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Trust Can Kill You...Or Set You Free
Part I
by Melinda Coates
Trust can kill you or set you free. That is what she used to say. I still felt her presence with me even after all these years though I could never bring myself to say her name out loud, or even dare to think it – except in the screams of my nightmares.
It must be this place, being back here, that finally allowed me – or forced me – to acknowledge her, to acknowledge her name.Catherine Parker. Angel, saint, protector, martyr, victim. An angel now in truth if you believed in such things. God, how I wished she were here with me now – to protect me and comfort me in this terrifying place called The Centre – and from those who dwelt within.
Trust can kill you or set you free. Had Catherine made a fatal error by trusting someone she shouldn't have? I didn't have theanswer to that question but, after a decade out in the real world, I was determined to go back to do something about all those unanswered questions.
No more could I pretend… I grimaced at the word… that the first fifteen years of my life had all been just a bad dream. Ten years on, I was now 25 and still afraid all the time, always looking over my shoulder expecting to see ominous dark-suited men with their ominous dark cars watching me, waiting to make their move – either to take me back to where they thought I belonged or to kill me.
The first option seemed worse than the second somehow. And yet, here I was. However, I had returned to The Centre of my own free will and most importantly, on my own terms. If I kept my head and didn't let my guard down then maybe, just maybe, I would make it out of this alive. And hopefully, with my sanity intact.
Finding the answers to the questions surrounding Catherine's death – murder! The word screamed in my head and I pushed the dark images aside roughly – was not my only mission here. Answers to questions. Debts to be repaid. Justice.
Perhaps even a little revenge. More important than anything else – resolution, closure, a chance to move on.
I knew that it was unlikely to ever be over for me. They say you can never escape The Centre. That is because even if you do escape you can never put it behind you. You will never be free. The Centre owns you – if not your body then your mind, your spirit, your soul.
I suppressed a shudder as I entered the huge forbidding complex that was The Centre. Not even the Sweeper maintaining the security of the Staff entrance gave me a second glance as I progressed through the various clearances to get inside. No-one found a secretary like me threatening. I was just another of the faceless workers – the secretaries, janitors, electricians, accountants, plumbers. No-one remembered that I was once here before – that now I was being paid to work for The Centre instead of being held prisoner by them.
I had to smile at the irony of that. And at how simple it had been to get this job. No computer hacking or forgery required apart from originally changing my name and identity when I had first left The Centre. All I had done was bide my time until a position became vacant in the Administration Department. It didn't take long because people didn't really like working there especially at the bottom of the pecking order.
I had applied, enclosing an impeccable reference from my former employer. He was also my only friend in the world and, as I requested, he had included in the reference all the sorts of qualities that The Centre would be looking for in an employee discretion, efficiency, loyalty (I had worked for him for almost all the ten years I'd been 'out') and a subtle suggestion that I would not be inclined to attempt to rise above my current occupation. There were plenty of people already at the top trying towrest power from one another without the Administration Department trying to join in!
After receiving my application, they had granted me an interview immediately and it had been extremely easy to convince them that I was perfectly suited to work there. It helped that most of the other applicants who had been granted interviews didn't actually make it because one look inside The Centre and they had made a dash for it. In fact, while I was in the reception area waiting I heard one girl mutter before leaving, "No way. Forget it. I can easily get a job somewhere that actually has windows. Natural light is a good thing!"
Anyone desperate enough for employment to actually make it to their interview could not compete with my skills and qualifications. I was offered the job on the spot.
Since then I had been working hard to impress my new boss, the Administration Manager, Mr Jones. He was an unauspicious, but very dedicated man who was sick of being treated with contempt by his superiors as if he and his work weren't important. Of course, those in power were much too busy watching their backs whilst sticking knives in their colleagues' backs to consider paperwork to be worthy of notice. Unless the paperwork came back to bite them on the ass. That didn't happen very often at all due to Mr Jones' attention to detail and most mistakes were because of the executive's own sloppiness. I thought it was a shame that the only time attention was drawn to Mr Jones was when things went wrong – especially as in the month I had been working with him I had seen him, through his efficiency, save a lot of people's jobs – and since this was The Centre – perhaps their lives.
