[ WP ] Each village has a designated `` scapegoat '' that everyone takes their issues out on . Write about the life of this person .

*Ring*. 
 
 
 Lorna froze. Her brain was telling her to calm down, to act professional, to do her duty. Her body and various other parts of her brain, however, screamed in unison. Her rational mind tried to nip this rebellion in the bud, only to find itself accused *by* those rebelling parts of being the Evil Empire. 
 
 
 This job clearly messed with her head. And she was only an intern. 
 
 
 
 Fuck. The phone had stopped ringing. Fuckfuckfuck. She was perfectly aware that it had rang five times. But see, this always happened whenever she had to answer the phone or the door - the sounds seemed to come from a parallel dimension, over which she had no conscious control. All she could do was wait until the noise went away. If only she could get away with that - what a great universe that would be - one where she only existed as an observer. 
 
 
 
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 `` Get out of your comfort zone'', her mother had told her. `` You want me to get out of my comfort zone? I bloody well will,'' she had thought, because she never sounded this assertive when she spoke. Nevertheless, Lorna agreed with her mother that it was high time she crawl out of her shell. After that exchange, she spent the entire day and night thinking about it, looking shit up on the Internet, thinking of *something* that would force her out of her rut. 
 
 
 
 The solution she came up with was radical. Even her mom had tried to talk her out of it. `` Ever heard of *baby steps*?'' she had told her. `` Fuck baby steps,'' she thought, but it probably came out more like `` m-mom, I really think that this c-ould be good for me, y'know?'' 
 
 
 
 And so, the next day, she'd gone over to Twan's house. To be honest, no one called it a *house*. People usually spoke of it as a *shack*, or a *hovel*, or a *sty*, or *his personal scrap heap*, or *that graveyard where all human dignity goes to die*. There was a lot of negativity surrounding Twan. But that had a good reason - it was his job. 
 
 
 
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 She rang Twan's doorbell, inhaling deeply. Even though she'd never been there before, she could n't help but find the sound annoying. She could n't really put a finger on *why* that was. 
 
 
 
 She did n't have to wait long. A rush of anxiety came over her as she heard him opening the door. 
 
 
 
 It all melted away when she saw him. 
 
 
 
 She was taken aback by his eyes. The kindness in them. Nobody ever said anything about that. When people had a bad day at work, they'd stop by Twan's and shout in his face. When a woman cheated on her boyfriend, the latter would send Twan a text message calling him a whore. When some kid's birthday party was ruined because it was raining and the parents had planned the entire party around the barbecue, the parents would curse Twans' stupid face, and the children would cry and call him a poopyhead. 
 
 
 
 
 And now this guy, this monster that was somehow responsible for every evil in the village, was looking at her with those unassuming eyes. 
 
 
 It was silent for a minute. Twan looked uncomfortable. Maybe he just was n't used to the neutrality. Lorna's anxiety began to rise. Then, Twan cleared his throat. 
 
 
 
 `` Ehem. You got ta problem with me?'' Lorna could n't help it. She started laughing. Nay, cackling. Twan looked utterly dumbfounded. 
 
 
 
 `` What's so funny?'' This time, he sounded confused, as opposed to wannabe tough guy. Lorna felt her cheeks flush as she tried to squeeze out some words between all of the laughter. `` Oh God - I'm so sorry - it's just - I did n't expect that...'' 
 
 
 
 Twan's confusion made way for amusement. `` Heh. To be honest, I did n't expect any of this either. Usually, folks just proceed straight to the shouting. They also do n't apologize when they laugh in my face.'' 
 
 
 
 `` That's terrible!'' Lorna said. `` I mean - how can you even stand that?'' 
 
 
 
 `` It's my job.'' 
 
 
 
 `` Can you teach me?'' This time, it was Twan who started laughing. 
 
 
 
 `` You mean to say you want to be my intern?'' 
 
 
 
 
 ``... yes.'' Twan got a hold of himself. He took off his glasses and started wiping them. 
 
 
 
 `` Well, that's a highly unusual proposition. Usually, people who take up this position have a great deal of life experience under their belt. It takes thick skin, y'know.'' 
 
 
 
 `` Yeah. I can see that. I just - figured it would maybe be a good way to... y'know... step outside my... comfort zone...'' Twan seemed to pause in thought. Then he nodded. 
 
 
 
 `` Alright. I think we can talk about this. Come on in.'' I stepped inside, looking at the myriad of cat pictures that hung on the walls of the hallway. Twan clearly had his ways of dealing with negativity. 
 
 
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 Lorna tried to apply her meditation techniques. That was her problem - always trying, instead of just *doing*. 
 
 
 
 She breathed in, and out. In, and out. Now, there were no words. Fuck. *No words* are words, are n't they? But it did n't matter. 
 
 
 
 She picked up the phone. Caller ID was a blessing. She might have been too slow to pick up the phone the first time, but the person on the other side still needed to work out their anger. 
 
 
 
 Beep. *It's just a job. * Beep. *Only a job*. 
 
 
 
 Then, a voice. `` Who's there?'' 
 
 
 
 `` Ehem. Your local Scapegoat.'' 
 
 
 
 Lorna braced herself. Then... 
 
 
 
 `` You fucking fuck. You shitty fucking fuckhead fucker, you. I fucking called and you did n't answer. You lousy fuckin' piece of shit. Fuckin' cocksucker. Rot in the bowels of hell, you stinkin' dirtbag ho. Fuck, I've had it with you people. All the same. Fuckin' shithole village. Fuckin' splinter in my foot. It's all your fuckin' fault, you piece of shit. Just when I need a tetanus shot, the doc's out of town. Fuckin' quack. What kind of medical school would accept you, you shithead fucker? I hope you choke on a cock and die.'' 
 
 
 
 *Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. *
