Just listen. You told me something afterwards. When that…man banged on the door to your room, you said that there was a point where you thought you would have to give yourself up.”

“Stop it, I don’t want to talk about that.” Virgil looked over at Nate in panic but the therapist simply nodded calmly to keep going. He then grounded himself once more and started again. "Pat, just hear me out, please. I only bring it up because I'm scared of how easily you could even consider giving up your life. I mean, did you even think of me?"

Patton's head turned back to the younger man on a swivel. "How could you say something like that? Of course I thought of you. Every second I thought of you. It would not have been an easy choice to make."

"But before-"

"That's not what this is about." Patton turned to Dr. Chris who seemed to be asking a silent question. "Dr. Chris, Virgil is referencing my first couple of years in med school. I struggled with depression and had some...scary thoughts. Never attempted anything and with help, I pulled myself out of it. That dark period...shaped me into the doctor that I am today. It made me value human life so much more, including my own. So no, Virgil, on this one, you're wrong. It's not that."

"Then what is it, Pat?!" The words exploded out of him before he could refine into something gentler. "I mean...I know it's something. You've held me together these past few weeks, sat with me through countless nightmares and anxiety attacks. But anytime I try to do the same for you or talk about what happened, you shut down and pretend that everything is fine when it's not. So please, talk to me. Why are you running from this?"

"Because I don't know how to do this, Virgil!" Patton shouted.

"Do what, Pat?"

"Any of this! I mean, depression I get but this...this fear? This anger, I do not understand how to deal with it at all." Nate perked up at the last thing Patton said. "Talk to me about the anger, Dr. Parker. Tell me the truth of what you're feeling."

There was a long, pregnant pause before the fetal surgeon started again, his voice raising with every word he spoke. "I...am angry for Melody! This was her first child, one she finally got to have after years of sacrificing her desires for her career. It was supposed to be one of the best times of her life but instead she now has this permanent and horrifying memory. I'm angry that her baby was born into violence when they should have been born into a world that's safe for them. I'm angry that some...person with an axe to grind decided to take the lives of thirteen of our friends and colleagues and leave the rest of us terrified for our lives! I'm angry that I'm so scared that I can't sleep without the lights on, that Virgil can't make it through the night without a nightmare, that Roman got shot and almost died, that Logan...I just...I hate what that man has done to our family! I hate him! And I hate myself for becoming the kind of person that hates people but I do and it makes me sick so I don't talk about it. I'm supposed to be grateful. I'm supposed appreciate human life but his life? The shooter? Well...I'm glad he's dead." Patton looked physically ill at that last admission. He turned to Virgil with a look of defeat on his face. "There. I said it. Happy now?"

Virgil sighed, actually looking relieved. He cuddled Patton's cheekbone with his hand and wiped his thumb across his lower eyelid. "Oh thank God," he breathed, "you're finally crying." Patton blinked a few times before he realized the magnitude of what he'd been holding in and finally chose to let go. Nate quickly conjured a box of tissues from the desk behind him and waited for the two doctors to compose themselves. "Damn it Virge," Patton chuckled through his tears, "you're brilliant, you know that?" Virgil shifted uncomfortably. It didn't go unnoticed by Patton. "Honey...were we maybe projecting when you said I didn't think much of myself?" Silence. "Virgil..you helped save Roman as much as Logan did, you know. You kept him alive and safe until he got there. You're a hero too."

"But if I had been able to help him more, Logan wouldn't have had to come at all and he wouldn't have had to go through-"

"Stop." Patton cradled Virgil's face in his hands. "What happened to Logan is not your fault. It is that man's fault. You did nothing wrong. You did everything you could and Roman is so grateful to you for it. You are good, Virge. You're so good. Believe me when I say that, okay?" Virgil nodded, blinking his own tears. Nate chuckled, drawing the attention of both doctors. "Well, you two are so good together, it seems like you hardly need me."

That day, both doctors walked with yellow slips marked with a "cleared" stamp.

****

In hindsight, maybe directly after a shooting wasn't the best time to start a relationship. Roman hadn't been able to resist the raven-haired surgeon who had been by his side since he operated on him, hoping beyond hope for him to wake up. When his eyes finally met with Logan's gaze of tearful relief, the sight broke Roman's defenses down and he'd ended up confessing the depth of his feelings right then and there. He would never forget Logan's earnest reply before the soft, passionate kiss they'd shared: "I don't ever want to be without you." It was the romantic's ultimate dream fulfilled, a beautiful moment born out of such unspeakable tragedy.

Such a shame that honeymoons always have to end.

Roman hadn't anticipated just how unspeakable their shared tragedy had become for his lover. He walked into the foyer of Logan's apartment, greeted by the same heavy silence that had prevailed over these past few weeks. "Logan?" He entered the bedroom to find the cardiologist still under his comforter with his back towards the door, obviously not having moved in quite some time. "You didn't go into work today." A statement, not a question. "I had no consults today. Didn't see much of a point." The monotone response only served to sink Roman's heart further. He sat on the opposite side of the bed from Logan, fighting the urge to deflate and join him. No, he would not sink into the encroaching darkness. He was going to help pull Logan out of it. "I had my physical today. I'm officially fully cleared for surgery.

Silence. Overwhelming silence.

Roman cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm scared to operate too. But we have to try. It's who we are."

"Thirteen people." It was barely audible but Roman caught it instantly. "Logan..."

"Thirteen people are dead because of the last time I operated."

"The last time you operated, one person lived." Roman was fighting back anger now; it wasn't fair for Logan to hurt like this. To hurt so much he couldn't see the good anymore. "You are not a killer. The man who shot those people is the murderer, not you."

"His name," Logan said listlessly, shifting to get up and walk to the bathroom, "is David Bacall." The door closed with such a finality that Roman barely fought the urge to scream. Instead, he sat there helpless, choking on the thickness of his inability to help console his partner. "I'll make us dinner," he said to no one in particular, leaving the room just as empty as he felt inside.

Once Logan entered the bathroom, he braced himself on the sink as the flashbacks began. He looked in the mirror at hollow eyes and sunken cheeks that morphed into the stone faced features of David Bacall in the background, a cold metal gun so close to his face his eyes crossed slightly to focus on the end of it.

"Mr. Bacall. You don't have to do this."

"I didn't want to do this. I came here for two people, not over a dozen. But it was brought to my attention that your beloved Chief Thomas was away on conference and I got...angry."

"Killing people doesn't solve anything. It doesn't help the anger. And it doesn't bring your wife back."

"YOU WOULD KNOW, WOULDN'T YOU?!" He shook the gun wildly, sending Logan's body into internal convulsions from the fear. His face didn't betray him, though, he remained visibly calm and collected. He had to if he had any shot of diffusing the situation. "I am not a killer," he whispered, "I am a doctor. I work to save lives, not end them."

"Oh really? And I quote. '33 year old Lauren Bacall came into Sanders-Stokes Memorial presenting with cardiac symptoms due to a complication from a heart defect. Protocol indicated a long but mostly effective procedure which I initially determined as the surgical plan. However, the chief of surgery took an interest in the case. Upon further research, he found a new protocol being tested at Baylor for the same defect. Recovery and operating times were shorter but the procedure was more complex and risky. The chief strongly recommended that I do the new procedure as he believed it was in favor of the patient. I agreed and adjusted my plan accordingly. Unfortunately, upon attempting the new protocol, the patient became unstable and subsquently died from cardiac failure.' That's exactly what you said at the deposition. And those sharks sided with you. But that's not the whole story, is it? You didn't tell them how you had reservations about the surgery, how you and Chief Thomas fought in your office over it."

"You shouldn't have overheard that."

"Admit it, Dr. Taylor. You didn't want to do the procedure."

"I agreed-"

"Against your better judgment, you chose to the procedure that killed my wife! And now you're responsible for all of this! Admit it! You did this! ADMIT IT! NOW!"

"I am not responsible-"

"YES! YOU ARE! YOU HAD A CHOICE AND YOU CHOSE WRONG! ADMIT IT!"

Logan couldn't find the words over the deafening sound of the safety clicking. Bacall's hands shook violently and Logan couldn't tell if it was from fear or determination. The tears choking his tone indicated both.

"You...killed my wife. Your hands...murdered her."

"No," Logan said weakly. "Her heart was too weak. She could have died regardless of what I did-"

"DON'T YOU DARE BLAME HER FOR THIS! YOU KILLED HER!" Bacall panted, breaths rushing from his lips like an angry dragon. Tears and sweat mixed together and ran down his face. He was unraveling; Logan knew it was any minute now before he snapped completely. Without warning, Bacall's face twisted into a sinister sneer, a look that unnerved Logan to his core. "Dr. Taylor...do you know else you've killed?"

"I have not killed anyone-"

"The thirteen people that were shot here today. You wanna know how you killed them? You see, the day my wife died...I died too. I stopped living. I stopped breathing. I became a shell and the only thing I could focus on was making things right. I had one mission: evening the score. Taking out the people responsible for the death of the best thing that ever happened to me. But there were so many...obstacles and I was so...angry because I couldn't find either one of you...until now. And now I have you right where I want you." Bacall calmly lifted the gun that was wildly gesticulating seconds prior, his grip steady and his aim true. Logan closed his eyes, acceptance breaking his heart into pieces. "So this...this is for Lauren."

A shot rang out in the air and Logan felt something warm spray across his face. He couldn't bear to open his eyes and see the damage Bacall had inflicted. Instead he sensed desperately for the blinding pain at the point of entry. Maybe he didn't fatally wound him, maybe he could get to Virgil...the pain never came. Was he already...no, that's his heartbeat, he's still alive. But why?

"Sir. Sir, are you all right?" Who was that? "Sir, are you hurt? We have to evacuate this part of the building, can you walk or do you need assistance?" Police. He was surrounded by police. He was alive. But why? And who's blood...? He slowly opened his eyes. Bacall's.

"Sir, can you walk? We have to move." Logan stammered before he finally found his voice. "N-no, I can't leave! My coworker is very hurt and I'm the only surgeon on the unit who can save him!"

"You know where he is? I'll escort you to him." Logan nodded and began running in the direction towards Roman, trying to shut out the sight of Bacall's lifeless body as he stepped over the growing pool of blood...

