Day 1 - (Sept. 8th, Thursday)

Lynette

Between barely opened lids, I tiredly checked my text messages.

Wicks: Hey, Lentils, I'll be home later tonight to congratulate you on your new job! I love you, and be safe! 11:54 a.m.

I sighed and let my phone slip from my hand. It plopped next to my pillow. That promotion really keeps him busy. I threw my covers over my head like Wicks would come barging into my room and throw them off any second.

It sounded like he was in some kind of fight at work.

I pulled my blanket down enough to peek up at my ceiling. The sun cracking through my curtains dimmed my glow-in-the-dark stars.

I gigged to myself. Whoever Wicks was fighting with was so rude. They couldn't wait for us to finish our call. I shimmed out of my weighted blanket and sat up. It felt like gravity dragged my humor and smile down.

He doesn't talk about his work, does he? We kept very little from each other. Or… I'm sure there were things he never told me, but I told him everything from something dumb like eating a fry off the floor after it was there for a good ten seconds to all my fears.

My hands anxiously in rhythm patted the blanket, and to soothe myself, I terribly mimicked his voice. "I-" I grabbed my mess of curls, held them up in a ponytail, and swayed it with authority like he did with his. "I work with people, Lentils. That's all it is, hmph."

I snickered and let my hair go, "what could he be doing that's so secretive." It's not like I hadn't asked myself that before. I normally trusted him enough to let it go. "Every time I call him, it sounds like he's in a construction yard or sound deprivation tank." I stretched my arms up high. What would he be so embarrassed about that he'd refuse to tell me…?

My mind unfortunately came up with a terrible thought, one I didn't want to imagine with anyone, ESPECIALLY not my brother.

I squealed, scrunched my blanket up, and pressed it against my face, muffling any other sound that left it. HE'S NOT SELLING HIS BODY, RIGHT?! NO, STOP IT, MIND, PLEASE.

I kicked my feet a few times under the covers, letting them go. I lifted my head and corrected my thoughts. "He's smart and has so many other talents. There's no way that's it!"

I shut my brain down and twisted in my bed until my feet hung over the edge. I tapped my toes on the soles of my fuzzy gray shark slippers. "I think I need some breakfast." I got off the bed, put them on, and stepped off my pup rug.

I'll text Wicks back later.

...

I didn't like quitting a job on short notice. I expected my boss to panic and ask me to hold off or if I could run both jobs, which I'd considered.

To my surprise, neither of those happened. She accepted it, I signed some papers, and that was it.

Since I missed that week, she had been at odds with me, and I finally realized how ready she was to continue without me.

It removed some guilt from my shoulders but also hurt. It sounds so selfish. I know it's retail—people come and go, but I wished she at least acted like I was a little more important.

I took a big and deep breath, turning into the Pizzeria. It doesn't matter anymore.

I skimmed over the parking lot, heading toward the back since the employee entrance would be there. If I heard Sandra correctly yesterday.

I parked beside a sleek black car, whose shiny exterior suggested it was a recent model. Sophisticated and luxurious, it's probably Edgars.

Giving a quick glance at the other cars around mine, I noticed they all mirrored the same lavish aesthetic. In stark contrast, mine felt like a humble afterthought—functional, yet plain and unremarkable.

I blew out my next breath and picked at the fluff of the white case around my steering wheel. My eyes glid to the slightly stained fabric of my car seats, a patchwork of darkened spots from spilled drinks, and the worn, barely functioning aux cord. Its frayed edges were a testament to my frequent and abusive use. It sat clumsily with my phone in the cupholder, struggling to connect.

If all goes well- I slapped my hand, it will go well. I'm going to ensure every customer and coworker leaves this place with a smile. I looked at myself in the rearview mirror and pointed. "You're getting employee of the month!" My finger dropped, "if they have that."

Then I can retire and make funtube videos of animated DnD sessions, or people can watch how dumb I am at playing video games.

I hunched over and rested my chin on the steering wheel. Wicks offered to support me if I did that.

I couldn't take his money. It was a pipe dream, and I wasn't as funny or entertaining enough to support myself doing it.

