“100 factory employees are on strike following the new law being proposed. Governor Anderson proposed a bill this morning trying to minimize the inspection qualifications in factories. In doing this it will cut back on funding, but could put workers at risk for more accidents on the job.
In response to this proposal factory workers around the country are on strike outside of their workplaces, demanding the bill to be rejected due to it being an attack against worker safety...”
“Hello, this is Gov. Anderson’s office... No, he will not be taking questions right now. Please call back another time, thank you, yes, have a good night...” Mona hangs up the phone, sighing heavily and she turns to her computer. She frantically tries to answer an email, getting only a few lines into it before the phone rings again.
“Hello, this is Gov. Anderson’s office... No, he will not be taking questions right now. Please call back another time, thank you, yes, have good night...”
It’s been non stop since this morning. Phone call after phone call and email after email. People are furious and questioning him as governor. As they should. But because of all of this only Mona is having the hard day. While she tries to put out the fire her boss is sitting in his office idly, creating a whole new fire inside of his head. Throwing all sorts of fireworks in it and waiting for a colossal explosion to occur.
The atmosphere in the office is smothering, a heavy weight on top of her as she tries to ignore it. The phone rings again, “Hello, this is- Oh? Ok... Yes, sir... One moment...” Mr. A had called her and ordered her to go into his office. She takes a deep breath, shaking a little as she sits up and smooths her skirt down a little. Don’t panic, it’s all fine..."
Her heels click on the floor as she walks up to the doors of his office, hesitating slightly outside of the door as she braces herself to go inside. Today she is wearing her usual black pencil skirt and a while blouse, not a practical outfit to receive a punishment in.
The heavy wood doors creak a little as she pulls on one, walking in as confidently as she can as she spots him at his desk. His chair is turned around towards his book shelf, his hand passing over the spines of each book delicately and slowly like he is trying hard to pick one.
“Ms. Moore,” his voice is etched with irritation. She stands in front of his desk, arms crosses over her stomach as a way of reassuring herself.
“Yes, sir?” She asks nervously, watching the back of his head intently as he talks.
“Tell the DA that I want him to go to the site of the riots. I want him to see their faces and order the local police to arrest all of the people rioting.” His voice is dark as he says this, very accusatory towards the citizens going against his word.
“Sir, I’m not sure that is a good idea. The press will be there and the workers are partaking in a peaceful strike-” her voice is strong despite her urge to shake. This is a horrible idea, if the police are ordered to arrest the peaceful protestors, that can cause an even larger problem in the state. This is the right of the workers.
“Ms. Moore.” He says again, standing up and walking around his desk. She looks down, scared to match his gaze as he places himself in front of her. His body towers over her, his eyes burrowing into her as her heart races. She can smell his Gucci cologne and the familiar smell of detergent coming from his black suit.
“Repeat what you said.” He says sternly.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice comes out weakly, it takes every ounce of strength in her body to not visibly shake, to not move away or flinch.
She clenches her fist a little, taking a deep but silent breath as she prepares for what she knows is about to come. “I’m sorry, sir. I thought-”
It only took a millisecond for his palm to meet her cheek. A loud smack resonating through the office as she falls to the ground, knocked off guard by the hard and sudden slap. Fighting back tears she holds her cheek, looking down at the floor.
“I didn’t ask you to think. You only do as I say. So go do your fucking job and call the DA, call the police. And tell them to handle it. Do you understand?” His gaze is hard as he looks down on her, eyebrows furrowed with rage. She nods in response, her voice shaken out of her. “I asked, do you fucking-” he makes a motion like he’s going to kick her, causing a panicked squeal to escape her throat as she cowers away from him “understand?”
“Ye-yes, sir. I understand... I’m sorry, sir...” She stammers over her words, tears escaping her eyes despite her effort to keep them in.
“Get out of my office, do as I’ve asked, and clean yourself up. You’ll be an embarrassment if a client walks in.” He turns and walks away, returning to his side of the desk. His hand returns to his book shelf, eyes roaming over the books again.
Mona shakily picks herself up off the ground, brushing her skirt back down. She sniffles a little, not thinking about it. A book is suddenly flying at her, hitting her in the head as she screams again, this time using the chair beside her to steady herself.
“I said get out!” His eyes are back to her, his hand still in the position it was to chunk the book at her, his irritation peaked by her ever increasing presence in his office. She rushes out, closing the door behind her and pressing her back against it as she starts to cry. She slides to the ground, tears flowing down her cheeks as her body shakes.
I can’t do this anymore, I can’t. I can’t take the abuse, I can’t work for a human this evil. How can someone be this evil? How can someone like this?