He blinked twice and was back in the bathroom. He touched his face, expecting his fingers to come away bloody. Instead, he found tears that turned into quiet, painful sobs, suppressing the sound with sternum-crushing force. The guilt swiftly stole his voice while the never-ending questions pounded against his brain, demanding answers. Why did he survive? Why didn't Bacall just shoot him? Why didn't he just do the other procedure? Why did he let the chief talk him into the risky surgery? Thirteen people would maybe still be alive if he had any sort of a spine and defended his plan. Thirteen people are dead because of him. He was responsible, he was guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty-

He couldn't take it anymore.

Frantically, Logan swung open the bottom cabinet and searched at the back of his cleaning supplies, finally producing a bottle of pills. He stared at the medicine for a indefinite amount of time, the inner debate growing inside his brain. Sacrificing years of sobriety for temporary relief from pain wasn't worth it. It wouldn't solve anything. He knew this all too well.

It didn't stop him from pouring three pills onto his hand and swallowing them whole.

#sanders sides #ss surgeon au #moxiety #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #angst #tw:/addiction #tw:/violence #my writing #sanders sides surgeon au

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deniscollins · 6 years

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Talking About Failure Is Crucial for Growth. Here's How to Do It Right.

If you were a new employee and failed on a project, what would you do: (1) internally process why you failed without asking others for input, or (2) ask your boss and co-workers “can you help me with this?” Why? What are the ethics underlying your decision?

We’ve all flopped on a big presentation.

After weeks of careful preparation and practice, you feel ready to knock it out of the park. But the day comes and, for whatever reason, every joke seems to fall flat, you bumble through all your numbers and your technology seems to be working against you.

The embarrassment and blow to your self-worth can manifest in unlimited ways — and sometimes it feels like it’s manifesting in all ways — and our bodies’ response to failure can even mimic that of physical pain, Bradley Staats, an associate professor at the University of North Carolina’s Kenan Flagler Business School, writes in “Never Stop Learning: Stay Relevant, Reinvent Yourself and Thrive.”

“We respond that way, and then we feel bad about responding that way, and so we try to cover it up instead of learn from it,” Mr. Staats said. “We shouldn’t be ashamed of the reaction. It is natural.”

Even though most people prefer to process failure internally and quickly move on for fear of causing a scene or seeming unprofessional, taking the time to reflect on and communicate about unwanted outcomes can go a long way in creating more congenial, trusting and ultimately productive workplaces.

But first, we have to talk about it.

Talking about failure 101

After failing — publicly or privately — it can be nerve-racking to initiate a conversation about what happened with your co-workers or boss,particularly if you’re still in the early stages of your career and don’t feel confident that you have a lot of professional capital to work with.

“I believe that almost everyone can benefit from sharing and hearing another perspective,” said Tasha Eurich, a Denver-based organizational psychologist. “It’s healthy to ask about what went wrong in a meeting. You have to engage other people in that process of learning.”

It can be tempting to hide behind the safety blanket of Slack or email, but having face-to-face conversations around failure can be especially effective in building stronger relationships among colleagues. The ability to convey tone, body language and other non-linguistic reactions often plays a positive and humanizing role in these conversations, and all of that is lost in email, Mr. Staats said.

It’s also worth putting thought into how you frame the incident: A long-winded, venting session can be cathartic, but it also has the potential to sound self-centered or melodramatic.

“Instead of telling a story of how horrible things went, frame it as, ‘Can you help me with this?’” Mr. Staats said. “We see that when you ask others questions, most people actually want to help.” He added that by asking a question, “we activate in them that spirit of helping.”

It goes both ways. When our co-workers ask us questions, we’re more likely to develop a positive opinion of them because we see that they’re humbly turning to us as someone they perceive as having valuable knowledge, according to Mr. Staats.

“When that happens, you actually take it as a compliment,” he said.

Use your failures to make friends

In a new working paper, co-author Alison Wood Brooks, an assistant professor at Harvard Business School, found that discussing failures can help to humanize the sharer by making them seem more approachable and relatable in the workplace. It also generally increased levels of so-called “benign envy,” which can motivate and drive employees to perform better.

However, the enemy of benign envy, according to the paper, is “malicious envy”: The type of envy others feel when we talk about our achievements much more often than our struggles. Projecting that image of perfection can be especially harmful for those in leadership positions who risk coming across as disingenuous, Ms. Brooks and her colleagues found.

A simple way to understand this is to look at the polished-though-unrealistic lives many of us present on social media.

“On Instagram and Facebook, people post these curated, shiny, beautiful personas of themselves, which contributes to this general belief that other people don’t experience as many failures as we do,” Ms. Brooks said.

Ultimately, the researchers found that talking about failure — both during the fact and afterward — can help to cultivate closer relationships with colleagues.

Fail productively

Other than helping you seem more approachable and likable, talking about failure and encouraging your peers to do the same can also make you a more efficient worker.

Amy Edmondson, a professor in leadership and management at Harvard Business School, has studied three different kinds of failures: preventable failure, complex failure and intelligent failure.

The latter two have the greatest potential to promote learning in the workplace.

“Complex failures occur when we have good knowledge about what needs to be done. We have processes and protocols, but a combination of internal and external factors come together in a way to produce a failure outcome,” Ms. Edmondson said. “These kinds of failures happen all the time in hospital care, for example, where there’s enough volatility or complexity in the environment that things just happen.”

Ms. Edmondson added that it’s difficult to assign responsibility for complex failures, but that staying vigilant about these kinds of mistakes can help improve existing processes.

Similarly, intelligent failure occurs when we’re working in areas in which we don’t have expertise or experience, or in areas that are uncharted in a broad, industrywide sense.

“We might launch a new product that’s never been launched before, and it’s a failure. We should tell everybody!” Ms. Edmondson said.

When an intelligent failure is buried or goes undiscussed, others risk repeating the exact same mistakes. The result? Increasingly inefficient organizations that replicate, instead of learn from, the same mistakes.

According to Sara Canaday, executive coach and author of “You — According to Them,” the rise of start-up businesses has made it much more acceptable to openly celebrate intelligent failure.

“Suddenly, people are saying things like, ‘fail fast or fail forward.’ Those are brand new words in the nomenclature of business,” she said.

By linking resiliency to innovation and growth, start-ups contribute to a general professional culture that frames failure as a positive learning experience. Likewise, many hiring managers are increasingly looking for resiliency in job candidates. That means it can be in your best interest to thoughtfully embrace the too-common interview question about a time you failed at work and how you overcame the challenge.

Ms. Eurich recalls an interview process in which a candidate was unable to acknowledge or reflect on any professional mistakes he had made.

“Against my advice, they hired him anyway,” she said. “He ended up being one of the most problematic employees both from a performance perspective and a legal perspective. Screening people around us for their willingness to talk about their failure is so important.”

Know your audience

Even when you grow comfortable with the prospect of sharing your failures at work, it’s important to remember that not every company has a culture that will welcome or even tolerate this kind of openness.

That’s not to say employees can’t create “safe spaces” among themselves to share their struggles. In fact, Ms. Edmondson encourages it, but factors like seniority are likely to impact how conversations about failure are received.

In a recent article, Ms. Brooks talked about the Princeton professor Johannes Haushofer, who published a “CV of Failures,” composed of a long list of “positions, grants and awards” that he had unsuccessfully applied for.

Dr. Haushofer said he first wrote the CV in 2010 “in response to a friend not getting something they tried out for, to comfort them.”

“In 2016,” he said, “somebody close to me didn’t get an opportunity they wanted, so I updated it and sent it to them, too. It seemed to get a positive response, so I kept updating it.”

In fact, most of the positive emails he has received since putting the CV of Failures on his website have come from younger Ph.D. students, who have expressed relief at finding solidarity for their struggles.

“If a first-year Ph.D. student who is relatively unknown published a CV of their failures, well, it might not work as well,” said Ms. Brooks. She acknowledged that talking about failure is riskier for young professionals across the board, but said that if junior workers find the right audience — namely people who are professional peers, not superiors — to talk about failures with, the trust-building and humanizing benefits are worth it.

“If you’re having lunch with some of your peers, then revealing failure is a great strategy to induce levels of liking by reducing malicious envy,” Ms. Edmondson said.

Opening up about that presentation gone awry can be a gamble, but it’s one worth making as long as you’re making it intentionally. (Especially if you’re sick of getting left off the post-work happy hour email invite.)

#Failures

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shiningamongdarkness · 5 years

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Chapter 12. Move with caution

Shining among Darkness

By WingzemonX

Chapter 12 Move with caution

Matilda felt exhausted that morning, so much that she almost fell asleep in the elevator. She was nodding a little during the entire descent until she was shaken by the beep announcing the arrival on the low level. Between talking to Dr. Armstrong to explain in detail everything Doug had communicated to her, then ask for help to provide her with some additional information about it at the Foundation, and also do her own research online... the truth was that she had hardly slept, and only until then did her body begin to resent it.

She was definitely not in a position to drive an hour on the road, but if she wanted to arrive on time at the hour she had agreed with Cody, she would have to leave now. She didn't even take breakfast, and instead, she just filled her thermos with coffee from the hotel dining room, and immediately went to her vehicle. Her mother would have been very angry with her if she had heard about this, so it would be better not to tell her.

The coffee, as well as some music resonating in the stereo of the rented car, seemed useful in keeping her awake enough to prevent a crash. In fact, she was lucky; much of the road she traveled almost alone. Upon entering Portland, it was when traffic hampered it a bit, and the alternatives offered by the GPS did not seem entirely favorable.

By mid-morning, and between twenty and thirty minutes after the coffee was finished, Matilda was already moving along the street of the Starbucks which she would meet her old friend. She parked on the sidewalk in front of the place, but before turning off the vehicle and getting out, she took a quick look at the dashboard clock; It was twenty-eight minutes past eight; perfect time to make the call she had been procrastinating throughout that morning; and no, it was not the call to Eleven, but another that she knew would end up being a shorter drink, but more bitter than that.

The psychiatrist selected the Eola Hospital number from her contacts, along with Dr. Scott's extension, hoping he was already in his office and did not have to call him directly to his mobile phone. The right thing would have been to call him long before to tell him about her express trip. However, her head had been a suitcase of stuff from the moment she touched that photo, going through the call in which Doug's death was suddenly informed, until that exact moment. And, of course, there was the fact that it was a call that she didn't want to make at all but was necessary; more for Samara than for Dr. Scott, of course.