My phone stirred and buzzed, jolting me out of thought. I took it out of the cupholder and saw it was my alarm. My shift started in ten minutes.

I threw open my punch bug's door and got out. I stood beside it and checked my uniform. Badge, check. I patted my black jeans with their extra big pockets. Phone and wallet, check. I looked over my shirt orientation and the little pizza Pete on the breast pocket. I'm wearing my shirt correctly, check. I tapped my head, missing my hat. I quickly snagged it from the passenger side, put it on, and closed the door. That's everything.

I faced the restaurant, and my metaphorical backpack of enthusiasm got heavier. I could feel apprehension packing a few more unwanted stones.

Regardless, I trudged on to the giant restaurant. I stepped up the ramp to the double glass doors. From what I could tell, they worked as a one-way mirror.

I inspected the doorframe for the scanner that Sandra mentioned and found it pretty quick. I got on my tippy toes and pressed my name badge to it. It beeped, and the door unlocked.

"Sweet."

I pulled the door open, and the smell of pizza crashed against my face. Yep, going home with that fresh pizza smell today.

The door softly shut behind me, and my pep slowed. It's long. I stared down the stretch of hallway. They look so obnoxiously tall and wide today.

As I continued down the spacious hallway, my hand brushed the textured gray wooden panels along the walls, each meticulously polished and clean. A lot of effort—and expense—must have gone into this.

The sudden shift to glass confused me. I tilted my head back, creating a distance between the window and me because of its sheer height. The door looked to be at least three times my height. Why is this so big?

I read the sign above it after taking a few more steps back. It said, 'Breakroom 3'. Break room 3? It didn't sound like he had many employees, nor any working on stilts to merit a window this size. I flipped around and saw an exact replica of the window and sign, except above that one said, 'Breakroom 4'.

I walked back to the glass to look inside and jumped when it suddenly slid open. It's not a window! I didn't notice any sensors. Is it picking up the badge? It closed when I moved away. I moved in a second time, and it opened. That's neat if you have your hands full and... I flipped back to face the end of the hall. Worry about this later. Get to the time clock and scan in!

I hurried the rest of the way, passing two more breakrooms, '1' and '2'.

I slowed as I approached the time clock in between two people. One was the towering blonde with glasses who invited me, and the other, who had his back to me, I hadn't seen before.

Getting closer, I heard them talking about a popular game called Olden Ring.

I raised a hand and slightly waved. "Hi!" Alexander flinched like my pitch hurt him. Was I too excited? I tried to speak calmer, "I couldn't help but hear you guys Olden Ring? I haven't got a chance to play it yet."

Alexander focused on the wall beside him and didn't acknowledge me.

The dark-haired guy, shorter and less physically opposing than Alexander, turned his head toward me. His complexion was a vaguely similar pale color to Edgar's.

It was hard to tell what color his eyes were due to his thick bangs covering them. Are they like Edgar's too?

"We haven't played it either. We were talking about playing it this weekend." He fiddled with his cap, adjusting it on his head. "You must be Lynette…" The friendly smirk he wore the entire time dropped. "Huh."

Is there something on my face? I held my smile. "Is something wrong?"

He glanced at the quiet Alexander and back to me, "No, not at all. Sorry, uh-." He anxiously laughed, "s-surprised is all." He jabbed at Alexander's side.

The blonde shifted his head and gaze. He stared down at me—dark circles that weren't there prior were now present under his glasses. What happened to him? He lifted his hand up and ran it through his disheveled short hair.

"Did you not sleep well?" I hesitantly asked, shifting my stance. I hope that doesn't come off as rude.

His deep, euphonic voice held little to no volume, "Yesterday was my birthday, so I was up, auwh," he yawned mid-sentence. "-night."

His voice sounds even deeper—it's almost hard to understand. "Well, happy late birthday!" I grinned and quietly cheered.

He nodded and didn't say another word. Yet, his eyes stayed on me like he wanted something else.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

His friend's voice pulled me from Alexander's intense stare, "I'm Drake, by the way; nice to finally meet you, Lynette."

