𝘐𝘕𝘏𝘜𝘔𝘈𝘕 ✪ ybn | 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝.

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙵𝙾𝚄𝚁

Bricole gasped as the alarm on her phone sounded off. It was 9:20 A.M. and she had to be at her new job at 10:40. It takes her sometime to get situated, a reason why she wakes earlier than before.

She climbs from bed, going into the bathroom and began to shower. After she'd done what she needed, she slides on a heather gray t-shirt, dark Levi jeans, and her white Nike Air Force 1s. She placed her hair in a low ponytail, letting her baby hairs free from being gelled into swoops.

She grabs her usual bag and walks out the apartment, locking the door. She didn't hear the boys outside nor around the corner.

She continues to the bus stop, ready to go to work at her new job.

Stepping from the bus step, she walked towards the grey faculty, careful to not bump into other busy bodies loading dangerous chemicals into white trucks with the company's logo graphed on them. She remembered Mrs. Key walking her through a certain door, but couldn't figure out which one it was. She stood looking at the many metal doors before entering the one to the far right.

She peeked in, seeing the auditorium in which she seen yesterday with the wax creatures and such. She didn't think much of it as she entered. Mrs. Key was waiting on her whilst she stood by a door that was labeled 'Ｆａｃｕｌｔｙ Ｏｎｌｙ.'

Mrs. Key had seen Bricole step foot into the building, walking her stubby figure in her classic black heels towards the young lady.

"I see that you have made it," she greeted as Bricole halfly smiled, nodding, "Come on. No time to waste, your training shift starts now."

She beckons Bricole to follow her into a locker room. There was a African American woman standing in blue, skinny overalls with a t-shirt and white Reebok's. A hair net secured the hair follicles of her curly style whilst she wore latex gloves, holding a broom in her left hand. She looked as if she was a middle aged woman who'd worked there for years.

"Miss Caroline, this is Bricole; she's the one who is to be by your side the whole day, teach her how thing's work and what needs to be done around here," Mrs. Key salutes as she her heels clicked against the cemented grey floor, walking out.

Caroline, the lady, stares at Bricole before speaking, "I guess Mr. Osburn picking them young now, come on; let's get you a locker."

Caroline spoke with a heavy southern accent, she must've been born in the country.

Bricole quietly nodded before following her to the back of the room.

Bricole and Caroline were both cleaning a room together as Bricole was mopping the floor.

As Caroline wiped the glass windows with a wet rag, she turned her back, "Put some more Lysol on the floor."

She obliged as she'd gotten the Lysol from the materials cart, pouring a cap full onto the floor, picking the mop from her side.

"What made you want to work here, sweetheart?" Caroline asked as she dipped the rag back into the soapy water.

Bricole slowly stopped mopping the premises looking up, "I needed a new job," she looked down, beginning to mop faster.

"What happened? You lost your other one?" she assumed as she pierced her lips.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, please. Don't call me that, it'll just make me feel old. I'm only forty-one," Caroline chuckles, "call me Carol for short."

"Ok, miss Carol," Bricole halfly smiles.

"You know, I don't know why you would want to be working here anyways," Carol says as she climbs from the stool she once stood on, looking at the now shiny glass. You could see below to the ground if you were closer.

Bricole frowns, "What do you mean, miss Carol?"

"This place is gruesome and terrifying. If you walk into a room where they held a creature in, there might be blood on the floor or-or chemicals the scientists might've wasted. You have to be careful in those labs when you're cleaning," she explained.

"Is that a reason why the pay is high?"

"Maybe, maybe not. It depends on what you're willing to do. Most janitors can't stand the sight of blood, a reason why they'd be paid less. If you're brave enough to clean up limbs and blood, then your pay would be higher."

"L-limbs?" Bricole stutters, shocked.

"Yes, limbs. Limbs from the creatures they torture," Carol says, nonchalantly.

You had to have guts to work there in the laboratory. If you had a weak stomach, then you were out of luck. Bricole didn't know how to feel about her job anymore, but she knew she had to keep her job.

"Have you ever cleaned up a limb before?" asked Bricole.

"Yes, but it was rare," she answered, "I remember walking into a cell where a chained creature was held. It looked as if it was a fish and a merman at the same time, but it wasn't pretty and majestic. They had cut his fins off, leaving him finless. I won't lie to you, I was afraid of being in there alone. I had cleaned everything, but the fin. The creature watched me as I picked it from the floor. I swore I seen tears coming from it's eyes, but I couldn't tell," she sighed.

Bricole was disturbed, goosebumps formed on her skin as she bit her lip.

Carol seen the state she was in, "Let's go to the next room."

Bricole nods as she gotten the cart ready. Today was going to be a long, but interesting day.

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