Luckily, if it could be called that, the doctor was already in his office. Matilda did not go around much and informed him about the matter directly. And as she anticipated, he didn't take it all right. The day before, Matilda had promised to share with him a report of everything she had observed during that time with Samara. And obviously, he interpreting this change of plans at the last moment as an excuse to take back that obligation. Little he cared about the fact that she had used the death of a fellow psychiatrist as her motive.

"You and I had a deal, Dr. Honey," John said in the phone, while she got out of the vehicle with her briefcase in hand and her bag on her shoulder.

"And I didn't say I wouldn't do it, I just won't be able to today." Matilda crossed the street quickly while the traffic light in the corner was red. "I think that what I am telling you clearly falls into the category of personal emergency."

"How convenient.

"There is nothing convenient in this," she replied sternly. "A colleague died, in case it was not clear."

"A week ago, as I understand it."

Matilda had just opened the cafeteria door when she heard him say it, taking her a little out of her serenity. She hesitated for a while on how to react but pushed herself to do so.

"Did you know about this?"

"Sure," said the good doctor, remarkably indifferent. "I didn't know him in person, but he was acquainted with some friend. The question is, why didn't you know until now if you were such colleagues?"

Matilda felt the immediate impulse to answer a couple of things to that hurtful comment; a couple of things that her mother would surely not approve at all. But, as always, she had to take a deep breath and stay as calm as possible. Sooner or later that would stop working, she was sure.

She looked around the store once inside, until she saw her friend, Cody, sitting at a round table on the right side, with two paper cups on it. The place was relatively alone, although with enough people to feel moved. Cody also saw her from his seat, perhaps since she entered, and greeted her with one hand; she returned the greeting in the same way and approached him.

"Listen, just tell Samara that I will see her at night if possible, or tomorrow without fail."

"Now I am your messenger boy?"

"Don't push me, Scott," Matilda snapped, somewhat higher than she should. "I'm not at the mood this day."

"That's not new."

She didn't think it was possible, but that morning the good doctor was even more desperate than usual.

"Just tell her..." Before she could say anything else, the communication was cut off, leaving her with the words in her throat, and silence on the other side of the line. Matilda lowered her phone incredulously, reaching to see how the screen showed that the call was over, before turning completely black. "He hung me up!" She exclaimed exalted, turning to see Cody, who had stood up once she was at his table. "I can't believe it. Is he twelve years old?"

Cody smiled funny.

"Bad start of the day?"

"I've had worse," she replied simply, and then allowed herself to place her briefcase on the floor next to the second chair at the table, and her bag on it. "I am really sorry. Have you been waiting for me for a long time?"

"No, take it easy," the professor replied, retaking his seat an instant after her. "The Uber left me not long ago."

"Uber can take you to another city?" Matilda questioned curiously, to which Cody shrugged.

"I suppose if the driver is willing and there are no more than four hours of travel."

"I will reimburse you, I promise."

"Don't worry about it now."

Cody took one of the two cups of coffee and putting it in front of her. To her surprise, they had written on the side with a black marker: "Matilda."

"I bought you a late coffee. Do you still like it?"

"Everything with caffeine is acceptable right now, thanks."

She had finished all the coffee in the thermos during the road, but that mattered little. She took the paper cup and took a small sip. Just what she needed, although perhaps what occupied the most was a breakfast.

"Thank you for coming, Cody, really."

"You have nothing to thank, Matilda. The boys of the Eleven Foundation must take care of our backs, don't you think?"

Cody's tone seemed somewhat sarcastic, although Matilda supposed he was trying to be funny. Anyway, she managed to draw a smile on her lips as she drank her coffee. Cody smiled back, but his expression became serious almost immediately.

"I couldn't tell you last night, but I'm sorry about what happened to your friend."

Matilda sighed, somewhat uncomfortable at the mention of that subject, she had to accept.

"Thank you. I hadn't talked to him in years, and the truth is that I still have troubles locating him in my memories. I am ashamed to say it, but I had to look for him on Facebook to be able to clearly remember who he was. But it is still something shocking... that a person speaks to you for a minute, and shortly afterward simply... is no longer there."

Cody looked at her somewhat strangely. Matilda's gaze had focused on her coffee cup, which she moved slightly with her fingers to spin it. Cody may not have the ability to read people's minds and intentions, but he seemed to perceive that she was not talking directly about her deceased colleague.

"Matilda?" He exclaimed after a while in which Matilda had remained silent. His voice made her react and looked up again.

"I'm sorry..." she hurriedly apologized, and immediately began to check her briefcase to take out a folder in which she had several sheets printed on the hotel before leaving." Last night, I talked to Dr. Armstrong, a Ph.D. professor, and asked him to tell me everything Doug told him about this case. Also, I asked the Foundation to investigate everything possible in this regard as well and send it to me as soon as they could."

"Did you talk to Eleven about this?"

The mere mention of her mentor made her shiver for a moment, but she immediately recovered.

"Not yet," she replied blankly.

"Why not?"

"Because it is complicated." She took the file and placed it in the center of the table. "Right now, I think she feels I can't handle alone the case of the girl I talked to you before. And if she also finds out that I'm getting into another matter at the same time, she'll think it more."

"So you asked for help to the Foundation Trackers without telling Eleven?"

Matilda detected a certain tone of recrimination in him, which was not precisely disguised.

"I didn't say it was commissioned by Eleven," she justified herself, a little defensively. "No one questioned me, so I didn't lie to them."

"Of course they didn't question you, we all know you're Eleven's favorite, and disobeying you is like disobeying her."

"What?!" Matilda shook a little when she heard such a statement. Babbling, doubtful of what to answer, and had to take a second to take a deep breath and calm down. "That is not true!"

"Whatever you say, boss," the glasses boy replied, smiling playfully and raising his coffee toward her. "What I want least is to contradict you."

Matilda's cheeks turned red at once.

"Leave that. Yes, I will tell Eleven everything, but when we know more about it."

Matilda was stunned. That was the perception that the rest of the people of the Foundation had of her? She felt again like at school, when in each classroom she was her classmates, most of the time older than her, accused her of being the teacher's favorite, and even it’s pet, just because she applied more effort and dedication to studies than them. But that was the first time she heard someone calling her "Eleven's favorite," and of course it wasn't right; if so, why would she have said she was not qualified to handle that case? Or... hadn't she said it exactly?

She began to wonder for a moment if perhaps she had overstated her reaction to her mentor's words. It is said that brilliant people, colloquially called "geniuses" for stating the friendliest nickname, are not able to deal with criticism very well. She never considered herself of that type of person, but maybe it could be true depending from who in particular came such criticism. Anyway, she tried to quickly get rid of those thoughts that the only thing they did was distract from the important.

Matilda cleared her throat then and retook a deep breath to regain her composure.

"I didn't think the Trackers were going to find much, but in fact they did. Look."

Matilda slipped the file a little towards her partner, who took and opened it, keeping an eye on it. It took a few minutes, but Matilda managed to notice how Cody's expression reflected the feeling of confusion and haste she had had the first time she read it.

"All these cases...?" Cody murmured, and although he failed to finish his question, Matilda answered with a resounding yes.

"Do you think the same as me?"

Cody kept reading for a while longer and then left the file on the table again. He removed his glasses and stared thoughtfully at his own drink.

"A shining that gives her the ability to reach people at a distance, like Eleven," he concluded quietly, and Matilda nodded; it was the same as she had thought. "But to affect people in this way, it has to be something else."

"Like an illusionist, right?" Not like you, but something more conventional."

"She would have to have a much higher capacity than just conventional. I had never met an illusionist who could affect someone without being in front of him. It would be a combination... quite creepy."

He put on his glasses again and took a couple more sips of his coffee.

"It could be something new that we have never seen before, like your other case. But whatever it is, it's hard for me to believe that a ten-year-old girl can do that..."

"You and I were younger when our skills strengthened," Matilda said calmly, but Cody shook his head slowly.

"I didn't mean precisely her ability, but..." He then extended his hand to the file, opening it, right in one of the newspaper reports that spoke about a person killed in a horrible car crash in which his body literally had been shattered," such acts..."

Matilda was silent, feeling the weight of those words fall on her head and shoulders.

"A shining like this, in a person with psychopathy… It could be something very, very dangerous…"

"Let's not draw conclusions yet," the psychiatrist said, closing the file again on her own. "The APD thing was just a Doug theory; it might not be that."

Cody looked at her incredulously.

"You say a kid could do that to so many people without having some kind of disorder?"

Matilda looked away and shrugged slightly.

"I just say that I prefer not to label anyone until we completely review the facts."

Cody leaned back as a self-reflection to her comment.

"You're right; I'm sorry," he said slowly, and continued to drink his coffee, somewhat embarrassed. "Do you know where she is now?"

"Not exactly. Last night I tried to contact the social worker in charge of her case, but it was a bit difficult. I gave my number to her supervisor, but I haven't received any call. Maybe we should go to Family Affairs personally."

"Well, let's do it," Cody agreed, and immediately took his cell phone to find out how to get to those offices. His expression, however, reflected concern. "But if that is what we believe... we must move with caution."

"That's why I have you here with me," Matilda joked, winking at him. "With you by my side, I have nothing to fear from any illusionist, right?"

Now it was Cody's turn to blush, although he tried to hide it by crouching his face to the phone.

After finishing their coffees, and Matilda a Muffin to fill her stomach, they took a taxi to the Family Affairs and Children's Services offices, to look for Adrian Wayne, the man Matilda had spoken to last night. However, upon arriving at that site, Matilda and Cody would find out about some more than rugged events that happened just that night, and that Mr. Wayne was not there at the time.

— — — —

Adrian Wayne was the chief supervisor at Portland Children's Services, at the downtown's offices. He was an Afro-American man, tall and of medium build, very short curly hair, almost shaved. He and Emily Jenkins had started working on this job at nearly the same year and had been close friends for a long time. When the opportunity arose, any of them was a candidate to be promoted to supervisor, but Emily gave him the place even before the contest began. Wayne never knew for sure why, but he assumed that she was already dealing with enough bureaucracy in her current position to also get involved in administrative matters. Luckily, Wayne wasn't afraid of such challenges. The long road he had traveled from his parents' modest house in New York to there, he had made with his own feet and carved with his own hands. But of course, it would be quite superb of him to deny the tremendous additional support he had received from the people he appreciated along that path; precious people like his parents, like Emily, or like police officer Mike Barron, a trustworthy and straight man who had become almost like a second father to both Emily and him.