I mentioned this to him casually one day about a week before – about how if only they could see how important he was to their survival and therefore, how inherently powerful he could be, then imagine how they would all come crawling to him.
"Do you really think I'm powerful?" He had asked in wonder, the idea appealing to him.
"Oh yes, Mr Jones," I'd assured him. "Just think, with your expertise in this area, you could get practically anything done – or not done – around here if you wanted. For example, think of what harm you could do to one of the executives just by stuffing around with their paperwork."
He had grinned. "Oh, that would be so much fun. Can you imagine? They probably wouldn't even suspect me!"
I began to wonder for a second if I had created a monster but I knew him well enough to know that he was not interested at all in scrambling for the top. All he wanted was a little bit of respect – and that his self-respect was more important to him than earning other people's. He would be a good ally on my quest even if he didn't know my true motives or goals.
The reason I could judge him so well after only a month was because I too was powerful. Much more powerful than Mr Jones, however. More powerful than even The Centre had realised whilst I had been their 'guest'. I had hid my talents well and for good reason. I was 'special' – even now the word sent chills down my spine and sent a silent voice, my own voice, shrieking in my head "I'm not special… don't say I'm a Pretender!! Please, God, I'm not a Pretender!" – and The Centre would never ever have let me go so easily if they had known the things that I could do. Never.
I wandered into Mr Jones' office with the words still rolling around in my head, the words from my nightmares.
"Good morning, Melinda." He looked up cheerily. He had become a lot happier and content since I had been around. I had that effect on people. I know what they want me to be – and therefore, how to get what I want from them.
"Morning, Mr Jones." I replied, checking through his Out-Tray to see what work it contained for me.
"Melinda, I've been thinking about what you said last week. About how I could be quite powerful if I wanted to put my mind to a task."
"Yes…" I replied hesitantly wondering where this was going. I hoped he wasn't going to take on the Triumverate or anything stupid but knew this wouldn't be the case.
"Well, I've decided to test my skills on a certain project." He announced.
"What kind of project, Mr Jones?"
"You, my dear, you." He smiled.
For a second I panicked. 'Project' was another word that set off warning bells in my system. The Pretender Project. Yet I knew that wasn't what he meant – and I sensed that his intentions weren't amorous either. I breathed a sigh of relief – it wasn't that he was unappealing, in fact he was a really nice guy and I liked him very much. Another time, and another world, it might have worked – he was only about ten years older than me and quite attractive in a rumpled bookish kind of way – but I had things to accomplish, a lot of emotional baggage and… Trust can kill you or set you free. Catherine was certainly on my mind a lot these days – and her saying about trust which was forever highlighted for me by her death.
Of course, it was hard not to think of her when every time I went on an errand, I couldn't help but see the hole still left in the elevator wall. A bullet hole. Why on earth had they not repaired that in all these years? It was left as a message from The Centre to deter all opposition. I would not be deterred. I owed Catherine that much.
He went on. "As much as I like working with you, Melinda, I know you're not happy here in this department."
"Oh no!" I assured him. "I like the work very much."
He waved a hand for me to sit down. "I don't mean the work. I mean the people. You're a bit of a loner and I know you worked as a personal assistant to one person for almost ten years. I was just thinking that you might be happier working as a personal assistant again."
"I'm practically your personal assistant now." I pointed out, scarcely daring to breathe. This was going better than I had ever expected.
"Well that's true – and your work is exemplary, I must say – but…" he trailed off for a moment, trying to find the right words. "The thing is, if you want – and only if you want, you understand, there's no pressure – I can pull some strings and get you transferred somewhere where you can work more on your own – not as just some part of the administrative team." He finished off in a rush, extraordinarily pleased with the idea – and desperate for me to accept his offer of help.
"You'd do that for me?"
He nodded. "Anywhere you want to go, anyone you want to work for – just tell me and I'll see what I can do with these administrative powers you've been telling me I have."