"Oh!" I looked at Drake, "it's nice to meet you too." After we exchanged that, it got quiet.

My eyes looked for anything else to say or do because I felt bad enough that I awkwardly broke their conversation. There was nothing around us, the break rooms behind me, the fork in the hallway leading to the Infirmary and such, or a straight path through the kitchen out to the registers.

Luckily, I drifted to my scapegoat, the time clock. "I should scan in," I said and slipped between them. I lifted my nametag to the clock; you guys should, too, if you start at the same time."

Drake and Alexander did.

I strode ahead to give them space and entered the kitchen first. I had to go through it to make it to the cashiering counter.

I skimmed over the kitchen yesterday, taking it in less than I thought I should.

My eyes were first drawn toward the polished stainless steel countertops. They looked unused. Then, to the state-of-the-art appliances, including a massive wood-fired pizza oven. Those make the best pizzas!

Not far away from the oven were elegantly stored clear glass containers of fresh basil, ripe tomatoes, and other seemingly premium ingredients.

At the center were high-quality knives, rolling pins, and artisanal tools hanging neatly on magnetic strips, easily accessible and meticulously organized. This place is probably so expensive.

My glimpses were over when I reached the next threshold leading to the counter.

Faintly, I scarcely heard Drake say, "Good luck, Lynette!"

I went to peek my head back and thank him. I missed my chance as I almost smacked my face into Alexander's chest.

I returned to my chosen register, closest to the pizza harboring machine, and got ready to learn.

I expected it to be fast-paced and demanding, filled with customers spewing orders. After all, we were across the street from the mall, and the giant sign was welcoming.

Instead, everything felt easy. The customers were relatively calm. The few rowdy ones Alexander handled. He taught me how to greet customers, "Welcome to the happy pizzeria," special order type-ins, and what to check over or clean when business was slow.

This feels way too easy. It must be harder on the weekends.

I would have asked Alexander more about it if he hadn't acted so bothered by me. He refused to get close during his explanations, and if I moved in closer to listen to him better, he'd shuffle over.

I don't smell, do I? I showered in the morning and washed my uniform the night before. Or does he think I'm being weird?

I decided to let it go, and at the two-hour mark, it was our first break.

"You go on ahead. I'll handle the customers while you're gone." Alexander said.

"Thanks," I replied, going through the kitchen and seeing Drake and Sandra working on pizzas. I gave a small wave before heading to the first breakroom. Next to the door, I saw a note,

Remember to scan your badge for breaks and lunch! -Edgar

On the left side, another time clock was next to the door to break room one. It was slimmer and looked a bit newer.

I scanned my badge and went into breakroom one.

As I entered the room, my eyes were drawn upward, captivated by the height of the ceiling. It must have reached sixty feet or more. What was this place before? A warehouse? Do they make warehouses with ceilings this high?

Besides that, the room had several very widely spaced, round tables, each accompanied by plush, inviting chairs designed with employee comfort in mind. This is my first time seeing a place this nice for the employees. In the far right corner were a pair of oversized couches, an armchair, a massive plasma T.V. hanging on the wall, and in the back left corner, a fully equipped kitchen with a stainless-steel fridge, sturdy wooden cabinets, and a gleaming stove. This is so extravagant for such a small staff!

I took a minute to traverse the large area and sit on the black leather armchair near the T.V.

As I settled in, I flicked to the couches, unnaturally big, almost as if it had been crafted for a giant.

From what I'd seen, Alexander was the most imposing figure they had at the pizzeria. His physique was considerably more robust than most people's, with broad shoulders and well-defined muscles. I imagine he's dedicated to keeping himself in that shape. Yet, the couches looked like they'd make even him look dwarfed if he sat on them.

I slipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out my phone, about to look up the couch's model to see its purpose. It didn't look like any futon I had ever seen.

Wicks called me an hour ago! I quickly did my pattern password and called him back.

It rang once. "Hey-"

Wicks voice interjected apologetically, "Lentils! I'm sorry. I forgot your new job is a second shift like mine." He spoke fast, "I wanted to tell you I got home safe and to ask what cake you wanted in case you decided on something different than your usual."

