Dedicated to sophire_

CHAPTER FOUR

THERE are days we find ourselves running; running to save someone, running away from someone, running from our nightmares etc, but the race I was on now was the race to save myself from running. 

Yes, I am running to stop myself from running anymore.

That was why when I entered the building and was confronted by an intimidating stairs and an unavailable elevator, I just took the former. I didn't have the time to spare in waiting for the elevator, even if it would prove to be more efficient.

I couldn't lose more time.

Two at a time, that was how I confronted my adversary and in no time at all, I was on the third floor where the interview was scheduled to take place; only I was sweating profusely with my heart pounding on a higher frequency. I was also looking wet and dishevelled, considering how I had looked in the mirror this morning, it was safe to assume I was looking like a crazy person or at the very least, a very much disturbed one.

I followed the hallway staring at the name tag on each door. It was strange, the hallway lacked any life-like activity; virtually empty with no one in sight. Nevertheless, I kept on following the rugged hallway painted lemon-green and lined with beautiful paintings at regular intervals-in between two doors anyway. There were eight doors on the floor.

There was one painting however that got my attention; it was of a muddied boy taking a snap at a beautiful portrait of cat and dog laughing and holding hands, there was something in the boy's eyes that held me captive, a rare kind of hunger which the painter caught amazingly.

And yet as I lingered, my mind was brewing with a new kind of worry. It was strange but there was something more wrong than the wrong I was worried about. I feared it was something else; the materialisation of my biggest fear about the interview been over and I had missed it.

My despair increased tenfold with each step I took as did my fear. There was something sinister about the silence and it reeked of an undiluted danger. Nevertheless, I didn't let that dampen my spirit. I kept on moving my soundless heels forward even though each step was heavier than the last. I needed to try my luck and if I am lucky, great, and if otherwise, well I didn't want to think about that. I'll just have to cross that bridge when I get there, but first I need to find the-,

CEO's office.

I smiled at the door in front of me. Taking a deep breath, I straightened out my ruffled suit and knocked on the door before turning its knob. But nothing! The door was closed.

"No, no, no, please, God, please, please...," I cried, trying the knob again and again. And yet nothing changed. I tried knocking, but it was to no avail either. All my mind could think was that I am finished. Kaput, the end!

I found myself slipping down to the floor from the door I had leaned on, until I finally reached down. I can't believe I had missed the interview. My life was officially over.

Reima Ahmad is finished!

That was all my pained brain could think of, and probably, what would you do now, Reima? I just felt helpless and hopeless, and I didn't know how to deal with this specific scenario. I had planned for every scenario and even have my consolation speech for not passing the interview ready, and yet here I was devastated. God, I didn't have a plan for not doing the interview at all. I didn't even know that was a possibility.

I stood up abruptly as if pricked and began knocking the door again. I just couldn't give up, I simply couldn't.

Moreover, I was only a few minutes late-just eighteen minutes late, it was impossible for them to have concluded the interviews that fast. It was at this moment that something struck me.

Today is monday, why then are the offices locked? I frowned.

The reception area was empty too when I had ran in earlier, I had been too distraught to have dwelled on the reason why. But right now, it seems strange for a big company like this to be without staffs on a Monday morning. What in God's name was happening?

Not letting my fear take ahold of me, I knocked on the door again. Only this time my fear had materialized with every echo sent back to me.

Moments later, I looked fearfully around for a proof of life or anything, but there was none; from all indications, it seemed I am all alone. At a loss on what next to do, I found myself hitting my head slowly against the emblem on the door, hoping this whole silence would become one of my many nightmares, for I fear I have just lost my chance at sanity.

"What do you think you are doing?" A familiar voice startled me from behind.

Slowly, I turned around. I hadn't heard him approaching. It was the stranger from the car ride. I thought he had left but apparently not.

"What do you think you are doing?" He repeated raking at me from head to toe. He was at least 5ft 2inches tall and maybe .2 inches taller than me, athletically built like I had suspected earlier and must be in his late twenties or at most early thirties.

"Nothing," I croaked with my voice thickening from the unused tears which was lingering near my eyes.

"Nothing?" He sounded skeptical

I cleared my throat, " Yes, nothing." My voice was tinged a bit with my flaring annoyance but if he noticed, he wasn't showing.

He folded his arms against his chest whilst his eyes held me on.

"Well-" I began

He nodded his head gently, as if urging me on.