I didn't want to appear too eager, and I knew that I should probably tell him that I'd think about it, but I couldn't wait any longer. Besides, anything to get out of that department filled with naïve gossiping women who thought The Centre was just a place with a lot of office politics. Some days it had taken all my strength not to scream at them – to tell them that not watching your back would not only mean you got passed up for promotion but could also mean something like maybe losing your thumb.
I tried to speak casually. "You know, I think you're right. I would like to be a personal assistant again – just working for one person or even a few. I would miss working for you though." I added hastily. And I meant it.
He smiled happily. "I'll miss you too. Come on, tell me who you've got in mind. I can tell you already know who you want to work with."
And I thought I was supposed to be the one who could read people's thoughts… "Okay, well there is someone whose personal assistant I'd be interested in being…"
"Go on," he prompted.
I hesitated, this could be the moment of truth. "I'd kinda like to work with Miss Parker actually."
He spluttered in shock. "Miss Parker?! You have to be out of your mind! That ice cold bitc…?" He composed himself. "Sorry. Are you sure that's what you want?"
I nodded, my heart pounding. Please don't say no, I begged silently.
"May I ask why?" he enquired. "Are you perchance a masochist or something?"
I laughed lightly. "I know it sounds dumb but I think it would be a challenge. Plus it helps my career prospects since her father is Mr Parker. Not to mention her brother being Mr Lyle."
"Well you could be right about Mr Parker. But I have to warn you – although she works with Mr Lyle, they're hardly playing cosy families up there. Word is they practically loathe each other. As for the challenge aspect.. that's an understatement." He shook his head. "Are you really positive you want to mix yourself up in all that?"
Well, did I? Did I really want to do this? I could easily resign from The Centre, return to my former employer - my lovely computer nerd - and spend the rest of my days hiding in his house with nothing in my life to worry about except helping him run his company... and my nightmares. No, I couldn't hide forever - I had been doing that for nearly ten years and it could go on no longer. I had come this far - there was no backing out now.
I smiled grimly. "I'm positive. Prepare to flex those admin muscles, boss. I'm ready to move up in the world." And onto the next phase of my plans, I added silently. Heaven help anyone who dared stand in my way.
Trust Can Kill You...Or Set You Free
Part I
by Melinda Coates
Trust can kill you or set you free. That is what she used to say. I still felt her presence with me even after all these years though I could never bring myself to say her name out loud, or even dare to think it – except in the screams of my nightmares.
It must be this place, being back here, that finally allowed me – or forced me – to acknowledge her, to acknowledge her name.Catherine Parker. Angel, saint, protector, martyr, victim. An angel now in truth if you believed in such things. God, how I wished she were here with me now – to protect me and comfort me in this terrifying place called The Centre – and from those who dwelt within.
Trust can kill you or set you free. Had Catherine made a fatal error by trusting someone she shouldn't have? I didn't have theanswer to that question but, after a decade out in the real world, I was determined to go back to do something about all those unanswered questions.
No more could I pretend… I grimaced at the word… that the first fifteen years of my life had all been just a bad dream. Ten years on, I was now 25 and still afraid all the time, always looking over my shoulder expecting to see ominous dark-suited men with their ominous dark cars watching me, waiting to make their move – either to take me back to where they thought I belonged or to kill me.
The first option seemed worse than the second somehow. And yet, here I was. However, I had returned to The Centre of my own free will and most importantly, on my own terms. If I kept my head and didn't let my guard down then maybe, just maybe, I would make it out of this alive. And hopefully, with my sanity intact.
Finding the answers to the questions surrounding Catherine's death – murder! The word screamed in my head and I pushed the dark images aside roughly – was not my only mission here. Answers to questions. Debts to be repaid. Justice.
Perhaps even a little revenge. More important than anything else – resolution, closure, a chance to move on.
I knew that it was unlikely to ever be over for me. They say you can never escape The Centre. That is because even if you do escape you can never put it behind you. You will never be free. The Centre owns you – if not your body then your mind, your spirit, your soul.
I suppressed a shudder as I entered the huge forbidding complex that was The Centre. Not even the Sweeper maintaining the security of the Staff entrance gave me a second glance as I progressed through the various clearances to get inside. No-one found a secretary like me threatening. I was just another of the faceless workers – the secretaries, janitors, electricians, accountants, plumbers. No-one remembered that I was once here before – that now I was being paid to work for The Centre instead of being held prisoner by them.
