I walked out of the breakroom, my legs feeling heavy and stiff.

Frank followed close behind me, his boots clicking on the floor.

The plastic vial in my apron pocket felt incredibly heavy.

If I flushed it, I would lose the only proof I had against Mrs. Higgins.

If I kept it, I would be caught and blamed for everything.

We reached the hallway restroom.

“Two minutes, Cameron,” Frank said, standing by the door frame.

I stepped inside and locked the door behind me.

The bathroom was small, tiled in cold black marble.

I leaned against the sink, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

I pulled the small plastic vial out of my pocket.

The milky white liquid sloshed inside.

I looked at the toilet, then at the small ventilation grate near the floor.

If I threw it away, Mrs. Higgins would win.

I had to hide it where no one would look.

The vent had a loose screw in the bottom corner.

I knelt on the cold floor and used my fingernail to turn the screw.

It was stubborn, but it finally gave way, scraping against my skin.