Chapter 4Drenched in Bleach and Blood
About 2,005 characters (~353 words) — this is Chapter 4, the last of the 4 free chapters on EditWrx Reads.
Derek and Monica laughed, clapping like trained seals. The sheer scale of their sycophancy was almost nauseating to witness.
“Brilliant, Sloane. Truly,” Derek panted. “She’s been bleeding this company dry for years.”
“Make her write it, then throw her out so she can’t sue for a dime,” Monica agreed, grabbing a fistful of my wet hair and jerking my head back so I was forced to look up.
I thrashed violently, tearing a patch of my own hair out to bite Monica’s hand.
“Still fighting?” Derek snarled. He drew his foot back and delivered a brutal, driving kick directly into my abdomen.
The pain was blinding. I collapsed sideways, curling into a tight, agonizing ball as all the oxygen left my body.
But Derek had snapped. He kicked me again, aiming for my ribs, my stomach.
A heavy, metallic taste flooded the back of my throat. Warm blood pooled under my tongue. My vision fractured into sharp little stars.
“Stop!” a voice cracked from the edge of the room. It was Emma. “You’re killing her! She’s coughing up blood! The police are already on their way, just stop!”
Sloane’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “Who called the cops? Do you want your career over by lunchtime?”
I knew what Sloane would do to a vulnerable intern like Emma. I couldn't let her become the target.
Summoning a primal, terrifying reserve of strength, I pushed myself up onto my elbows. I locked my eyes onto Sloane’s pristine, horrified face.
And with a sharp exhale, I spat a mouthful of warm, red blood directly into her face.
“Ahhhh! Oh my God!”
The blood sprayed across her nose, her cheeks, and her crisp white silk blouse. Sloane froze for a microsecond before her brain registered the biohazard.
She erupted into a hysterical, hyperventilating scream, clawing frantically at her own face like she had been covered in acid.
“It’s dirty! Get it off! Help me, oh my god, I’m infected! I’m going to die!”
Her germaphobia wasn’t just a quirky aesthetic. It was a pathological reality.
Good. I knew exactly how to break her now.