I had to smile at the irony of that. And at how simple it had been to get this job. No computer hacking or forgery required apart from originally changing my name and identity when I had first left The Centre. All I had done was bide my time until a position became vacant in the Administration Department. It didn't take long because people didn't really like working there especially at the bottom of the pecking order.
I had applied, enclosing an impeccable reference from my former employer. He was also my only friend in the world and, as I requested, he had included in the reference all the sorts of qualities that The Centre would be looking for in an employee discretion, efficiency, loyalty (I had worked for him for almost all the ten years I'd been 'out') and a subtle suggestion that I would not be inclined to attempt to rise above my current occupation. There were plenty of people already at the top trying towrest power from one another without the Administration Department trying to join in!
After receiving my application, they had granted me an interview immediately and it had been extremely easy to convince them that I was perfectly suited to work there. It helped that most of the other applicants who had been granted interviews didn't actually make it because one look inside The Centre and they had made a dash for it. In fact, while I was in the reception area waiting I heard one girl mutter before leaving, "No way. Forget it. I can easily get a job somewhere that actually has windows. Natural light is a good thing!"
Anyone desperate enough for employment to actually make it to their interview could not compete with my skills and qualifications. I was offered the job on the spot.
Since then I had been working hard to impress my new boss, the Administration Manager, Mr Jones. He was an unauspicious, but very dedicated man who was sick of being treated with contempt by his superiors as if he and his work weren't important. Of course, those in power were much too busy watching their backs whilst sticking knives in their colleagues' backs to consider paperwork to be worthy of notice. Unless the paperwork came back to bite them on the ass. That didn't happen very often at all due to Mr Jones' attention to detail and most mistakes were because of the executive's own sloppiness. I thought it was a shame that the only time attention was drawn to Mr Jones was when things went wrong – especially as in the month I had been working with him I had seen him, through his efficiency, save a lot of people's jobs – and since this was The Centre – perhaps their lives.
I mentioned this to him casually one day about a week before – about how if only they could see how important he was to their survival and therefore, how inherently powerful he could be, then imagine how they would all come crawling to him.
"Do you really think I'm powerful?" He had asked in wonder, the idea appealing to him.
"Oh yes, Mr Jones," I'd assured him. "Just think, with your expertise in this area, you could get practically anything done – or not done – around here if you wanted. For example, think of what harm you could do to one of the executives just by stuffing around with their paperwork."
He had grinned. "Oh, that would be so much fun. Can you imagine? They probably wouldn't even suspect me!"
I began to wonder for a second if I had created a monster but I knew him well enough to know that he was not interested at all in scrambling for the top. All he wanted was a little bit of respect – and that his self-respect was more important to him than earning other people's. He would be a good ally on my quest even if he didn't know my true motives or goals.
The reason I could judge him so well after only a month was because I too was powerful. Much more powerful than Mr Jones, however. More powerful than even The Centre had realised whilst I had been their 'guest'. I had hid my talents well and for good reason. I was 'special' – even now the word sent chills down my spine and sent a silent voice, my own voice, shrieking in my head "I'm not special… don't say I'm a Pretender!! Please, God, I'm not a Pretender!" – and The Centre would never ever have let me go so easily if they had known the things that I could do. Never.
I wandered into Mr Jones' office with the words still rolling around in my head, the words from my nightmares.
"Good morning, Melinda." He looked up cheerily. He had become a lot happier and content since I had been around. I had that effect on people. I know what they want me to be – and therefore, how to get what I want from them.
"Morning, Mr Jones." I replied, checking through his Out-Tray to see what work it contained for me.
"Melinda, I've been thinking about what you said last week. About how I could be quite powerful if I wanted to put my mind to a task."
"Yes…" I replied hesitantly wondering where this was going. I hoped he wasn't going to take on the Triumverate or anything stupid but knew this wouldn't be the case.
"Well, I've decided to test my skills on a certain project." He announced.
