Day 1 - (Sept. 8th, Thursday)

Lynette

Whatever I was on didn't feel familiar.

On my back, I opened my eyes, staring at the extraordinarily high, bare white ceiling. Where am I?

I shifted my hands over the sheets, got a hold, and brought myself up.

The bed I was on wasn't the only one in the room—there were several of various sizes, all with white sheets. This looks like the infirmary. Why am I here?

In alarm, my eyes widened, and I wildly patted myself down. I'm not wet. I pinched at my clothes nervously. Why did I have such a disgustingly vivid dream?

I had never thought of anything like that before. I couldn't even watch many horror movies without hiding under a blanket or jumping at every sound.

Did I hit my head? Is that why I'm here? Everything up until that was so real.

I held it instinctively. When could it have happened?!

I shifted in the bed and pulled my phone out from my back pocket. All my cards and money were secured in my wallet on the back of my phone case.

I flipped to the phone screen and clicked the power button.

How?! Lunch was at 6:00! Why is it already 10:48?!

I straightened up as the door opened. I heard the door click from across the way and saw Sandra. She held a few papers and nodded calmly when she saw me.

“How are you feeling, Miss Wayland?” Her voice came off robotic.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket. I don't know. "I think I'm okay, I don't feel off."

“I’m glad. I want to ensure you feel well before you sign your resignation form.” What? Her smile read sincerity. She grabbed her rolling chair and pushed it toward me to sit in front of my bed. "And rest assured your memory of the events will be altered once you do."

I took the papers she handed me and failed to understand what she meant. Memory altered? Maybe I misheard her.

I disregarded it and focused on the forms I was holding. They were a resignation form and a bulky contract. "Why would I resign?"

Her eyes darted up and to the side in thought, "You don't want to resign after what happened?"

I pushed aside the bizarre, terrible dream and attempted to construct a logical conclusion. What happened? "Did I hurt someone?"

She bobbed her head, "That explains why you weren't as hysterical as most people are." Sandra folded her hands onto her black skirt and calmly spoke, " “I assume you’re under the pretext that Alexander eating you didn’t happen."

I smiled slightly, waiting for the joke. I sleepwalk when I’m in unfamiliar places. Maybe this time I muttered about that horrible dream instead.

She waited for my answer, unphased and without a hint of humor.

I searched her for a twitch of her eye, a curl at her lips, anything that indicated she was kidding. There was none.

She waited for my answer, unphased and without a hint of humor.

My half-cocked grin fled, "That's not physically possible." I poked at my clothes and then at my skin, "I'd be dead, and-ahhhh," I squeezed at my uniform's shirt. Don't think about it, don't think about it! I blocked out my knowledge of the human digestive system. She’s joking.

"We would not allow someone whose body would harm or kill you to eat you, Miss Wayland. Monsters here have preventative seals for that and..."

"M-Monsters?!" What is she talking about?

Sandra nodded. "I prepared a copy of your contract under that resignation. If you read through it, you'll see what I mean."

I adjusted myself on the bed, sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce. I laid the employee contract on top of the resignation form.

Hysteria bubbled inside me. This looks like the same document I signed yesterday. "Sandra, you're joking." I flipped through it. She leaned in and directed me to a section hidden amongst the standard clauses, "fair meal clause (employee-to-employee)." She couldn't...who would write all this for a joke.

"I'm not kidding with you, Miss Wayland."

FAIR MEAL CLAUSE (Employee to Employee):

49. Employees may consume one another only during their specified lunch period...

I pried my eyes on it and denied it. "I'm not wet. If that were true, I wouldn't be this dry; I also don't-" I lifted the front of my shirt to smell it. "I don't smell like anything either."

Sandra sat back in her chair, not enough to fully recline. "We wouldn't leave you covered in saliva or anything, Miss Wayland. We make sure our employees aren’t hurt and cleared off before going home."

What would they gain if that happened? This doesn't make any sense.

I lifted the contract to stare longingly at the resignation form. "You're saying monsters and magic exist?" I glanced up at her, skepticism coating every word, "nothing about this place seems magical to me." Aside from her saying it happened, I couldn't play along. Why eat something and not...use it.

Sandra exhaled sharply and stood up from her chair. The soft creak of the wood echoed in the quiet room. She got to her desk, strewn with various papers and colorful sticky notes, and settled on a large, foisting book near the edge.

Holding the book out, she returned, "Grab this and tell me what you feel."

It was heavy, a hardcover with several hundreds of pages. Nothing inside it felt off—besides the words being in another language. A few humanoid animal diagrams, too—they weirded me out. "Uh...I feel like it's a book?"

"Now, do you mind handing it back?"

I gave it to her. She took the odd hardcover anatomy book, put both hands on either side of the over seven-hundred-page spine, and, with minimal effort, tore it in half.

Wow.

Her force crushed the cover, and scraps of the pages fell to the floor. How did she do even that? She handed me what was left intact.

I held the halves, staring blankly at her. Is this a threat?

