twispitefic

Title: Woes of Gianna
Author: mage_apprentice
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 801
Inspiration: New Moon; chapter 22: Flight; the situation behind the receptionist hired by the Volturi.
Warnings: Although occasional, it has severe swearing. Some descriptions may be a little graphic.
Summary: Bella and Edward's condensation towards Gianna is unwarranted.

“Does she know what’s going on here?”

I keep my eyes to my desktop.

“Yes. She knows everything.”

Young man, I hear the condemnation in your tone. Let me tell you that it’s completely unwarranted.

“Does she know they’re going to kill her someday?”

Do you hear the screams from the massacre in the other room? I certainly do.

“She knows it’s a possibility.”

A quick glance shows me the shock in the girl’s face. Is she seriously that stupid? How could anyone not understand that there’s a possibility of death when vampires are involved?

“She’s hoping they’ll decide to keep her.”

Again, your condemnation is unwarranted.

“She wants to be one of them?” After a pause, the girl says, “How can she want that? How can she watch those people file through to that hideous room and want to be part of that?”

Even though my face remains unchanged, my mind screams with rage.

First of all, to the both of you, you can go fuck yourselves.

Secondly, I had no choice in the matter. There was nothing in my contract about vampires when I signed it. I only wanted a simple job to pay the bills. Now I’m dancing on thin ice just to keep my potential murderers happy. Giggle when Felix flirts; cower under Jane and Alec; be generally in awe of every single sparkling vampire around; don’t visually react to the deaths in the “dinning room.” Really, I could have postit notes about each and every little detail to my act. At this point, I have it down to a science. Only Aro knows of the charade, all because of one simple handshake between employer and employee.

Again, I must emphasis; I didn’t ask to be in this position. Some sparkling idiot fed in a specific room I needed to retrieve something in and left the door wide open. At least vomiting in the bathroom and an unusually pale complexion allowed me to be dismissed early and call in sick the next day with “the flu.” I might not have been able to put up some sort of façade in self-defense while I searched for an escape that would later be denied by Aro’s handshake.

My only way to keep my life now is to become one of these monsters.

And now here you two are, with your holier-than-thou act, telling each other what a horrible person I am. Is it really so horrible that I want to live? Is my preference to become a vampire over becoming another missing corpse drained of blood really that bad? Do you think that I’m not going to at least try alternative “diets” before killing an innocent person, or does that not cross your mind at all, you sick son of a bitch?

Then, to make matters worse, the girl asks to her blood-sucking boyfriend, “Is it really sick for me to be happy right now?”

My fingers pause at the keyboard as I take in that one sentence.

Then I make a retreat to the bathroom.

Upon arriving, I stare into the mirror and force myself to keep even breaths.

YES, IT REALLY IS SICK FOR YOU TO BE HAPPY RIGHT NOW!

If I could hear those agonizing cries for help, then so could you! My response is to force a pleasant façade and break down once I’m in the comfort of my lonely home. I got “used” to those screams in the sense that a person’s body gets “used” to grievous injuries. If my body resembled my emotional state over this, I would be covered in horrific scars. Really, the fact that these idiots holding my life at ransom think that I can’t hear their “activities” is very telling. I must wonder how many other people were forced into the same situation as I am. How many of my human coworkers are forced to put on the same façade as I am? We could start our own little club over this.

Your response to countless murders just down the hall is to ignore them in favor of fondling your boyfriend’s face! You shouldn’t be happy! You should be horrified! Go check yourself into an institution!

If God has a single ounce of mercy, you and your vampire friends will be gone by the time I get to my desk. With everything that I go through on a daily basis, I don’t need little twats like you pushing my temper and testing the limits of my charade. Mine is a delicate situation; yours is a wet dream about yourself.

When I finally return to my desk, the girl and her boyfriend are gone. I turn back to my computer and continue my work. The clicks from each struck key echoes through the silent room.

And so my act continues.