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Today, the Supervisor might laugh, basking in the illusion of control, but tomorrow, with Ellie by my side, we’d have the last laugh.
9
ELLIE
The Supervisor’s office was an expansive chamber, adorned with oddities and trophies that screamed of a mind that reveled in its conquests.
As I entered, the strong aroma of aged leather and an overly sweet, underlying scent — perhaps a fragrant flower? — greeted me.
Despite the opulence and grandeur, a cold chill enveloped the room, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I could hear the subtle hum of the climate control system, mingled with the distant murmur of the guards standing to attention outside.
The velvety floor under my shoes felt both luxurious and unsettling, as I imagined where the soft fabric might have been sourced from.
The hind of some unfortunate beast, no doubt.
But what drew my attention the most were what adorned the shelves.
They were lined with items that, upon closer examination, made my stomach churn.
Hollowed-out alien skulls neatly arranged among ornate vases and shimmering crystals.
They varied in size, some as large as my head and others, heartbreakingly smaller.
Next to each skull was a small plaque, describing the species and planet of origin.
It was a macabre museum, showcasing the breadth of the Supervisor’s reach and cruelty.
While I had come to appreciate the vastness of the universe and the myriad of species it housed, these tangible remnants were a jarring reminder of the dominion one being could exert over so many.
The smooth, cool texture of the skulls as I gingerly touched one only intensified the sorrow and disgust I felt.
I had to swallow hard to push the bile down.
As the Supervisor’s ornate doors slid open with a faint hiss, a chill, unlike the climate-controlled ambiance of the building, wrapped around me.
He stepped into the office, his tall frame casting an elongated round shadow that seemed to stretch beyond the bounds of the chamber. “You like my collection?”
The voice, dripping with pride, jolted me out of my morose contemplation.
The Supervisor sat at his desk, observing me closely, his fingers drumming softly against the polished wood, producing a rhythm that somehow added to the eerie ambiance.
I hesitated for a moment, choosing my words carefully. “It’s… extensive,” I finally said, avoiding his gaze.
He chuckled, the sound reminiscent of ice clinking against glass. “Each item tells a story. A memory of my achievements. A testament to my growing power.”
The reality of my betrayal weighed heavily on me.
I felt the guilt gnawing away inside, reminding me that by helping Ceara, I was actively working against this formidable figure before me.
While the Supervisor’s actions were deplorable, there was an undeniable connection between us.
A connection I wished didn’t exist.
Taking a deep breath to steel myself, I responded:
“And yet, memories can be fleeting, can’t they? Power, even more so.”
