The man behind the all too familiar desk coughs uncomfortably. "Firstly, Sam," he says, clasping his hands on top of the desk in front of him. "I'd like to apologise. What was said last time turned out to be... unfair."
I smile smugly, raising my eyebrows at him from across the desk. A look that says, 'You don't say.'
"The results of the trial were certainly," He pauses to adjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose, his eyes coincidentally avoiding my eyes. "Unexpected."
I nod complacently, as if it were all my doing. Maybe I'm taking a little too much pride in the fact that Mike was freed because of me. I know that he wouldn't have gotten the verdict that he did – but I really can't take all the credit.
Josh. If he hadn't been there, maybe I wouldn't have found the disc in time. Maybe I never would have found it. Ironically, it had been Josh who had kept me sane through that whole experience – revisiting the place where we almost died. And I'd been watching him drowning even further in insanity.
Or maybe he had always been that way.
"I've got ten of my employees already reporting and researching about these," the man coughs as if he is still uncomfortable with the word in his mouth, "Wendigos." He finally meets my strong gaze with his restless one – it's almost like the roles are switched this time around. "They could really do with your input."
Josh has been doing a lot better though, now that he's found himself back in the stable environment of prison. At least I now know that he's back on his meds and his psychological treatment. His retrial is soon. Part of me really hopes that he'll get found not guilty of the arson because of the video. It's funny how he thought he was looking for the video for Mike – for me – and it might very well be the ticket he needs to gain his freedom. The other part of me is scared for that. He's safe in prison. His mind isn't lost, isn't bombarded there. His memories won't be attacking him there.
I don't know if I want him free or not.
"Let me make this clear, Samantha," the man says, taking off his glasses and folding them in front of him. "I'm offering you a job."
A job. What I had always wanted. To work for a newspaper – and for the New York Times no less! It would give me a huge readership that I haven't managed to reach out to yet. It would open so many opportunities for me.
"Yeah," I smile, my lips drawn tight. "I got that."
He blinks back at me. As if he'd been expecting me to squeal with delight.
I don't need this opportunity any more.
"But I'll kindly decline," I shoot a smug smile in his direction.
He stares at me, disbelief in his eyes set in his eyes. I'm pretty sure his jaw almost dislocated right now and fell off his face.
"I can do much better than this," I conclude, pushing myself off the chair. "Thank you for your time."
And then I spin on my heel and stride out the door.
I figure the New York Times newspaper is far too... mediocre for me. I mean, why not a book deal? A TV show?
Maybe a video game?
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