And now, one of those precious people for him had just died just last night; and while driving to his office that morning, he was unaware that another one of them was one step away from following the same fate.

He was already less than eight minutes away when his phone began to vibrate inside the pocket of his bag. He maneuvered as he could the steering wheel with one hand, while with the other, he took out the device. He slowed down a bit so he could put one eye on the screen and another on the road. However, all his attention had to focus on the screen once he noticing the name displayed: R. Vazquez, abbreviated from Robert Vazquez, homicide detective, colleague, and Mike's friend, and liked to think that his as well.

He felt a small lump in his throat when he saw that name again among his incoming calls. Vazquez had been precisely the one who spoke to him last night to notify him of what happened with Mike, and he had the horrible feeling that he was now calling him to share another misfortune. The best scenario, on the other hand, was to assume that he just wanted to give him more detail about Mike or his wake.

He answered the call and put it on the amplifier so he could listen to it in the speakers of his car via Bluetooth, while still driving.

"Hi, Vazquez. I hope you're better this morning," Wayne greeted in a tone that tried to be jovial, but not too much considering the situation.

"On the contrary, I am afraid," replied the speaker, the detective's rather serious voice. "I don't know if you were informed already, but if not, I thought it was better to call you."

"Is it about Mike?"

"No," Vazquez replied dryly. "Or at least, I still don't know. It's about Emily Jenkins, Mike's friend who works with you."

Wayne was stunned; he hated being right in his horrible feelings.

Vazquez briefly told him about the situation, about what happened at the pier with Emily and the girl she was in his care. Wayne, incredulous, mentioned that he talked with her a little after Mike's new, but her reaction at that time was not even close to being able to give some clarity to such a confusing situation. The police officer also informed that both were at the Providence Medical Center. He was there too, waiting for either of them to react and be able to take her statement. Without his request, Wayne immediately turned around, taking the lane in the opposite direction he went initially, to go to the hospital now.

On the way, he telephoned Nancy Strewell, his partner in the Adoption Department, and who was in charge of Lily Sullivan's case to find her a new home. The last thing Emily had informed about it was that Nancy had already found a family interested in adopting Lily and she wanted to introduce them that same Friday. Given the situation, however, it didn't hurt to inform Nacy about it. She was really shocked and worried about what Wayne told her. He was not able to say so much since he had to have his attention on traffic, also to the fact he still didn't know much either. He also informed Nancy about the hospital where Emily and Lily were, and that there, the police in charge of the case could tell them more. Nancy said she would go straight there, and shortly after they cut.

As soon as the call ended, the music of his cell phone sounds again in the speakers. Half a song later, he decided to remove it because he was so involved in everything he had just been informed that he did not even pay attention to it. He chose better to search between the radio stations if there was any news that talked about what happened. It took a while, and he almost turned around, but he found a commentator's voice who spoke about an incident on the docks.

".. According to witnesses, the woman crossed the security gate with her vehicle at full speed and headed straight for the riverbank. Workers on the docks managed to rescue the woman and the girl, and immediately alerted the paramedics and the authorities. The state of both is still unknown to the public, as well as their identities. However, unofficial sources inform us that the woman could be suspected of having burned her own home a few hours before the incident, and escape from the police escort..."

"Burned her house?" Wayne released like a thought out loud. "For the love of God, Emily. What did you do?"

He still couldn't believe that any of that could be true. Emily? The Emily he knew? Burned her house and thrown into the river with a girl in her care? No, it could not be true. There must be some kind of misunderstanding, something that Vazquez or that commentator did not know.

"I'm a psychiatrist and colleague of Doug Ames," he suddenly recalled that he had spoken that mysterious woman the night before. "He called me a few days ago, just before he died. He wanted to ask me for help on this case, about the girl in this incident. I just found out about his death, and I need to talk with the social worker who took care of the girl. It's imperative…"

What was all that she said? What was the meaning of all that? Shortly after that call had entered, Vazquez's came in telling him about Mike, almost as if that had been some horrible omen. And now this was happening... Who was that doctor? Did she know what was going on? Did Doug know anything? and now he was dead too. The bodies seemed to accumulate around him for no reason, and he didn't understand in the least why...

Upon arriving at the hospital, he rushed through the emergency department to the small waiting room, next to the information and reception area. He looked around the room until he spotted Vazquez, talking on the phone while walking from side to side. Wayne approached him, and upon noticing the policeman indicated with his hand to wait a second until his call ended. Robert Vazquez was a tall man with brown skin and black hair, with Latin features. He had broad shoulders and a pair of scars not discreet on his face; one in the left eyebrow, and another in the upper lip, on the right side; the latter was the least visible unless someone paid due attention. Wayne always wondered what interesting story there would be behind them, but he had never dared to ask.

When his call ended, Vazquez put his phone inside his jacket's pocket. Wayne, for a few moments, could see his gun in the inner sheath, stuck against his right side. Wayne had never been a fan of weapons, not even a little, no matter how much his father had tried to be. Once his phone was in his pocket, Vazquez fixed his dark, hard-eyed eyes on the newcomer.

"Wayne," said Vazquez, expressionless greeted him extending his hand, which Wayne accepted.

"Vázquez, how are they?"

The detective sighed and ran his right hand through his hair, from front to back.

"The kid seems fine," he explained in a serious and severe tone, typical of detectives with more age and experience, although he still wasn't even thirty-five. "She swallowed some water, but they are watching her. Your employee... she doesn't react. They say she fell into a coma."

"My God," Wayne said, stunned. "In the news, they say she set her house on fire and then threw herself into the river with everything and her car deliberately. That's right?"

"I don't have all the details about the house yet, and it seems that firefighters are still deliberating. However, everything seems to indicate that the fire started from the inside, with gasoline as a catalyst. I was talking to my partner a few seconds ago, and he told me that an employee at a gas station in the center said he had filled a gallon to a woman whose description matches to her. On the river, the officers escorting them to the headquarters declared that she deliberately deviated from the route, and apparently witnesses saw her driving erratically along the highway. The dockworkers claim that the car crossed the safety grid at full speed, without even stopping. You know that I don't usually believe in the press, but in just a few hours there has been enough evidence to prove that its version is correct."

"It can't be," Wayne said, still skeptical, and allowed himself to sit in one of the waiting chairs. "What the hell happened last night?"

"I don't know. First about Mike, and then this." Vazquez then sat down in front of him. "You told me you talked to her last night."

"Yes, to tell her about Mike."

"How was she? Did you hear her altered?"

Wayne didn't know how to answer that. Altered? He wasn't sure if he could describe her that way, but calm was definitely not the right description either.

Before he could answer anything, he saw someone out of the corner of his eye, and by mere reflex, he turned in that direction. He immediately recognized Nancy, a thin, short woman with dark blond hair and black eyes. She wore an executive style suit of pants and a black jacket and was carrying in her arms a briefcase, a bag, and coat. Seeing him, she approached them, resonating her high heels against the floor, and both men stood up.

"Wayne," Nancy exclaimed, just before giving him a light hug as she could.

"Nancy," Wayne returned the greeting and hug, then separated. "He is Detective Robert Vazquez. He was Mike's colleague."

"Nice to meet you," Robert murmured, equally devoid of much emotion, and also extending his hand.

"The same," said the woman, notoriously affected. "What is happening?"

Wayne gave her a quick synthesis of everything Vazquez had told him, and the policeman complemented it with some details as well. Nancy reacted with the same disbelief as Wayne.

"I can't believe it. Mike killed himself, and Emily burns her house and throws herself into the river? All the same night? How did all this happen?"

"Mike didn't kill himself," Robert declared firmly, and even some aggressively. "Don't say that again."

Nancy and Wayne exchanged an intriguing look.

"Do you think he was murdered?" The dark-skinned man crossed his arms.

Vazquez let out a deep laugh, and then scratched his nose with a finger, and gave a big breath of air; apparently, he had some allergies.

"The bosses don't, but I'm sure something else happened. You knew Mike. He was a religious man, he loved his family. Why would he shoot himself in a parking lot? Why would he do that to Madeline and the children?"

Wayne could not pretend that he disagreed with his claims. Mike, a detective, dedicated to his work, his family, and his faith... definitely did not seem like the kind of man who would do something like that suddenly. But, if it wasn't that... what could it have been? Wayne's mind began to work in a forced march.

"And then this," the policeman added, pointing toward the hallway. "Do you really think it's a coincidence?"

Coincidence? No, two misfortunes occurred the same night, the possibilities dictated that there had to be a relationship between them. Wayne moved a little away from them, turning away. The last weeks began to pass in quick motion in his head, including all the strange and suspicious events, or out of the place that he had simply chosen to ignore, turn to the other side and pretend that he had not seen anything... but that now they began to make enough sense.

"What are you trying to say, officer?" Asked Nancy, confused. "Do you think Emily had something to do with Mike's death?"

The brown-skinned man ran his hand through his hair again, perhaps as part of some kind of nervous tic.

"I don't know. I only know that Mike Barron didn't commit suicide, and in that, I would bet my life. And although I don't know what exactly, I also know that something is happening here, and we do not see it.

"It's the girl," they heard Wayne muttering suddenly, drawing their attention.

"What do you say?" Nancy asked. Wayne then looked up at them again.

"Lily, the girl in Emily's care, the one in the car. She somehow has something to do with all this."

Vazquez raised an eyebrow in bewilderment, and Nancy was not entirely far from it.

"That's ridiculous," said the social worker.

"Ridiculous?" Wayne's tone suddenly took a much more determined stance than before. "Two good friends are dead, and a third is in a coma, and it all started when that girl appeared."

"Two?" Said Vazquez curiously. "Which two? Who is the other?"

"Doug Ames. He worked as a Child Psychologist with us. He died a week ago..."

"In an accident in his bathroom," Nancy interjected before he went on. "He slipped and hit his head."

"No, that's what everyone supposes because the police never determined something else."

"Because maybe there wasn't something else!" Nancy snapped, somewhat annoying. She allowed herself to leave her things on one of the chairs.

"What about Diego?"

"Who is Diego? Vazquez intervened again, who looked more than interested in everything they said. Wayne was about to answer him, but Nancy stopped him.

"No, enough, Wayne. Just listen to what you say. What happened with Diego's parents was a terrible thing, but it was an act perpetrated by a child with problems, which has nothing to do with this."