I relaxed into the leather and fought the urge to put my feet up next to me. "You didn't have to buy me a cake."

"Yeah, I do. You were pumped for the job, and I'm pumped knowing you're pumped."

I softly chuckled, "Money-wise, it'll be great! I'm just cashiering and training under the guy that invited me." I let my head plop on the side, "I don't think he likes me very much."

From the other end, Wicks scoffed purposefully into the mic, "Who doesn't like you, Lentils. You've got the same charisma level of a puppy."

"You're underestimating those puppies." I joked, riling him up further. He sounded like he was about to make a chart explaining why I was at puppy level.

"Wicks, hey, for one, thank you. Two-" I sighed, "I don't want to mess this opportunity up. I'm worried that if he doesn't like me, I might lose this job for whatever reason." This seems like it'd be a community of tight-knit friends, right? No, that doesn't add up. Why would he get a stranger if that was the case? I barely moved here two months ago. He couldn't possibly know me or anything.

I heard some movement from Wicks's end. It made me smile lightly as I also changed my position on the chair. Charletta did say we imitate each other when we talk on the phone.

"Lentils, you're one of the most determined and hardworking people I know. You won't lose your job over it, and if you do, I'm going over there to talk to them, alright?" He said with positive conviction, "Now throw those stupid thoughts away and, instead, think about how good the cake's gonna be tonight."

My lips pouted.

Out of stubbornness, I attempted to hold my doubt, though it was impossible to retaliate against Wicks.

I conceded, "You're the best."

We chatted animatedly, lost in conversation, when, suddenly, a soft ding echoed through the room. It brought my attention toward the door. Above the entrance was my name in bold white letters on an illuminated blackboard with a timer that tracked my break time. I need to get going.

I said goodbye, hung up, left my seat, and headed out. On my way, I noticed a sign by the door saying something about lunch. I had to return to the registers, so I didn't read it.

It's probably the rules for the lunchroom or something. I reminded myself to look at it later.

I raced to the counter and smiled, seeing Alexander, "Your turn, buddy."

His faint bluish, gray tint met my green hue. He acknowledged me with a nod and moved past me without a word.

He's probably just tired. I have plenty of time to make friends with him and everyone else.

While I got situated, my eyes wandered to another wearing our uniform. A woman who ran around cleaning up the tables and floors. She was the janitor, occasionally taking over our cashiering positions when we were on lunch or breaks.

She looks fit like Alexander. I glanced down at myself. I wasn't chubby or too scrawny, just weak. How much Wicks loved to mock me for it.

I managed most of the customers for the rest of the time. Alexander listened to my conversations, cleaned the station we worked at, and went back and forth to retrieve the pizzas.

During that time, I failed to start a conversation with him. He really doesn't want to talk to me. He'd either nod yes or shake his head no. And unless it was work-related, he ignored anything that required a longer answer.

Does he not want to scare me off on my first day?

At nearly two hours of silence, Alexander spoke, "I'm going to get Viola to take over the registers while we go to lunch. I'll meet you back there."

I watched him go around and to the woman who was mopping the front.

I left the counter, scanned out for lunch, and went to the first break room.

Where should we sit? I scanned over the seats; there were four at each round table. There are so many tables to choose from and...wait! I exhaled in frustration. I didn't even pack a lunch today.

The cake Wicks offered sounded better by the second.

Behind me, the door slid open, and I heard whoever entered copy my previous exhalation.

Turning on my heels to face him, I saw it was Alexander. I wasn't that much of a pain today, was I?

He walked toward me.

I pointed my thumb back and over my shoulder at the well-spaced tables. "Which table did you want to sit at?" Should I have assumed we'd sit together? He might want to relax alone.

Alexander stopped in front of me and shut his eyes.

I repeated the question, quieter. Did he not hear me?

By the sounds of his tone, he groused, and I couldn't make out what he said.

I put my hands up to appease. "Or we don't have to sit-"

Without warning, he grabbed my right arm and caused me to squeak. He hunched closer and lifted it to his face.

The only thing that left me was a wheeze as I watched Alexander open his mouth and somehow engulf my hand entirely.