“What do I do? What do I do?” She says softly, her sobs starting to fill in her throat, choking her as her body continues to tremor. Running her hands through her hair she shakes her head. “There’s nothing I can do...”
“Never say that there’s nothing.” There it is again, the deep voice that has become all too familiar to her now. Her hope, her fear. She looks up towards him- watery, red eyes meeting his piercing grey. Mr. Moon.
Her face, he thinks to himself. He pulls his phone from his pocket, walking over to her slowly before crouching in front of her. “Ms. Moore...”
She realizes what he’s doing so she hides her face, turning away from him so the red mark doesn’t show. “Trust me,” he says in a soft voice. “Please, let me see you.” His hand travels under her chin, his thumb and pointer finger moving her to look at him. Her bottom lip start to quiver as he examines her. Embarrassment fills her chest and stomach as she closes her eyes.
I can’t believe I’m letting him see me like this, can’t believe I’m letting anyone see me like this.
She can see a bright light flash through her eyelids, she opens her eyes and sees his phone in front of her. Without thinking she grabs his wrist, tightly but not hard, and looks him in the eyes. “You can’t use that without my permission.”
He sighs and puts his free hand on top of hers, the warmth wrapping around her fingers. “Should we get dinner tonight? When will you be off work?”
“It depends on the day...” She says softly, averting her eyes from his. It was becoming harder to look at him, harder to hold back all the thoughts inside her head. Hold back the little voice begging her to tell him everything, to receive his help to the highest degree. Help the people that are soon to be victims of his cruelty in every sense of the word.
“Ms. Moore! Have you called the DA, yet?” Mr. Anderson yells from his office, causing her to jump a little as she realizing she still hasn’t done as he’s asked. He’ll be furious.
“Come on,” Mr. Moon says gently, grabbing her hands and helping her up off the floor. Right as they’re up and she’s brushing off her skirt Mr. Anderson comes storming from the room.
“Why the hell aren’t you answering... Mr. Moon? Why are you here? What brings you to my office, have you reconsidered helping me with my campaign?” Some strands of his gelled hair have fallen free and his white undershirt is poking from his pants a little. He’s becoming increasingly more stressed and angry by the minute, but the immediate sight of Moon has changed his facial expression from sour to optimistic.
“I came by to return a pen I accidentally stole from your secretary. I’m still not interested in being involved with you, however...” He looks from Mr. A to Mona, “your employee really is worth praising. You have good staff on your side, I’ll have to remember that.”
He turns and takes Mona’s hand back into his own, cupping it, shaking softly and smiling warmly at her. “I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time, I apologize for the distraction. I hope you have a good rest of your day.” He nods to Mr. A then walks towards the door, long strides carrying him easily and quickly from the room.
Mona puts her hands behind her back, looking at Mr. Anderson apologetically. “I’m sorry, sir. I will call the DA right now.”
“It’s fine, just get it done.” He says, his tone less aggressive than earlier. He looks her up and down, eyeing her carefully. “I want you to sleep with him.”
What?! “I-I’m sorry, excuse me?” She stutters, her heart fluttering nervously at the words that just left his mouth.
“I want you to sleep with Mr. Moon. He seems to be taken by you, if you can seduce him then maybe we could use it as leverage to get him to help with the campaign. This isn’t a suggestion, I want you to do it.” He turns to walk away, Mona reaches her hand out to try to stop him but he whips around, lifting his arm in the air in a threatening position. “This isn’t a discussion. If you don’t do it then you lose your job. I’ll give you until the end of the month, don’t disappoint me.” He returns to his office, closing the large wooden doors behind him.
“Until the end of the month. That’s 3 weeks.” She sits back into her desk running her fingers through her thick locks. “What the fuck am I going to do? Oh...” She reaches behind her back and pulls a card from under her waistband. Mr. Moon had placed it in her palm when shaking her hand.
She unfolds it and sighs, it’s a business card with his cell phone number written on it. “This is becoming far to complicated, what do I do? 3 weeks... I can’t do it...”
She looks over to her computer and sees the news article about the protests. The protests. “Oh shit, I need to call the DA... Where is his number...” She grabs her phone book and goes through it. A few hours more of work, a few hours to think.
As she is on the phone with the DA she continuously looks to her phone, the screen open to her messages.
[Mona] : So, what did you say about dinner?
[Mr. SiWoo Moon] : I’ll pick you up from your work, just let me know when you’re off.Things are becoming too complicated, too confusing. Too personal and too nerve wracking. “I should message Haize and let him know I won’t be home for dinner...”