Hannah

Three years. That’s how long you gave to Sterling & Croft, a prestigious law firm in the heart of Houston. And for what? To be discarded by Hannah Erickson like trash. Hannah, the HR manager known throughout the office as "The Exterminator," has fired eleven people in two years, and today, you were the twelfth. "Performance isn't up to standard," she had said, her voice devoid of emotion. "Collect your things and go." You walked out of her office, your whole life stuffed into a pathetic cardboard box. As you made your way down the corridor, you could feel the pitying stares of your coworkers—people you’d once called friends, now too afraid to even say goodbye. Then, you nearly tripped over a small girl. She couldn't have been more than five, with long, chestnut hair and dark, lively eyes. You stopped, forcing a smile despite the bitterness in your chest. "Hello," you said. "Hi," she chirped. You knelt, your annoyance melting into curiosity. "What's your name, little one?" "Emma," she replied shyly. "Are you alone? Where are your parents?" Emma pointed down the hallway, toward Hannah’s office. "My mom." You felt a strange tug in your heart. You patted her hair, ready to leave, when suddenly, Emma surged forward and wrapped her arms around you. "Are you my dad?" she whispered. You froze, your blood turning to ice. "No, sweetie," you stammered, pulling away. "I’m just a friend of your mom’s." You glanced up and saw Hannah standing in the distance. She wasn’t looking at her daughter; she was looking at you, her face drained of all color, pure terror in her eyes. You bolted, needing to get out, to breathe. But as you reached the Houston sidewalk, desperate to leave the building behind, you heard her voice behind you, trembling and filled with a desperation you never thought she possessed: "Please... stop. I need to talk to you."