I froze, caught in disbelief.

I was too stunned, staring up at his closed eyes, to react, speak, or move, and all I felt was my palm against his tongue and fingers at his throat. This-this isn't real.

He snapped me out of it when he grabbed my other arm and did the same.

He grew in size, getting larger, defying every bit of logic I knew, and soon dropped to his knees to get me properly. He had up to my elbows inside his jaw, excess saliva slipping down them and onto the floor.

My shoes frantically squeaked and slipped against the linoleum floor. No matter how "varnished" they seemed in him, I couldn't yank myself back.

His right hand shifted up from the floor that he pressed them against when he fell to his knees. He wrapped it around my back, forcing me closer to his face.

Please scream. My vocals were too strangled by my rapid breaths to do so.

Being near him, his throat growled with a thick, hard swallow. It brought the rest of my arms inside and my face to his partially cracked-open lips. It was like staring into a chasm devoid of light.

My voice barely whimpered, "Don't do this..." When there was no way he heard me, or if he did, I doubted he'd have a sudden change of heart.

His wet lips opened wider, softly crackling with saliva, and showering me in its warm heat. I squeezed my eyes tight seeing his tongue come at me. It collided with my face and rested on it. Whatever liquid was in his mouth wasn't like ours, it was thicker like a slugs slime.

He shortly consumed my head and kept it inside him, so my cries were drowned in a viscous pool.

His tongue slathered and rocked against my face, allowing me short gasps when I turned it.

I thrashed briefly and went limp the moment I felt his teeth press on my collarbone and spine.

I awaited the bite to end me, panicking once more when my weight shifted. I wasn't on the ground anymore. My body was in the air, held up by his hands.

I slipped further into his expanding gullet hopelessly.

Soon, I couldn't move. Alexander's throat and esophagus prevented me from pivoting my upper body trapped in it.

His muscles tugged and pulled me deeper. He didn't gag nor struggle—every harsh gulp he took was effortless and efficient, clearly used to this.

I strained to do something, and my hands and arms soon reached an "open" space, followed by my head. I gasped out like I held my breath the whole time.

My hands ahead of me met the bottom of the "pocket".

Outside, I felt him take off my shoes and socks and swallow the last bit of my feet.

The rest of me fell fast. It forced my disoriented body into the space, forcing it to accommodate me. And I was thrust upright, or what I believed was upright. It was difficult to tell in the darkness.

All I knew were two things: I didn't have the sensation of being upside down, and I was trapped.

My back was on one side of the squelching humid flesh, and my legs were nestled to my chest by the other. How am I alive?

I didn't understand what was going on. I couldn't see anything, only feel the layers of goo and hear a distant, excited thumping of what I presumed was his heart. This has to be a bad dream. My surroundings groaned loudly like it was protesting my thoughts. This isn't possible.

I put up my trembling hands and pressed around. I pulled them back when the folds nearly engulfed them.

This is REAL.

I desperately pushed out my arms and feet, wanting to escape.

I couldn't hold onto the position for long; his insides were too strong, as if I were fighting against a hot, malleable steel wall.

This is why the position was empty! That's why Edgar said if I stayed the year.

I wanted to yell, knowing there was no point in begging or reasoning with Alexander. If he did this, he wouldn't listen.

I squirmed about, hoping to upset his stomach and make him spit me out.

All I did was make myself heavier, getting more of the lining on me.

I'm not going to die like this.

The more I futilely tried, the more his disgusting, bumpy folds shoved me back. They're mocking me. I clamored out in frustration, punching with the last bit of strength my shaky hands could muster. I had no traction nor space for it to be sufficient.

I felt weaker and was a little too late, realizing I could call for help on my phone. My arms wouldn't move.

Being involuntarily still, I noticed I didn't feel any pain, and my surroundings lacked any discernible smell. Why am I so tired? Am I suffocating?

My head slumped over, and my eyelids were falling. Don't fall asleep.

I refused to cry—I didn't want him to have that satisfaction.

I wouldn't last a year, not even six months... My consciousness dwindled and reminded me of every regret.

I barely lasted a day.

...