"Does it feel the same?"

"It-" It took me a second to nod. I put it to my face to show I was 'feeling it' as my hands were full. "yes. The only difference is that it's torn in half."

"Excellent."

I prepared to give them to her again and receded. Her eyes keenly focused on the halves—so much so that their green got brighter, lightening at the center and glowing outward. They were like a neon sign, and the book in my hands rumbled like it was alive.

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I immediately dropped it. It clattered to the ground, and in a whirlwind, the pages, pieces, and cover mended back together. They formed their original undamaged copy once more as if she had never split it.

I glanced back at Sandra, whose hue had decreased their glow. "Pick it up," she told me.

I hesitantly slipped from the side of my bed and slowly reached down. I followed Sandra as I did. That's...that's not something people can do. I tentatively tapped the book with my fingers, and when it didn't move, I slipped to the spine to pick it up.

I knocked on its cover, confirming it was back together. "H-how did you do that?"

"Magic. I'm a magus. One of the only types of monsters that can't break a human case or get any bigger to demonstrate magic that easy to you."

She couldn't have swapped the books. "E-even so, how am I fine."

Sandra put her hand out for her property, "We have a few rules in place for lunch here. The main one being, if they don't physically harm someone, anyone can eat one another at lunch." She went back to her desk after I handed it off. "And as I mentioned, there are preventative measures that keep you from being hurt."

That gives me even more questions.

Her continuation distracted me. "However, if you'd like to resign, it'll be removed from your memory and replaced with a normal work day."

I touched my right temple. "I'll forget everything?" I don't want that.

"You'll get today's pay before you leave, but yes."

I inched back on the bed, sitting in the middle of the mattress, no longer at the edge. "What else will you do to me when I resign?"

Sandra's eyelids sagged, weighted with seriousness, "only that," Sandra's tone was sharp, insulted that I'd suggest they'd do anything else to me.

Seeing my expression, she composed herself and cleared her throat. "The only other thing I could have done, as the contract you signed states, is automatically fire you and alter your memory for talking to another human, who isn't unaware of monsters and magic, about such outside of work."

So I can't tell anyone?

My lip quivered, and I gripped the handful of sheets. "Do other humans work here, too?" It's a big sum of money.

"We haven't had one last more than a day; getting eaten by their coworkers isn't something most humans can handle," Sandra admitted.

I picked at the form, rubbing my pointer finger and thumb along it. I want to remember everything. If magic and monsters are real, I can't undo this. "Can I-I avoid them?"

"Anything is permitted as long as you don't bring weapons or plan to kill another coworker."

Why am I even asking this? I looked at the book she rested on her desk. None of this feels real. It's like I'm stuck in a dream.

"Was Edgar's promise a lie?"

"No. If you read over the current copy of your contract, you'll see that much." She gestured to the copy. "He offered you an absurd amount of money. He's never offered a human that before, so you've made quite the impression on him." She moved her nails across her desk lightly and got a pen.

He promised four million five hundred thousand dollars if I make it a year. I'd live comfortably like that. "Is there anything else I should know…if I stayed?"

Sandra bumped into her chair and held the back of it, "you want to stay?"

"Not exactly."

She rolled the chair out of the way and offered me the pen.

I stared at it.

If she's being honest, that means...The confined, wet space played in my head. My chest hiccuped in heaves, imagining it. Why would someone do that? Why would he even do that? I don't believe that. Magic or not. What's the point? For fun? I was too afraid to ask.

"I want the money," I answered, taking the pen. I can't leave this offer behind, right?

Sandra moved her brown wavy locks behind her ear. "You asked if there is anything else you should know if you decided to stay." She pointed to the contract copy. "Employees can only go after one another at lunch; any other times are prohibited." She twirled her finger in the air. "Magic with intent to harm can't be used against each other, and most magic, if used on you, has to have your approval first."

She shifted around the chair, plopped down, and fixed her posture.

I pressed the pen to the resignation form. A promise of a comfortable life as long as I deal with whatever might happen or forget everything and take what I have? Restart. I did the math in my head. I'd get approximately $800 for working today without tax.

Am I really considering this? Can I do something like this? I don't want to go through that again. Why is that even a rule here?

"Miss Wayland, you can take all the time you need," Sandra said, folding one leg over the other.

How many times have you done this? She sounded like an actor on a stage doing the same repeated play.

I took a few drawn-out breaths. This would be a life-altering decision.

I should think this through. I put the pen down beside my thigh with the resignation form. I opened the contract and started to read through it carefully.

"I'll be grateful if you can help me understand this as I read."

...

Later near midnight

I unlocked the front door to the apartment I shared with Wicks. From down the hall, I watched him leap up from the black leather couch. He nearly tripped over himself as he ran.

"YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO CALL ME FIRST!!" He yelled, his voice fluttered with excitement and mild annoyance. His arms whisked me up and twirled me as he brought me inside.

Lately, I didn't know what I'd done to deserve his enthusiastic reaction to seeing me.