"Maybe we have another girl with problems here, and we don't know," Wayne added, notoriously defensively.

"Hey, calm down, friend." He heard Vazquez speak at his side, placing a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"You don't know what you say, Wayne," Nancy continued, who also seemed aversive. "Doug's was an accident, we still don't know what happened to Mike, and I assure you that nobody forced Emily to jump into that river. Emily was acting very strange for days, I saw it myself. Evidently, Doug's death affected her more than we expected, and she almost took that poor girl in despair."

"She's right, Wayne," Vazquez said. "All this is strange, but you don't have to lose your mind and make baseless accusations."

"No, you didn't know Emily like me," Wayne said, quite sure. "She is one of the strongest women I know. Burn her house, jump into the river in her vehicle. She would never do something like that!"

He raised his voice of more, and that clearly had disturbed a little the solemn and quiet space of the living room. He also won some inquiring looks from the nurses. Wayne took a deep breath, trying to calm down a little, before continuing to speak.

"Listen, I won't say I know what's going on here; I think none of the three can say that. But whatever it is, it has to do with that girl. Doug, Mike, Emily; they all knew it, and now they are dead or in a hospital bed. And last night I received a call from an alleged doctor whom Doug had contacted regarding Lily, and she was urged to speak with Emily. Do you also think it was a coincidence?"

"Which doctor?" Nancy questioned, more involved than before. "What are you talking about? Who was?"

"She told me her name... Her last name was Honey," he began to feel his jacket and the pockets of his pants. "Her number... she gave me her number. She asked me to pass it on to Emily."

He took his wallet out of his left pocket, and then a yellow post-it where he had written Matilda's number. He then extended it to Vazquez, who analyzed it for a few seconds, before putting it in his own pocket.

"I'll investigate it."

"Listen to yourself," Nancy said forcefully, but not enough to be reprimanded by the nurses. "I know you two are affected by all this, and I understand it. But don't want to take it out with an innocent. Let us first wait for the investigation of what happened to give us some light." She turned to Wayne, looking for something common sense on his part. "Meanwhile, we have to decide what to do with Lily. This Friday I was going to take her to meet a new couple who wants to adopt her, but given the circumstances, I'll have to delay it."

Wayne nodded, and then ran his hand across his face, carving it.

"It will be the best. I don't think we want to put her in another family until I'm sure she has nothing to do with this."

Nancy snorted annoyed but restrained herself from making any other comment.

"While I will try to find out who this Dr. Honey is," Vazquez pointed out, and immediately took out his phone intending to make another call, but failed to make it.

"Not necessary," they heard someone say behind their backs, and all three turned at the same time. Entering through the door of the room, and walking straight towards them, they saw a woman with brown hair and blue eyes, and a young and thin man, with blond hair and glasses. The woman stood directly in front of them, with a very firm presence in her posture. "Sorry for the intrusion. I am Dr. Matilda Honey. He is my colleague, Professor Cody Hobson."

The thin man just smiled and nodded.

"You were the one that called last night?" Said Wayne, somewhat surprised.

"Yes, Mr. Wayne, it was me," the woman replied calmly. "In his office, they informed us of what happened to Miss Jenkins and told us that we could find you right here. We hope not to arrive at the wrong time."

Wayne didn't answer anything, but Nancy prepared to step forward on behalf of everyone.

"What do you want?" She questioned them, almost like an accusation. "Why were you looking for Emily and Wayne?"

Matilda rearranged her bag on her shoulder because it was falling a little. She then returned to her secure and firm posture, and to her stoic and calm gaze.

"We need to talk about Lily Sullivan. In a private place, preferably."

Nancy turned to see the other two. It seems like they didn't understand where that was going at all, and she was in a very similar situation. However, Wayne seemed the most intrigued and eager to hear what those two strangers had to say. Some of this could perhaps give you clarity.

END OF CHAPTER 12

Author's Notes:

—Nancy is a secondary character of Case 39 movie, in charge of finding a foster home for Lily. As we didn't see so much about her, I will take some freedoms about her personality and history.

—Robert Vazquez is an original character of my creation. Although he is based on the context of the Case 39 movie, he is not a character that has appeared directly or indirectly in it.

#Matilda Wormwood #matilda #cody morgan #Before I Wake #wayne #Lily Sullivan #case 39 #shining among darkness #resplandor entre tinieblas #wingzemonx

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createdbybrynn · 7 years

Text

You’re A Father, Larry

by Brynn Hinnant

Quick Side Note:

Okay this is the short story I wanted to post 4 years ago about a father who’s tired of his child’s Harry Potter obsession. I’m gonna work my way up to posting current work but for now enjoy!

“Dammit Andrew! What have I told you about leaving your broomstick on the stairs?”

Andrew stuck his head out just enough to see his father gripping the railing for dear life. His dark brown hair perfectly covered the ruby red lightning scar he drew earlier in his mother’s favorite lipstick. “Sorry dad, I should I say Uncle Vernon,” said Andrew his attempt at a British accent.

“Cut the Harry Potter crap and get ready!” Larry picked up the broomstick and sighed. He didn’t understand his son’s insistence on pretending to be fictional characters. It all started when Andrew was five and he watched Superman for the first time. He spent 3 months running around in nothing but a sheet, underwear, and the letter S taped to his chest. The phase stopped when he attempted to fly from his tree house to the Toys R Us a few blocks down. If it weren’t for Andrew’s greatest kryptonite, gravity, he’d still believe that he was Superman.

Being vulnerable didn’t crush his imagination. In fact, it made Andrew want to be a hero even more. In the course of 5 years, Andrew’s alter egos included Wolverine, Iron Man, Captain America, Luke Skywalker, Spiderman, Hercules, James Bond, Batman, and Ash Ketchum.

His family thought it was cute that Andrew was very creative at such a young age, everyone except for Larry. He couldn’t understand his son’s need to role-play. As a math professor, Larry is used to solving problems with concrete answers. Andrew, on the other hand, was a problem with no possible solution. And that scared Larry more than anything. No matter what Larry did, his son could not and would not snap out of his fantasy. He even tried punishing Andrew by banning him from watching television; however, Andrew’s Aunt Josie, while babysitting, left the television while Wonder Woman: the Movie was playing.

Needless to say, when Larry came to pick Andrew up from his sister’s house, he was shocked and pissed off when he was greeted by his son in shorts, a plastic tiara, and his sister’s bra. His Wonder Woman phase ended that exact night.

But nothing prepared Larry for Andrew’s Harry Potter obsession. For over a year, Andrew had convinced himself that he was Harry Potter, his father was Uncle Vernon and his Aunt Josie was Hermoine Granger.

Larry blamed Andrew’s mother for encouraging him through his phases, including Harry Potter. After all, she’s the one who bought Andrew all the books and stayed up all night sewing together a robe for him to wear.

After 10 minutes, Andrew entered the kitchen wearing circular glasses made out of black pipe cleaners, a wrinkled white button down shirt, a red and yellow striped tie, an oversized grey sweater with a Hogwarts pin fastened on the left hand side, khakis, and black high tops. As he twirled around, his signature robe levitated around him.

“You’re not coming to work with me dressed like that.” Larry sighed. Andrew’s school required that today be “take our child to work” day. This was a day Larry hoped to never face because he didn’t want his son to embarrass him.

“Dressed like what?” Andrew said innocently.

“I’m not doing this right now. My boss is going to observe me during one of my classes today and I can’t have you pretending to be that angst-ridden wizard kid in front of him. Just for today, can you please behave normally? Please.” Larry was at his wits end. He didn’t want to have to beg his own son, but if it meant Andrew would stop pretending to be a wizard for one day, he’d gladly put his pride aside.

“Fine,” Andrew said reluctantly. “I’ll blend in with you muggles.” He took off the robe and the pipe cleaner glasses.

“And the tie,” said Larry.

Andrew loosened his tie and removed it from his neck.

“And the pin.”

Andrew looked at his father with pleading eyes, but Larry wouldn’t budge. Defeated, he took off the pin.

“Now that’s better.” Larry felt more relieved. “Oh and one more thing...”

Before Andrew could ask what, Larry grabbed a handkerchief from the nearest cabinet, lifted Andrew’s bangs and wiped the lipstick lightening scar from his forehead. “Alright, let’s go.” Larry grabbed his car keys and headed for the door. He couldn’t wait to enjoy one day where he didn’t have to worry about his son and his alter ego.

Right when Larry opened the front door, Andrew grabbed his backpack to check if his wand was still there. Giggling to himself, he zipped his backpack up and hurried to meet his father at the car.

* * *

“That’s it! I’ve had enough!” Larry charged into the house. “I’m ending this fantasy of yours right now!” Objects trembled in fear as he raced up the stairs.

Andrew trailed behind him, apologizing for breaking his promise. His mind was scattered, trying to remember something in his books that could remedy the situation. But alas, reading Harry Potter hadn’t prepared Andrew for his father’s rampage.

A few hours ago, their day was running very smoothly. They arrived at Larry’s job, where he taught Calculus to college freshmen at UC San Diego. Larry nodded at his colleagues as he passed them by. One professor in particular saw Andrew walking at his father’s heels and wanted to strike up a conversation.

“Larry, is this your son?” Her beady eyes peered over her reading glasses to examine the young boy.

“Yes, he is.” Larry wasn’t in the mood to chitchat with anyone, especially with Professor Robin Delaney. She was an eccentric 56 year old woman who wore mumus with obnoxious patterns no matter what season it was and she could talk to you for hours about the same thing: her cats. If Larry had to listen to another goddam story about how her cat, Mr. Twinklebottom, could purr to the tune of Frank Sinatra’s “My Funny Valentine,” he swore he’d jump out the window.

Andrew hid behind his father. He didn’t want to speak to Professor Delaney either.

“Professor Delaney, this is Andrew.” He lightly tugged his son so that he would be in front of her.

Andrew looked stunned, as if he had seen a ghost. He couldn’t move. It was as if he’d been struck by a freezing charm.

“Andrew, say something.” Larry lightly tapped his arm.

Andrew shook his head. Embarrassed, Larry quickly apologized for his son’s rudeness and rushed him along.

“What do you think you’re doing, Andrew?”

“That was Professor Umbridge.”

“Who?” Larry soon realized his son was referring to a fictional character and added, “What did I say about that Harry Potter crap.”

