Page 7 of His Obsession
Jake started chuckling and waving his fingers around like he was trying to hypnotize me. “That’s why they call me ‘Merlin,’ baby! I work magic with my computers.”
“Keyword there wasyour computers.How did you even get on my phone? It’s password-protected,” I glared at him, crossing my arms. “And no one calls you ‘Merlin,’” I added.
“Yeah, Lizzy Bear, 1-2-3-4 isn’t a password. Do better.”
Ew.
“Do not call me Lizzy Bear!”
He would call me Lizzy Bear occasionally, but I always told him to stop. That wasn’t my name, but he felt the need to make it happen.
As I was getting ready to rip into him with a fiery storm of words, Mr. Donovan came out of the conference room, holding his hand close to his body. He had it wrapped in tissues, and blood was dripping everywhere. Becca jumped from her seat with a squeal and ran to the janitor’s closet.
“Oh my God! What happened?” I squeaked, my words sounding like a scream and a squeak toy.
Standing frozen at my desk, all I could see were the big droplets of blood smacking the white-marbled floor. Jake stood by, seeming rather pleased, which wasn’t the reaction I would expect from him.
“Be careful—” Jake warned before a seething Mr. Donovan turned on him.
“Piss off, Jake, he has an anger issue when it comes to—”
Jake tsked and waved his finger at Mr. Donovan. “You may think you can speak to me any way you please, but let me remind you, wrath comes in all flavors, and you don’t want mine.” He got close to Mr. Donovan’s sweat-soaked face and said something I couldn’t hear. Mr. Donovan’s eyes went wide, and fear blasted through the pain and anger he was expressing before.
As if he flipped a switch, Jake went from terrifying and threatening to his happy, bubbly self.
Still frozen in place, Becca came racing out of the closet with a large wad of paper towels, almost slipping and falling on the pooled blood.
I think I’m going to hurl.
“Give him a Band-Aid and a squishy, he’ll be right as rain.” He laughed.
Becca gave him an are-you-serious look, took Mr. Donovan’s hand, and led him to the bathroom.
“Well, okay, I better go catch up,” Jake announced. “Have a nice rest of your day, Liz.”
He walked away with a smirk. What the hell just happened? Walking to the bathroom to check on Becca and Mr. Donovan, I stepped around the big puddle of gore.
Oh, God. Deep breaths.
Fanning myself, I tried to keep the blood from leaving my face. I heard Mr. Donovan bellowing from the bathroom as I opened the door.
Becca had gloves on and an enormous pile of bloody tissues on the floor.
“You are going to need stitches.” She ran his hand under the faucet, and the water turned scarlet.
“You don’t say?” Mr. Donovan berated. “After someone shoves a pen through your hand, I’d say that would be the next step, right?” he said through clenched teeth.
I gasped, and both pairs of eyes looked at me.
“It’s okay, Liz,” Becca said, trying to soothe me. “I’m going to take him to the doctor. Could you watch the phones for me, please?”
I gave her a slight nod, my eyes staying on the blood in the sink. “Uh-huh, yeah, sure,” I stammered, backing out of the bathroom. I rushed back to my desk, sank into my chair, and put my head between my legs.I will not pass out, breathe, I will not pass out—the mantra repeating in my head.
I heard Becca say they were leaving, and I raised my hand to give her the thumbs-up sign, with my head staying between my legs. Someone, please call my name to release me from this jinx.
I felt the blood return to my face when the need to vomit left. I took a deep breath and picked the office phone off the cradle, waiting for maintenance to answer. How do you even explain that? “Oh, sorry, Mr. Donovan fell and landed on a pen.” That sounded stupid. I grabbed my phone to respond to Mr. Jackson.
Me: This wouldn’t have anything to do with the pen-sized hole in Mr. Donovan’s hand, would it?