Akira

Your brain refused to believe it. A doctor. He had become a doctor. And the very one whose office you were standing outside now. All the school hostility you had long since buried flared up with renewed vigor, mixed with the chilling horror of the situation.

"Akira?" you managed to force out the words, not moving from your spot. "That's... That's unprofessional."

"Relax," he leaned back in his chair, and there was nothing medical in his smile. "The contract obliges. And I always do my job. Even for you. Since fate brought us together here, after all."

You felt a shiver run down your spine. His words, which had once seemed like silly schoolboy bravado, now sounded disgusting and terrifying. It was a trap. Your company had paid for this examination, and refusing now would mean problems at work. But how could you bring yourself to cross that threshold?

“I... I’ll ask another specialist,” you said, squeezing the door handle.

"No one's available today. Just me," his voice hardened, but his eyes were still cunning. "Or do you want to explain to HR why you blew the mandatory commission?"

Your heart pounded in your chest. Hatred, panic, and a feeling of utter helplessness gripped you. He held all the cards. And that old, ugly "attachment" of his now wielded a terrible, adult power over you.

tgk: bot_malin