“But…”

“No buts. This conversation is over.” They spent the rest of the walk to his class in silence. Larry hoped that Andrew would behave until after class. Then he’d drive Andrew back home.

For Larry, the classroom is the only place where he feels like himself. Here, he has complete control. At home, he feels lost. Ever since his wife walked out on him, he had to raise Andrew by himself. He knew being a father was tough; however, he never thought he’d be raising a son who can’t tell the difference between reality and fiction.

“Okay, now pick a seat in the far back of the room and stay quiet. Got that? This class is only an hour long. And then afterwards, we can go home.” Andrew nodded and chose a seat in the far right corner.

Larry took a deep breath and went to the chalkboard. He wrote down the lesson plan for the day. It was fairly short since he decided to cut out parts of the chapter. He then wrote down formulas that the class would need to memorize for the upcoming exam. Pleased with himself, he stepped back to view his work.

Students began to trickle into the classroom. Larry kept his eyes on his son to make sure he was behaving. Class would start in one minute and he hoped that his boss wouldn’t show up. After a slew of stragglers running to make it on time, Larry sighed in relief. He wasn’t coming after all.

Right as Larry opened his mouth to start teaching, his boss, Professor Geoffrey Bradbury, staggered in. He nodded at Larry and took a seat in the far back of the room, just a few seats away from Andrew. Professor Bradbury was a frail and lanky old man. His back was slightly hunch over and the lights in the room danced on his shiny, bald head. He didn’t let his age stop him from working. His body might be weak but his brain was still as sharp as ever. Larry respected and feared Professor Bradbury.

“Please don’t embarrass me,” he tried to telepathically tell his son.

With another deep breath, Larry jumped right into his lesson plan.

Class was going fairly well. For the most part, his students stared at the board and at Larry in confusion as if he was speaking a foreign language. Of course, there were other students who were preoccupied with texting and watching the clock. But Larry didn’t care because he was doing what he loved.

And then it happened. Somewhere between going over limits and answering questions about the upcoming exam, Andrew was gone and Harry Potter took over.

With his trusty stick/wand in his hand, he aimed it at Professor Bradbury.

“VOLDEMORT!” Andrew screeched. The entire class erupted in laughter. Professor Bradbury, on the other hand, was not amused.

“I beg your pardon?,” said Professor Bradbury. His breathing increased.

With the flick of his wrist, Andrew kept his wand pointed at Bradbury’s heart and shouted, “AVADA KEDAVRA!” And without a moment’s hesitation, Professor Bradbury clutched his heart and sunk out of his chair onto the floor.

At first, they all thought he was playing around. But Larry knew better. He raced to Professor Bradbury’s side.

“Someone call an ambulance!” The class was in chaos. Andrew was in the corner, waiting to see if “The Dark Lord” would strike back.

Larry didn’t know what would happen to Professor Bradbury but in that moment, he knew that this had been the last straw.

* * *

Larry swung open Andrew’s bedroom door and went straight to work. Anything Harry Potter related would be thrown out. First went the books, then the costumes. It was almost therapeutic for Larry. The snapping of his son’s twig wands made Larry feel powerful. His whirlwind of destruction didn’t stop at Harry Potter items. Larry wanted to, no, he needed to crush anything he could get his chalk stained hands on.

“Please! Stop!” Andrew yelled at his father. But he wouldn’t listen. Everything had to go. It was the only way to snap Andrew back into reality. He ripped Andrew’s posters and drawings off the wall and tore them up. The tiny pieces rained down to the floor. Larry realized he should have done this years ago. He should have never allowed his ex wife to corrupt his mind. He hated her. He hated what Andrew had become.

The damage was done. Andrew’s safe zone for creativity had turned into Ground Zero. Andrew collapsed onto the floor, grasping at what little was left of his drawings. Larry felt remorseful at first, but he believed it was for his son’s own good. He dragged out the rest of Andrew’s prized possessions and left him to cope with reality.

* * *

“I don’t know what to do, Josie. He won’t eat or talk. I thought snapping him out of his fantasy would bring me my son back. But instead, I think I’ve actually lost him.,” said Larry on the phone. He was actually worried about his son’s condition more than before.

“Well of course you lost him. By crushing his fantasy you’ve crushed his reality,” said his sister. “I can’t believe you did that to him.”

“So you want me to award him for almost killing my boss and embarrassing me in front of my students?”

“No, but if you gave him an outlet to express himself, maybe he wouldn’t snap in and out of fantasy land.”

Larry sighed. “You know I can’t do that.”

Josie paused for a few seconds. “Remember when you were seven and you wanted to be a race car driver? And you went to dad to ask if he could help you build a car. Do you remember what he said?”

“No not-”

“He said that was a waste of time and money and that you should stick to what you know, school.”

Larry lowered his dead down. He was thankful that she wasn’t in the room with him. “And that’s what I did.”

“I know. But Larry, don’t you see. You’ve turned into dad. He never supported our dreams and now you’re doing the same thing to Andrew. At least we had our mom to turn to. Andrew doesn’t have that.”

He hated to admit that she was right. Josie’s always right.

“So what do you suggest I do?”

“Be a father and support him.”

* * *

The night air was colder than usual, but that didn’t stop Larry from digging through the trash. It took him 2 good minutes to search through the cans of garbage to find Andrew’s Harry Potter book. He made sure to grab the first one. On the first page was a note written to Andrew from his mother. “May your life always be as magical.”

Everything about his son started slowly making sense from his obsession with Harry Potter to his need to live in a fantasy.

He thumbed through the rest of the pages.

“233 pages?” Larry was shocked that his son had enough focus to sit down and read a book this long. He went back into the house. If he was going to read this entire book to truly understand his son, he was going to need patience. Patience and coffee.

* * *

The next morning was all a blur to Larry. Somewhere between flying on broomsticks and turning invisible thanks to a sheet, Larry gave up and fell asleep. As much as he wanted to enjoy the book, he just couldn’t.

He went into Andrew’s room to see him still on the ground. He saw that Andrew had attempted to piece his posters and drawings back together.

Larry gently nudged Andrew to wake up.

“Andrew. Andrew wake up, please. I want to talk to you.”

Andrew’s eyes slowly opened. His face was emotionless. His lively, amber eyes were now sullen from the tears he shed last night.

Instead of looking through Andrew, like he always did when his mind was racing a mile a minute, he looked straight at him. From Andrew’s facial features to the way his hair covered his forehead, Larry never realized how much he looked exactly like his mother until today.

“How I reacted yesterday was, well, it was wrong. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Andrew, just because I don’t understand you most of the time, doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” Larry handed Andrew his book back, “I think this belongs to you.”

A tiny smile emerged on Andrew’s face. He was happy to have back the one thing that connected him with his mom.

Larry not knowing what to say next, stood up and started leaving his room.

“I just want to be a hero,” said Andrew softly.

Larry thought carefully about his response. “You can be a hero without pretending to be a hero.”

“How? I’m not good at anything.”

“You have something that I wish I had when I was your age,” said Larry, “You have an imagination. You see the world differently than other people. You’re good at drawing and writing. And with those superpowers you can do a lot.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Smiling, Andrew went to go find paper and pens. He had a lot of work to do if he was going to save the world with his creativity.

Before Andrew left the room, Larry wanted to reach out and hug him the way that his father never hugged him. But he refrained from doing so and instead settled for bringing the rest of his son’s stuff back to his room.

#harry potter #hp #short story #createdbybrynn #fiction #writing #welp here goes nothing #it needs some work #but i kinda like it #okay enjoy

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kpopersanonymous · 7 years

Text

Exo: When you’re stressed

Suho:

You were reading the same paragraph for the third time and you still had no idea what it was about. You had exams coming up and you were learning like crazy, trying to cram an insane amount of information into your head in only a couple weeks time. You had even been neglecting your personal health trying to study, nourishment and hygiene only being your second priority. You yawned, thinking about how much sleep you had gotten in the past week. You could count the hours with your fingers. As you leaned back to strech your sore muscles, you felt warm, familiar hands wrap around your waist. “You’re still learning. Why am I not surprised?” Suho said, giving you a soft kiss on the cheek. “This exam is important. It makes up like half our grade.” You say, looking up at him. “Well, nothing is so important that you jeopardize your health for it.” He said, spinning your chair so that you could face him. “I bought us some take-away noodles and you a lavender scented bath bomb. I thought we could have dinner together and then... we could take a bath.” He winked. “But-” “No buts Y/n. If you keep going at this rate, you’ll burn out before you even take this exam. Now...” He said, scooping you up in his arms. “I’m going to make sure this night is full of relaxation and pleasure for you. I don’t want you to even think about studying for one second.” He whispered, softly kissing your lips as he carried you into the dining room.

Xiumin:

You slammed the door shut in frustration as you kicked off your shoes and threw your coat on a hanger. You had a big project due in a few days at work and your boss kept adding onto the workload. You had already been working overtime the past week and a half because the perfectionist inside you wanted to get everything done right and impress your boss and colleagues. Plus you also just wanted to show him that you were capable of handling jobs more complicated than making coffee or copies. You stormed into the kitchen to get some ice cream, because that’s what you needed right now: comfort food. Your head was still so busy as you grabbed the ice cream from the freezer that you didn’t even hear your boyfriend walk into the kitchen. He startled you as he wrapped his hands around your waist. “Bad day?” He asked, kissing you on the top of your head as he pulled you close to him. “The worst.” You said through a spoonful of ice cream. “I think what you need right now is a real meal,” He began as he took the ice cream from your hands. “I made your favorite. I’ll heat it up for you. Go sit down.” “Thanks Jagi.” You said, kissing his cheek. You watched him heat up the meal, realizing that it had been weeks since you two had spent more than five minutes together, both of you being extremely busy lately. He sat a plate of piping hot food down in front of you and stood behind your chair, placing his hands lightly on your shoulders. “Here you go baby. And while you eat you can tell me all about your day. You can complain to me all you want.” He smiled, lightly massaging your shoulders. “And while you’re doing that, I’ll give you a relaxing massage. And maybe afterwards we can take things up to the bedroom, where I’ll make sure all your troubles melt away.” He whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Baekhyun:

It felt like ages that you and Baekhyun had spent any time together, both of your schedules being packed full with projects and promotions. Tonight was no exception as you once again stayed longer at the office working on your latest project. You stared at your computer screen, exhausted from the lack of sleep you had been getting, your face clearly showing how over-worked you have been. The sight of a cup of hot coffee being held in front of your eyes pulled you out of your trance. “I thought my baby might need some extra energy. And some coffee.” Baekhyun winked, handing you your coffee, sitting down in the chair next to you. “Thanks my love. What are you doing here? I thought you were busy.” You said, taking a sip of the hot liquid. “I took the rest of the night off because I missed you. We’ve barely seen each other in weeks.” Your boyfriend said, stroking your cheek. “That’s really sweet honey... but I have to work on this project.” You gave him a sad smile and started to turn back to your work. “Not on our coffee date, you aren’t.” He said, turning you to face him. “In fact, I think a change of scenery is necessary.” Taking your hand, he began to lead you up to the roof, ignoring your half-hearted protests. You stopped in your tracks as you saw the surprise Baekhyun had prepared for you. A table and two chairs were placed on the roof, candles lighting the way to your seats. “The perfect setting for a romantic midnight coffee date.” Baekhyun winked as you sat down. “When did you find the time to set this up?” You asked, incredulously. “I had some help from the other members.” He said, taking your hands in his. “Now let’s forget about everything and just enjoy each other’s presence.” You two drank your coffee, laughing and talking about the most random things. You felt the most energized you had been in weeks as you heavy-heartedly went back to work, Baekhyun not leaving your side. He sat you on his lap as you got to your computer, massaging your arms and shoulders as you resumed your work, saying encouraging words and throwing ideas into the room as he kept you company.