"Wicks!" I playfully shouted out in dizziness.

He slowed down and dropped me. I planted my feet on the ground and exhaled, "You know I get dizzy easily." I made a deliberate effort to focus on a single Wicks, ignoring the three that my vision presented.

He smiled and adjusted his short ponytail, which threatened to come undone. "Great, if you're feeling dizzy, it gives me time to grab your cake." He turned back, hurried over, and entered the kitchen across from our laundry room.

"Cake?" I forgot he mentioned buying me one to celebrate my new job. "Wicks, you don't have to go all out over every job I get."

I shut the door behind me, removed my shoes, and put my keys on the crab claw hook near the door.

I passed the kitchen and went to the right when I entered the living room. I slid onto the middle barstool and looked into the kitchen through the window.

He retrieved the cake from the fridge and spun around to face me. He triumphantly held it in its little white box.

I smiled back and jumped to catch it when he slid the cake across the counter to me. "Hey!" I caught it.

"You got it, it's fine." He lightly stuck out his tongue and pointed to the lid, "You should look at what I did for it."

I set my hat down and undid my ponytail. The furl of orange curls burst out and overtook my face. I blew them out of the way, fending them off with one hand while opening the lid with the other.

My smile wiggled, trying to hold back my laughter.

Wicks added a poorly drawn pizza slice to a chocolate-frosted cake and smudged out 'birthday,' replacing it with the word 'Job.'

Happy Job.

He waited patiently for my response, a goofy grin on his face.

I snorted and chuckled, "You're such a dork; I love it."

He rolled up his hoodie sleeves and rested his elbows on the counter across from me, "it took me so long to get that pizza on it."

I didn't want to tell him it was probably the best drawing I had ever seen from him. He had many talents, but drawing wasn't one of them.

"It's amazing." I stared inadmissibility. I had to surprise him back at some point. Given how much he works, he deserves it.

"Do you want to get me a knife, or are we eating this bad boy with our hands?" I jokingly did a scooping motion.

"I'm not falling for it, Lentils." Wicks turned around and walked toward the fridge, "The last time I agreed to that, you sent the picture of me doing that to Mom, and she wouldn't let me eat anything without supervision for a week," Wicks grumbled and opened the drawer beside the fridge to get the tool.

I deviously smiled, "It was funny! And don't forget I also sent Madre a picture of me with cake hands too!"

He handed me the cake spatula, "Yeah, and she thought I convinced you to do it to get in less trouble."

I sliced into the cake as he grabbed plates. He slid them to me. I served him a quarter of the cake.

His hazel eyes stared at it mildly disgustedly, "That's your plate." Wicks couldn't handle much sweets, unlike me.

"This is mine," I gestured to the rest.

"Heh," he quickly pushed the plate back my way. I moved to catch it, and he grabbed the box and tugged it to him. "You are not eating it all in one sitting again."

I held the quarter slice and looked up at him with a whimper, "Wicks-"

He aggressively pointed at the plate. "You're eating that slice while I cook dinner tonight. Then we'll go watch El Serpentino de-," he stopped. His smile twitched, and he immediately put his hands to his face. "No, sorry, I meant whatever you want to watch!"

"What's El Serpentino?"

"Nothing!!"

I leaned back, holding the counter's edge with one hand, and pulled out my phone with the other.

Wicks nearly threw himself over the counter to stop me, barely avoiding my cake slice.

"Don't, it's nothing. I meant Super Rangers, let's watch that, whoooooo!!" He hoped I'd stop.

"Okaaaay," I said. I put my phone on the counter between him and me to show him I wouldn't. I'm being cruel.

I already knew that he secretly watched Telenovelas when I wasn't around. Madre told me that she and Wicks would gush about them. I pretended I didn't know for his sake.

You always get so embarrassed by the dumbest things. I exhaled.

He had been like that for as long as I knew him, yet there was an unmistakable raging blaze hidden behind his passiveness, one I rarely saw.

The rest of the night went as expected. He made me smile, as he always did, even on my worst days. We stayed up until about 2 a.m. and soon got ready for bed.

I went to my room, showered, put on my shark pajama shorts and shirt, and settled under the covers. Minus the weighted blanket tonight.

For the next hour, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. How could I?

Above my bed, my eyes traced the poorly done glow star constellations. In addition to my sign, the Gemini, besides it, was Wicks's, the Scorpio, Scales for Charletta, and Ursa Minor because it looked like a cute little pot.

I stared at them for another twenty minutes.

I'm not going to be able to sleep, am I?

I got up and went to my desk near my window in the far corner of the room. I grabbed my laptop and its small table. I took them and gently slipped back under the warm covers. I remained sitting and turned on my laptop.

The light temporarily blinded me.

I didn't resign yet. I couldn't forget this, so I'll be writing this all down.

It's hard to remember everything I asked Sandra. I could barely think after hearing, seeing, and knowing what she told me might have validity.

That's why if I choose to quit one day, I'll record as much as possible in this journal.

...