"What kind of project, Mr Jones?"
"You, my dear, you." He smiled.
For a second I panicked. 'Project' was another word that set off warning bells in my system. The Pretender Project. Yet I knew that wasn't what he meant – and I sensed that his intentions weren't amorous either. I breathed a sigh of relief – it wasn't that he was unappealing, in fact he was a really nice guy and I liked him very much. Another time, and another world, it might have worked – he was only about ten years older than me and quite attractive in a rumpled bookish kind of way – but I had things to accomplish, a lot of emotional baggage and… Trust can kill you or set you free. Catherine was certainly on my mind a lot these days – and her saying about trust which was forever highlighted for me by her death.
Of course, it was hard not to think of her when every time I went on an errand, I couldn't help but see the hole still left in the elevator wall. A bullet hole. Why on earth had they not repaired that in all these years? It was left as a message from The Centre to deter all opposition. I would not be deterred. I owed Catherine that much.
He went on. "As much as I like working with you, Melinda, I know you're not happy here in this department."
"Oh no!" I assured him. "I like the work very much."
He waved a hand for me to sit down. "I don't mean the work. I mean the people. You're a bit of a loner and I know you worked as a personal assistant to one person for almost ten years. I was just thinking that you might be happier working as a personal assistant again."
"I'm practically your personal assistant now." I pointed out, scarcely daring to breathe. This was going better than I had ever expected.
"Well that's true – and your work is exemplary, I must say – but…" he trailed off for a moment, trying to find the right words. "The thing is, if you want – and only if you want, you understand, there's no pressure – I can pull some strings and get you transferred somewhere where you can work more on your own – not as just some part of the administrative team." He finished off in a rush, extraordinarily pleased with the idea – and desperate for me to accept his offer of help.
"You'd do that for me?"
He nodded. "Anywhere you want to go, anyone you want to work for – just tell me and I'll see what I can do with these administrative powers you've been telling me I have."
I didn't want to appear too eager, and I knew that I should probably tell him that I'd think about it, but I couldn't wait any longer. Besides, anything to get out of that department filled with naïve gossiping women who thought The Centre was just a place with a lot of office politics. Some days it had taken all my strength not to scream at them – to tell them that not watching your back would not only mean you got passed up for promotion but could also mean something like maybe losing your thumb.
I tried to speak casually. "You know, I think you're right. I would like to be a personal assistant again – just working for one person or even a few. I would miss working for you though." I added hastily. And I meant it.
He smiled happily. "I'll miss you too. Come on, tell me who you've got in mind. I can tell you already know who you want to work with."
And I thought I was supposed to be the one who could read people's thoughts… "Okay, well there is someone whose personal assistant I'd be interested in being…"
"Go on," he prompted.
I hesitated, this could be the moment of truth. "I'd kinda like to work with Miss Parker actually."
He spluttered in shock. "Miss Parker?! You have to be out of your mind! That ice cold bitc…?" He composed himself. "Sorry. Are you sure that's what you want?"
I nodded, my heart pounding. Please don't say no, I begged silently.
"May I ask why?" he enquired. "Are you perchance a masochist or something?"
I laughed lightly. "I know it sounds dumb but I think it would be a challenge. Plus it helps my career prospects since her father is Mr Parker. Not to mention her brother being Mr Lyle."
"Well you could be right about Mr Parker. But I have to warn you – although she works with Mr Lyle, they're hardly playing cosy families up there. Word is they practically loathe each other. As for the challenge aspect.. that's an understatement." He shook his head. "Are you really positive you want to mix yourself up in all that?"
Well, did I? Did I really want to do this? I could easily resign from The Centre, return to my former employer - my lovely computer nerd - and spend the rest of my days hiding in his house with nothing in my life to worry about except helping him run his company... and my nightmares. No, I couldn't hide forever - I had been doing that for nearly ten years and it could go on no longer. I had come this far - there was no backing out now.
I smiled grimly. "I'm positive. Prepare to flex those admin muscles, boss. I'm ready to move up in the world." And onto the next phase of my plans, I added silently. Heaven help anyone who dared stand in my way.
