The sudden movement made me dizzy. I found myself slammed against a wall through the efforts of my balance and gravity, Davis not doing much to help, only seeming to make it worse. I accidentally pulled him with.
His hand came up, and he braced himself against the wall as my entire body slammed into it, oxygen leaving my lungs as I gasped, my hands coming up and holding my head as pain shook it.
“Ugh,” I managed, groaning.
My hands were pulled from my head, and the pain instantly halved, making me grimace as I looked up. My eyebrows were scrunched together with pain, and my head rested against the wall as my heart hammered.
“You need to take better care of yourself,” Davis demanded.
“You just—“ I tried arguing, glaring up, before my head spiked at my volume. I cut myself off, “Uhh,” I managed.
My hands couldn’t hold my head, though, both still being held tightly in his grasp. I looked up, feeling dizzy and sick, head aching and exhaustion weighing me down.
Hair darker than oil and softer than kittens messily fell to just above his eyes, looking like it’d been nothing but abused all day. He looked tired but his light gray gaze was still fierce and beautiful, and the exhaustion that lined his shoulders only made him seem more attractive, to me. The man’s lips looked soft, and I spent a long moment thinking about blaming my head injury and doing something stupid before the pain in my head returned my logic.
My gaze returned to his.
“It is not just this incident,” Davis said quietly, looming above me with an air of purpose, “With how often you either injure yourself or are injured, I would say you should not be left alone.”
A mirthful noise escaped me, “Yeah?” Exhaustion weighed me down, and I closed my eyes, “Who cares, dude? You think I would be doing shit like that if I had people who cared about me? I’m a nobody from the Midwest who came to here to escape, same as every other nobody not from a city, except I didn’t come here with hope. Feel free to be concerned over your employee’s wellbeing, but just treat me like a ghost, will you? Because that’s all I am. Having you act like I’m important will just end up hurting us both in the end.”
As my plea came to an end, my eyes opened, and I stared at Davis. My boss, the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company. Someone who should really learn his place.
It isn’t his place to be concerned over a mid-looking bastard who delivers paperwork.
Davis looked almost pained at my words, his eyes closing, too. When he spoke, his voice was almost too quiet to hear, “I don’t like that.”
“Tough,” I said with a heavy sigh.
I never said that. I didn’t like saying it. It didn’t mean it wasn’t true, though. How difficult that I was a stranger he’d single-handedly pulled from my shitty position in life. That he had forced me into a better one that I only agreed with so I could keep the one person who would actually talk to me, though I was certain Shawn didn’t think of me as anything close to a work friend, let alone a genuine friend.
Where did that leave me, exactly? A bum at the mercy of a billionaire? What a lucky life to live. It would mean those who were normal wouldn’t like me, and it would mean other bums would avoid me.
As I’d seen when I first got this godforsaken job.
Maybe I should just quit. Go back to the streets where I belong and stop pretending people cared. Maybe that was a good idea, because if I got good enough at pretending, someone might actually end up caring, and I would end up even more miserable as guilt swarmed me every time a new line appeared on my arms. Every time a noose came to mind. Every time I loaded a bullet into a gun I’d never had the balls to shoot.
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But no, that was just fantasy.
I wasn’t something to care about.
So when I met Davis’ eyes once more, I spoke flatly, “Is this the part we kiss, or are you going to let go of me so I can go back to my job?”
He let me go like I was on fire, and I stared at the bruises forming as I turned and left without another word. In any other situation, I would love this…
My lips twisted up at the bitter sentence. In the Midwest, it had been anywhere but here, and in the East, now it’s in any other situation, I would love this. Something that was a bitter lie told to comfort myself at night.
I was the issue, here. Not the situation. Not the place.
It was me.
Sighing, I hoped that the next day I worked would be better. I didn’t even care that there was more paperwork, I just clocked out, knowing I wouldn’t get fired for leaving early, today.
Getting home was a hassle, and, taking more pills than recommended, I laid down and felt nothing for the next two days, passed out. |
The next week I’d been feeling awfully harassed, Davis stopping me practically every time I walked into the office. The conversations we had were long and drawn out, and I found myself remaining in his office longer and longer.
“Please,” I begged the other intern, this one unpaid, my hands clasped, “I’ll still organize the papers, just you take them. I’ll even do your job!”
The fat Mexican only a few years older than me looked flushed, his beady brown eyes and greasy short black hair both trembling as he stared at me.
“All I do is, is—“
“Run errands! Yes, same! I’ll happily take the papers and memos to accounting on 38. You just take those to the CEO. Please, John.”
After a long moment, John nodded, “Okay, okay. I’ll do it.”
Relief filled me, and I grinned up at him, “Thank you so much. I owe you one. You’re the best.”
John nodded again and listened carefully as I spoke and explained his job. He tried clarifying the 45-exact, but when I described it he seemed to understand. Finally, I relaxed, taking his papers to accounting.
There was a metal basket there with blue corners I was supposed to set the paperwork, and I did so with so much relish some of the accountants gave me odd looks.
Maybe it was because of the hat I wore to hide the still relatively ugly stitches in my skull, which I would have to get removed in a few weeks. Maybe it was because I looked like I was floating on a cloud of happiness.
That cloud of happiness broke when John refused to do the next hour. Gloom filled me as no matter how much I begged or how much money I offered, no other intern would take the papers after hearing John’s claims that the CEO only wanted me to deliver them.
I stared at the pages, desolate. Should I just quit? Yeah, I should just quit. I texted Shawn as I stood up, gloomy as I went to the kitchen to pack my two sandwiches.
I proceeded to send the same message to my HR manager, which I’d gotten the number of when the continued persistence Davis had made me more miserable by mentioning my scars nigh-constantly.
I get it, dude. I’m a miserable person who no one cares about, and scars are ugly to look at. Continuously telling me not to do it and making threats on my job was just lame.
Sighing roughly, I looked at the message I got.
I stopped responding to and looking at the messages after that, going to the gym to grab my duffel bag.
Lifting it onto my shoulder, Shawn replied to me. I stared at the long officious text that I was certain Shawn didn’t send.
I bit my tongue, staring at the message. Then I scoffed, shaking my head.
The homeless had no money to pay their debts. At best I would become someone who couldn’t show her ID to the police, but what police officer asked for an ID from a homeless person, anyway? No, no, wait, I would just kill myself.
Perfect solution, got rid of all the issues.
To my surprise, as I was walking through the parking garage to get to my beloved motorcycle that I would miss dearly, Shawn called me. I stared at the phone for a long while.