Chanyeol:

You threw your phone on the bed, frustrated at your friend for standing you up once again to hang out with her new friends. Everytime you tried to talk to her about how that made you feel, she would always say she was just busy or that you should hang out with her new group of friends to get to know them better. Even though you liked giving people the benefit of the doubt, you knew that her new friends weren’t to be trusted and you saw how they had changed her already after only a few short months. It hurt having such a good friend abandon you and treat you like dirt. You were on the verge of tears when you suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around your body, engulfing you in warmth. “Something you want to talk about Jagiya?” You heard the deep voice of your boyfriend ask. “Chan-” your voice cracked, “I don’t know what to do with her anymore.” You felt a tear fall down your cheek. Chanyeol wiped it away with his sweatshirt sleeve, trying to comfort you. “Maybe it’s time you let her go... If she would rather be with those people than with an angel like you, then it’s her loss.” He said, kissing you softly up your neck. “She isn’t worth all this pain you’re feeling. Especially if she isn’t even trying to fight for this friendship.” He whispered in your ear. “Maybe you’re right.” You said, reaching for your phone and deleting her from your contacts. You sighed a heavy sigh as you felt the burden being lifted off your shoulders. “Now Jagiya.” Chanyeol said, turning you to face him. “How about we cuddle up in bed and watch some Netflix?” He asked with a wink, you nodding in approval.

Kai:

A sigh escaped your lips as you put down your sandwich, unable to eat anymore because you were worried sick about your dog being in the clinic. It stressed you out knowing that your dog was sick and there was nothing you could do about it. It was an only-time-will-tell moment and you were tired of waiting for the doctors to call and tell you if anything changed. Kai noticed your lack of hunger and decided now was a good time to cheer his baby up. “Hey Jagi, what do you say we go outside and do something fun?” He asked, pulling you into an embrace. “I don’t know... I don’t really feel like it.” You sighed into his chest. “Well then, that’s the perfect time to do it!” He said, picking you up and telling you to get dressed. He was waiting for you outside by the car and opened the door for you. “Where are we even going?” You asked as you fastened your seatbelts. “You’ll see” Kai said with a wink. He drove to the shelter where you first got your dog and where you often come to volunteer when your schedule isn’t too busy. “Why are we here?” You ask hesitantly, stepping out of the car. “I thought we could play with some of the puppies! You know, to cheer you up!” He said happily, grabbing your hands and pulling you in the direction of the shelter. You two sat outside and played with the dogs, big and small, young and old, for hours. By the time you decided to head back home, you had almost forgotten about your dog’s situation. That is, until you got a phone call from the clinic on your car ride back home. You answered the call, your heart racing as you grabbed your boyfriend’s hand. Kai glanced between you and the road, trying to hear what the doctor was telling you. Your frightened features quickly faded and were once again replaced with a big smile as you thanked the doctor multiple times before ending the call. Kai looked at you. “Well?!” “The doctor said the treatment is going really well and they have high hopes of recovery!” You almost screamed out of excitement. “This calls for some celebratory ice cream!” Your boyfriend yelled, smiling brightly.

Chen:

You sat on your couch, laptop on your lap, refreshing your emails. You were awaiting an email from a prestigious art school in Europe you had applied for, hoping to get accepted into their music department. You had even sent an audition video with the help of your boyfriend Chen. He has been supporting you every step of the way, just like you supported him. He understood that this was your dream and was even willing to lead a long-distance relationship with you because he knew your heart belonged to him, just like his belonged to you. You nervously played with your hair as you refreshed the page for the thousandth time. “Jagi stop stressing so much. You’re starting to make ME nervous.” Chen said, not looking up from the game he was casually playing to pass the time. “I can’t help it. My entire future depends on this email!” You exclaimed dramatically. “What if they didn’t like my audition?” You asked, your voice cracking as you fought to keep tears from forming. Chen put down the controller and wrapped you in his arms. “That’s nonsense, Jagi. They would be very stupid to reject you, the second most talented singer in the world.” Chen said with a smirk as he kissed your temple. “Second most talented?” You asked, looking up at him. “I’m the most talented, of course.” He said, flashing you a smile. “Now...” He began, closing your laptop. ”Play with me. It’ll help take your mind off of everything.” He winked at you, handing you a controller. You laughed as you took it, starting a new two-player game. You two played for a few hours before you had gotten hungry and decided to go out to eat. Before you got changed, you decided to check your emails one last time, noticing a new one in your inbox. Your heart raced as you saw that it was from the art school. Shaking, you opened the email. It wasn’t until Chen shook your shoulder did you realize that you were crying. “What’s wrong baby?” He asked, worried. “I got in.” You whispered, the information slowly sinking in. “I got accepted.” “This calls for a celebration!!” He screamed excitedly, picking you up and spinning you in his arms.

Kyungsoo:

You let out a deep, heavy sigh as you throw yourself onto the couch of your living room. You had just gotten off the phone with your mother, who, once again, was comparing your life to that of her friend’s child’s life. They were the same age as you but, according to your mom, they were “succeding in life”. What does that even mean? You asked yourself as you rubbed your temples, feeling the impending stress headache coming your way. You loved your mom but sometimes she drove you to the brink of insanity. Kyungsoo heard you from the kitchen and walked over to you, gently lifting your head and placing it on his lap. “What’s wrong, dearest?” He asked, stroking your hair. “My mom” You sighed. “Has she been comparing you to that other person again?” He asked, slightly scowling in the process. You nodded. “She kept going on about how they had better notes, a better significant other, better job opportunities blah blah blah.” “Well, don’t listen to her Jagi! No significant other is better than I am!” You laughed warmly at him, placing a hand on his cheek. “How do you always seem to cheer me up when I’m stressed?” “I know what will make you even more happy.” He smiled, his face inching his way towards yours until your noses were almost touching. You looked up at him, a knowing glimmer in your eyes. “I’m making stir-fry for dinner.” He said, kissing your forehead. He heard an “Oh” escape your lips, causing him to smile into your skin. “Don’t worry. I’m saving you for desert.” He said with a wink.

Sehun:

You sat at your desk, looking at the pile of assignments due in a few days. You had been sick with a pretty bad cold for the last week and you felt good enough today to go back to your classes. However, seeing all the assignments you had missed and are supposed to turn in by the end of the week made you sick to your stomach. You sighed, knowing that staring at all the work was not going to get them done as you pull the blanket around you tighter and started with the assignment on the top of the pile. You had been working nonstop for hours when your boyfriend came home from practice. He expected you to already be asleep, so he was surprised to still see you sitting at your desk so late at night. “Why are you still up?” He asked, wrapping his hands around your shoulders. “I have so much work to do...” You tiredly said, quietly coughing at the end, hoping your boyfriend wouldn’t notice. He did notice. “Jagiya, if you keep this up, you’re going to get sick again!” He said, pulling you away from your work. “But these assignments are due in a few days. I’ll be fine.” You argued, coughing some more at the end. Sehun picked you up and carried you to bed, ignoring your complaints and struggles to free yourself. He tucked you into your shared bed tightly. “You need your rest now more than ever. I’ll join you in a minute.” He said, kissing you lghtly on your forehead. You knew it was useless trying to argue with your boyfriend, secretly glad he pulled you away from your work as you snuggled into the blankets. He dove under the covers a few minutes later, pressing his warm body onto yours. “I’ll come home a little earlier tomorrow and help you with the rest of those assignments. Two heads are better than one, after all.” He whispered, kissing you softly and humming you to sleep.

Lay:

You slumped against the wall with a groan, looking at your reflection from the mirror across the studio. You had a big dance recital coming up and you kept messing up your solo that you had worked so hard on to get. Soreness and weariness was creeping up your entire body because you had been working on your performance for over two hours after practice had already ended. I don’t want to let anyone down you thought as you started massaging your aching thighs. You were so deep in your thoughts, going over the choreography mentally, that you didn’t even notice your boyfriend come up to your side and started massaging your other thigh. “I thought I would find you here.” He said, not looking up at you as he continued to knead gently into the sore muscle. “Sorry, I didn’t expect it to get so late. I just couldn’t leave without having one small accomplishment.” You said, brushing a stray hair out of your face. Lay looked up at you, smiling lovingly, his dimples popping out. “It’s fine, my little perfectionist.” He said, touching your nose with his. “But you should know that you have already made huge accomplishments and that I’m am very proud of you.” “What accomplishments?” You ask, exasperated. “Well for starters, you got the solo you desparately wanted to get, all through your hard work. Plus your performance has gotten much better than when you started. And I think if you stopped thinking about everything and just follow the music, you’ll nail your solo.” Lay said, helping you up to your feet. “I don’t know abou-” You started to protest, but he pressed his lips to yours, silencing both you and your thoughts. “Don’t think, just dance.” He said, turning on the music. You closed your eyes and let the music completely take over your body and sure enough, you danced without fault. As the music faded, you felt your boyfriend’s hands wrap around your waist, attacking your face and neck with soft, approving kisses.