"Well-," I glanced around and saw the envelope with my CV lying on the floor. I had forgotten I had pulled it out of my bag when I got to the third floor. "Nothing,"

"You were hitting your head on my door, how not nothing was that?"

"I wasn't-

Wait? His door? What the hell does that mean?

I looked up strangely at him and found he was still staring expectantly at me.

"Um...," I cleared my throat, "I'm here for the interview."

"What interview?" It was now his turn to stare strangely at me, but I couldn't understand why he was. He just said this was his office or was he lying? I looked at him suspiciously.

"What interview?" He asked again still staring oddly at me.

"The job interview scheduled for today," I answered staring at his blank expression. It was as if he thought me mad or something. One thing is for certain though, one of us was definitely mad.

"Oh yes....for REHAN publishing, isn't it?" He asked his face suddenly showing cognizance.

"Yes, for REHAN publishing." I confirmed

"I'm taking it that you've not heard?"

"Heard what?" I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

"REHAN publishing was shut down a week ago,"

"Was what?" I shouted unable to hide my shock, "How? Why?"

"The owner died!"

"The owner did what?" I asked wide-eyed with shock

No, this couldn't be happening, not today, not now. How can a multi-billion company shut down just like that? And him, why was he here? Who the hell was he?

"Have you been living in a box," He sounded shocked. "Who haven't heard of the plane crash a month ago, that took the whole family of the billionaire Hassan Jibo, only his son survived. And that was because he was delayed and couldn't make the flight."

Of course I had. The whole country had. It happened on  the day I wrote my application. I remembered feeling distraught about the whole news that I had nightmares for days. I had envied and pitied the successor to such a megalomerate empire.

Who would have thought my life ended that day as well?

"I did hear about the plane crash, but I never linked it to REHAN." I admitted solemnly the wave of disaster finally crushing me.

It was really the end for me, I thought as I slid down to the floor.

* * *

"I don't know what this job meant to you, but I think there's still hope," I looked up at him with my eyes shining with renewed vigor.

There's a chance! There is a chance for me. Oh God! Thank you.

He, however, shifted uncomfortably from the weight of my gaze

"It's not as if I am trying to give you any assurance or anything, but Aman, the new owner of this company might be hiring soon- that is if he gets convinced to stay in the country,"

"Is he leaving?" I asked sharply, my heart taking in a somersault in and out of the hope zone.

"Yes, he leaves in three days, if you can somehow convince him to stay behind and open the company then-," He left his next words hanging. It was for me to fill with my imaginations and that I had lots of.

It wasn't a bad idea; actually it was an excellent idea. But how do I convince him to open up the company which must be filled with beautiful memories of what he once had? Or at most make him stay in the country in just three days? How? How?

"Do you think it's possible?" I asked cautiously after wrestling with my mind for a few more minute. It was obvious I was getting nowhere. "And how? I've never even met the man. I don't even know what he even looks like nor his likes or dislikes, how do I convince such a person and in just three days"

He shrugged, "I guess you'll just have to find out now, don't you? The main question is are you willing to try?"

I looked warily at the man. I had just met him barely thirty minutes ago and even if he had been kind, I didn't know a thing about him. He was a stranger still as I was to him so why would he want me close to this Aman? Why would he trust me, a complete stranger? Or was there a secret reason for all this? I stared cautiously at the man, I wouldn't want to go to jail for trusting the wrong stranger.

"Well, are you?" He asked again with his voice tinged with a faint trace of impatience.

Three days? A voice in my head reminded me. I wasn't sure if I could pull it off and I was still feeling uneasy about this whole thing, but I also know that if I let this opportunity go, I will regret it. I guess my decision is made.

"You don't even know me-," I began but he cut me off.

"Does it matter? I am offering you an opportunity to turn things around. The question is would you take it?"

I thought about it for a moment and realized he was right. It might be the fear talking but I nodded,

"Yes."

He smiled very brightly, revealing a beautiful set of teeth. The smile was so bright that I feared maybe there was something he wasn't saying, but I quickly shook off that thought. It was probably because he wanted to help this Aman person and moreover, I am glad for such an opportunity. I was going to think positive.

"But how?" I asked suddenly alarmed.

"By first introducing ourselves," he smiled and in that smile I could read a million things most of which I fear were unpleasant.

"Reima Ahmad," I said somewhat reluctantly. I was suddenly feeling uneasy.

He grinned widely. "Nice meeting you, Reima. I am Aman, Aman Hassan Jibo."