Mercy was tired - bone tired.

Her shift at Madison General had started hard, and only gotten harder as the hours went by.  Halloween night always brought out the crazies, the perverts, the candy-poisoners - the assholes.

Tonight had been no different.

It was over now, thank God!  She just wanted to make the drive home, slide into a warm tub, and then sleep so deeply that the ER and everything else going wrong in her life would lose it's grip - even if only for awhile.

As she walked through the cold underground parking ramp to her car, she mulled her choices for supper.  Stop on the way at a late-nighter for take-out, or something hot & stale from the microwave.  By the time she'd reached the car and bent down to unlock the door, she'd decided to avoid the late-nighters.

No reason to tempt fate on Halloween night...

Bent over, with the key in the lock, she didn't catch the motion of someone moving up quickly behind her.

A hand touched her shoulder.  Startled, she started to spin around.

"Mercy", she recognized the voice, "We have to talk..."

Completing her turn, she found herself face-to-face with Jenson Millner Dacord III, the hospital's much despised administrator.  He went on, without waiting for her to reply.

"I've been hearing a lot of unsatisfactory comments about your performance in the ER lately, Mercy.  Perhaps we should go someplace for a cup of coffee & talk about it?"

"Who's been making the comments, Mr. Dacord," she asked, "I've gotten nothing but praise in my evaluations."

"I wouldn't want to reveal my sources, Mercy.  After all - if you came to me with a complaint about another nurse, you wouldn't want me to name you when I spoke with them, would you?"

"If I came to you with a complaint, I certainly would have spoken directly with them prior to coming to you.  In the meantime, if you have nothing further, I'll be going home now, Mr. Dacord.  It's been a long night, and I'm beat."

With that, she turned her back on him, got into the car and headed home, so angry that driving was a chore, rather than bringing the mind-numbing relief that loud tunes and solitude normally provided.

That son-of-a-bitch Dacord may have been addressing his remarks to her, but if you'd used his eye contact alone, he'd have been talking to her boobs.

Yeah, a cup of coffee with that slimeball was just what she needed...

That and a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

Her friends all thought she was paranoid, but Dacord was pretty much what was making her job at the hospital suck.  It seemed like every time she turned around, he was there - staring at her.

He was constantly bothering her to "Go out for coffee & talk about it", with it being something new & stupid every time.  She'd complain, but there was no one to complain to - he was the hospital administrator, the court of last resort.

He'd gotten pushier lately, cornering her in the break room or in hallways, catching her out by her car.  If something didn't give soon, she'd have to find a job with a different hospital.

The apartment building pulled into sight as she fumed.

About time.

Walking up to her doorway, she couldn't get that swine Dacord out of her mind.  She didn't know what she'd done to attract his attention, but she was tired of it.  Something had to give.  She was even a little suspicious that he'd been in her apartment while she was at work.  Several times in the past month or so, she'd come home to find things ever so slightly out of place. Nothing really provable if she called the police, no signs of break-in, just things feeling wrong, out of place.

Until the last time...

About a week ago she'd walked in to find a single red rose on her living room table.  She thought then about calling the police, but again, nothing missing, no sign of break-in, nothing damaged.

That time, she had been certain that she could smell Dacord's cologne in the air as she walked in.

The next morning, she called a friend and asked if he knew anyone with a handgun for sale.

That night, she was the owner of a Smith & Wesson "feather weight" 38 calibre revolver.  Small & easy to conceal, it went everywhere with her, travelling in her purse.  At work, she removed the hospital-provided lock on her locker, replacing it with the exact same model from a local hardware store, and left the purse & pistol in the now secure locker.  At home, it went from room to room with her, nestled between the towels as she showered, beneath her pillow as she slept.

 

I've started the ball rolling above, one of the site's surfers continues it.

To add to the story, E-mail Me with your paragraph(s) picking up where I left off.  You can continue in the serious vein I started, or go comical, gothic or wherever your mind wanders.  Make sure you specify which "Tale" you're adding to, (eg: Tale One, Tale 2, etc.)

I pick the best submission, and post it to continue the story.  Then I wait for more submissions continuing from where the last submission left off, or I add my own again.

Pretty simple...

Let me know in your E-mail if you'd like your E-Mail address or URL posted at the end of your "chapter".