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ecotone99 · 4 years

Text

[RF] From being the football star to crying in the bathroom stall (GRAPHIC OVER 18 ONLY!!!)

I always admired my wife because of her tireless work ethic.

She was not only in charge of our house and our kids but she also made close to $200,000 a year in her sales job .

Her job was demanding and as long as she met her quota she was fine.

The territory she was assigned to was starting to run dry. She barely was making her quota and some months she was falling short.

My wife was starting to become more stressed out but she had a couple of women in her office that she considered her friends which made her job more tolerable.

My wife would text her work friends at night and they seemed to develop a bond outside of work.

As long as my wife was ok then I was ok.

At the end of every month, my wife, and her work friends would meet up at this local trendy bar / restaurant. Her boss and the spouses, including myself, would go as well.

I really hated going, but I knew I had to because it made my wife happy and created a better image for her.

My wife and I were in our 40’s and her boss was in his early 30’s.

He was gay and at a couple of the get togethers he brought a male friend.

It was starting to get close to the end of the month and I new that it was only a few days before I had to go out with her work friends.

My wife hinted that things were going really bad at her job. She said that she received a written warning for not reaching her quota.

My wife’s demeanor had started to change. She was so stressed out that she started to ignore our kids. I saw her starting to pull out her hair.

We were maxed out with the mortgage on our house. I had to consider that we possibly would default on our mortgage.

We owed more on the house than what it was worth, but our kids had a lot of friends in the community.

The economy was terrible and jobs had really shriveled up.

I was barely making it at my job and I was taking it day to day.

I got home from work and I knew I had to go out with my wife’s work colleagues and her boss.

My wife had really succumbed to her stress. She kind of jumped and got easily startled just by saying her name.

We both got dressed and in the car on the way to the get together she hinted that she might be terminated this week.

I thought to myself that we are going to have to walk away from everything and live with my parents where they had moved to Florida.

I felt devastated because my kids had made so many good friends, they were all doing so well in school and we all really liked the area.

We arrived at the bar / restaurant and I could sense that the mood was different than the countless other times we had got together in the past.

My wife looked horrible from stress and was unnecessarily laughing from nervousness.

I had to get away for a while and I decided to go to the bathroom to splash water on my face and just be by myself.

Shortly, after splashing water on my face my wife’s boss entered the bathroom.

He greets me and I really just wanted to choke him because I knew he was causing our lives to fall apart.

He asked me how everything was going as like he pretended that he didn’t already know.

I decided to be honest and I said “not very well”. He replied “oh what’s wrong?”

I exclaimed that my wife mental health was really deteriorating and she was uncertain about her future.

He then said “well about that” in a really snarky tone. He knew my wife was essentially out the door.

I eventually said how “how bad is it?” He replied “the situation could change in a matter of minutes”

I perked up thinking that perhaps there was going to be a merger occurring or my wife’s territory would be expanding, but it was nothing like that.

He said “well we all have needs and sometimes when a need is met then a problem gets alleviated”.

I was trying to figure out where he was going with that.

Then he said “how much do you want your wife to be happy?”

I said “I would give anything... our kids are starting to react to the way my wife is behaving... we are really living pay check to paycheck”

Then he said “prove it”

I said “prove what?”

He said “if you’ll do anything for your wife then prove it”

I was confused then he stepped into one of the bathroom stalls and unbuttoned his pants.

I was raised catholic and I was named the defensive football player of the year in high school and I played in college.

This was the most taboo thing I could ever do.

If he said cut my finger off, I would have just did it, but now I was completely taken off guard.

I wanted to run out of the bathroom.

He then said “come here” and he then pushed my head down.

It wasn’t a quick two minute drill it lasted at least 15 minutes and I started crying.

He finished then picked his pants up and headed out of the bathroom.

It took me another few minutes to pull myself together and muster enough strength to join the rest of my wife’s colleagues and her boss.

My wife asked why I took so long and I told her I had to take a work call.

We eventually left and I cried alone when we got home.

It was the weekend and I had a couple days to recover.

My wife kind of just laid in bed all weekend tossing and turning.

Monday came and my wife seemed completely miserable.

I had to make sure the kids were ready for school. It really threw off their routine. The kids didn’t relate to me and they were upset my wife wasn’t helping them.

Everyone left for the day and we returned home at our typical time.

The most amazing thing happened. My wife was glowing. She was a completely different person. She was smiling and singing.

Apparently, she met with her boss who said for the short time being she was OK, but not to get to happy because things could change in a blink of an eye.

For my wife, just to be reassured that she was good for the week completely changed her outlook and demeanor.

She was joking with the kids, helping them with their homework, and everything seemed back to normal.

I thought to myself well we all have done things we regret and what I did benefited our family.

Friday rolled around and my wife was still her perky self. We got ready for work and headed out the door together. As she got in her car she said “oh by the way we have to go out tonight with my work colleagues and my boss.” Then she got in the car and drove away.

I must have sat in my car for 20 minutes paralyzed by fear. I couldn’t move. Eventually, I started the car and went to work.

We all got home and My wife was humming around the house getting ready for the outing.

She kept reminding me to get ready.

I got changed and we headed to the restaurant.

The mood was much different this time. My wife was the life of the party. Everyone was laughing at everything she said.

Then it happened, I received a text stating “are you ready?”

I froze in fear. My wife’s boss got up and headed towards the bathroom.

I sat and waited a minute. I knew this was the only way to save the family.

I got up and made the death march.

It was so degrading because my wife’s boss was at least 10 years younger than me.

I got into the bathroom and he was waiting for me in one of the stalls.

As I got closer, I broke down and was bawling in tears. I couldn’t stop crying. I said “please don’t make me do this again”

He then pushed down on my head and I was in a kneeling position.

He took as about as much time as he did the week before and he had to make unnecessary noises throughout the whole experience.

We both staggered our return to the table and everyone was having such a good time that I’m not sure if anyone knew we had left.

My wife and I left the bar / restaurant and I went into the basement and cried for an hour.

My wife had not been so happy in years.

My kids were back to their old selves and I was content to see that my kids were ok.

I said to myself I had enough and I wasn’t going to do that anymore.

So, Friday came around and once again what was supposed to be a monthly thing now turned into a weekly affair.

My wife and I got ready and I was dead set that I was never going to do “it” again.

We sat at our usual table and all of the same cast of characters were there.

My wife was glowing in happiness. Then, I received the same text “are you ready?”

As I said I was done with doing “it”. I have had enough. He went to the bathroom and I stayed at the table. Then I received another text that said “last chance”.

Eventually, my wife’s boss came out of the bathroom and back to the table.

Shortly, afterwards we all left. It was a great weekend. My whole family went hiking and we were all in complete bliss. It was like all I really wanted in life.

Monday came and my wife was like Mary Poppins getting the kids ready for school and she was singing the whole time.

Then, that all changed when she came home from work. She was hysterically crying with her makeup dripping off her face.

She said she was put on probation today and everything she was doing was being documented to the minute.

I lashed out in anger and I said “that SOB”, which just made her cry more.

Once again, my wife was back to her miserable self. She ignored the kids and would just go to bed when she got home from work. She didn’t care about getting the kids ready for school because she was just too depressed.

I received a substantial pay cut at my job and now things were really tight.

Friday rolled around and my wife hinted towards us going out again with her work colleagues.

I knew I had no choice but I had to go.

We both monotonously got ready then shuffled our feet to the car then into the restaurant.

We sat down at the usual table with my wife’s work colleagues and my wife was completely comatosed.

The boss didn’t care he was a complete sociopath. I think if someone died at the table he would just order another drink and disregard that someone had just died that he knew.

It happened again I received the text “are you ready?”

He went into the bathroom and I followed him shortly afterwards.

I wasn’t a cryer and up until these bathroom visits occurred, I couldn’t recall a moment that I ever cried.

I was from the old school where crying was never an option you just suck it up.

This time it was different. He was in the bathroom stall and I slowly inched my self towards him like a kid who knew they were going to be reprimanded. I was crying uncontrollably.

He then started to kiss me on my lips and I started to screech in terror. He then proceeded to take my pants down and he then entered me in the most hate filled way.

Someone actually came into the bathroom and I stuffed my fist in my mouth to shut myself up. The person left the bathroom and after 20 hate filled minutes he finished.

This time I was in actual physical pain. We both left the bathroom. The boss was casually strolling through the establishment making small talk here and there.

I painfully walked back to the table. I did everything to hold back my tears from the physical and emotional trauma I had just experienced.

We eventually all left and went back home. It was the worst weekend of my life. My wife just stayed in bed all weekend and I hand to tend to the kids needs. I was in so much physical pain from the trauma I experienced.

Every step was so painful, but I had to cook for my kids and drive them to wherever they needed to go.

My wife was completely incapacitated.

Monday rolled around and I knew her mood was going to pick up and it did.

Slowly the physical pain had gone away.

My wife was on cloud nine again.

I was petrified of this Friday. I said I’m not going to do “it” anymore. I was going to confront the boss in the bathroom.

Friday came and both my wife and I entered the restaurant and went to our usual table with her work colleagues and her boss.

The text came asking “are you ready?” I got up and went into the bathroom.

My plan was that I was going to confront him right away and I did.

As he stood in the bathroom stall “I said why are you doing this?”

As I said this all I could think was I just destroyed my family.

Everything was going to go away. My wife hated my parents and living with them would last a day.

Then I started to cry realizing that I had no choice I had to do this.

Then he pushed my head down towards his crouch and I proceeded to do what he wanted me to do.

Then he said in the most angry and hurried state “do you know why I’m doing this ... do you ha?” He said it so loud that everyone in the restaurant must have heard it.

I continued on my knees bawling crying and then he said “do you know my brother?” and with my mouth half full I said “wha”

He said it again “do you know my brother” as he was flailing his hips towards my face.

As I was crying I said “No”

Then while, I continued to satisfy him bawling crying He then said “listen to me you piece of shit ... you don’t know me because your a worthless piece of shit ... do you remember my older brother ... you tortured him so much in grade school then in high school you drove my whole family into turmoil... I remember watching you, when I was a little boy, punching him in the back of his head, while he walked home from school ... you were such a big man ... and look at you now on your knees in the bathroom crying like a little baby with my thing in your mouth... you know my brother killed himself you piece of shit ... I was waiting to get revenge on you my whole life.”

He then finished and urinated on my face.

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