I Took Over As My Town's Librarian For A Week And Discovered Something Fucked Up In The Basement

I Took Over As My Town’s Librarian For A Week And Discovered Something Fucked Up In The Basement

I peered out from the bookshelf I was standing near and saw the town pervert walking towards me. He had this big shit-eating grin on his face and immediately I was on high alert.

Let me give you a quick run-down on how this guy looks. He’s massive – and I don’t mean fat. He’s ridiculously tall with a fair amount of muscle bulging out of his ill-fitting and stained clothes. He lacked the capacity to understand personal hygiene, apparently, because his hair was always greasy and his breath smelled like the inside of a bat cave. He had a bad habit of getting inside a person’s personal space and leering at them, his eyes traveling shamelessly over their body. It disgusted me.

My mom had always warned me about this guy – we’ll call him Chad, for the sake of anonymity. See, Chad would try to fuck anything that moved, regardless of age or circumstance. He’d been around since I was a kid, and he had often tried to convince both me and my older sister to come into his house and talk with him, just for a moment, he had something nice to give us. He’d gotten kicked out of the library several times in the past for hitting on minors, or on my mother herself. He had wandering hands and no sense of decency.

And, at that moment, I was alone with him.

“You still working here for your ma, Cassie?” he asked easily, his steps not slowing as he approached me. I took a few instinctive steps back, putting the desk between us as a sort of barrier. Not that he couldn’t work his way around that. I wondered if I’d be able to grab my mace from my purse.

“You know I am, Chad,” I snapped, already annoyed with him. “You know you’re not supposed to be here after hours, either. You need to leave. Right now.”

He gave me an easy smile. “I just want to talk to you, sweetie. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

I felt a heave deep in my stomach at those words. I scanned my work area for my purse, but remembered all to late it wasn’t there. Fuck, I left it in the car!

“No, we’re not friends. If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to call the cops.”

About the author

Rona Vaselaar

Rona Vaselaar is a graduate from the University of Notre Dame and currently attending Johns Hopkins as a graduate student.