It's amazing how fast life can go down the crapper.

Just one thing, one misstep, and the rug is pulled out from under your feet, and you're taking a tumble that's so rough you can't regain your footing.

And you find yourself completely screwed.

I am an expert at finding myself screwed. Not that it's something to brag about- that's just been my life since I can remember.

Monday, I was an employed twenty-something, climbing my way up the career ladder, working the nine-to-five, fighting the daily grind. I had an iron-clad sales portfolio, a fast-growing client base, and my eye on an upcoming role as a lead in head management.

I'd done all the groundwork: schmoozed with the VP of sales and marketing, bought the weekly team meeting coffee for the past two months, and voluntarily took on all the extra assignments I could for over a year, working until the moon hung high in the night sky. I'd gone through countless sticks of concealer, covering up the dark circles under my eyes from the lack of sleep I'd suffered just to build my repertoire in the company, everything leading to this very moment.

All that work, all that glory, gone in an instant.

Tyler Baxter was the kind of coworker who oozed big smiles and even bigger teeth- all the while sliding the knife through your ribs and giving the blade a good twist, waiting to bleed you dry.

Rumors about him spread across the department like wildfire. All new hires were warned with quick glances and hushed whispers: he stole clients from fellow team members, robbed coworkers of recognition, and was personally responsible for at least a third of the department terminations. He also took over the client accounts of the terminated in the process (a definite win-win for him). Tyler had been called into HR so many times it was impossible to keep count, but he was more slippery than a bowl of garlic butter noodles at Tony's Pasta Palace. They could never pin him for anything, and he'd walk out the HR manager's office smiling bigger than the proverbial cat who got the cream.

Avoiding him like a bad case of mouth herpes had been my go-to plan of action and it had worked like a charm since Tyler had been hired- about a year or so after me.

But it all came crashing down in the span of a single morning.

He'd begun circling me at work when the marketing department had announced the previous manager's resignation. He had turned my way and grinned hard, baring his teeth in signature Tyler-Baxter-Style. Cold shivers shot down my spine and the hair raised on the back of my neck.

I had officially become his new target.

Self-preservation was the name of the game, and I was constantly on edge, peering down hallways before making a run to the bathroom and sprinting to the elevators after work.

I'd done an excellent job of defense and I could almost smell the sweet aroma of victory. The promotion was as good as mine. Everybody said so; I'd worked so hard, sacrificed my personal time, my very sanity- and my work ethic had been noted by the uppers. Everything I had done was finally leading to the glorious taste of victory.

And then it happened.

I let down my guard. Tyler caught me during my coffee break.

"Hey, Vinnie," he said, leaning against the coffee machine.

I mentally cussed him out before slapping the biggest fake smile on my face and turning around to blind him with my artificial friendliness. I tried to leave, but he blocked my path, and anger began sprouting inside my gut.

That had become a problem of late. Things that never set me off before suddenly irked me, and things that would make me mad escalated to a rage I had never felt before in my life. I'd never had an anger management problem, but it came out in full force, now, and I had begun to wonder if I needed help. My best friend had offered her therapist's card, but I was hesitant. Therapists would delve into everything from my childhood to my mother to my love life, and the thought of a stranger prying into those sacred parts of my left me uneasy.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Besides, I thought anger might be a good thing to have when it came to Tyler Baxter. Just looking at his face was enough to make me that rage simmer in my gut. He was a twisted individual, and my gut was taking clear notice of it.

"Do you have a minute, Vinnie?" he asked.

"Don't call me that." I tried to keep from bristling. "It's 'Lavinia' and I'm busy." I kept my tone even and firm, and I turned to go. I refused to be sucked into his games and everything inside me was screaming to get the heck out of there.

"But everyone else calls you 'Vinnie'," he went on, his voice dripping with superficial charm.

"You're not everyone else," I replied icily.

He ignored me. "I heard you applied for the management position," he continued, jogging to keep up with my brisk pace.

"That's not any of your business."

"I'm sure you know I applied, too."

"That's none of my business."

"Don't you want to know your competition?"

"I didn't realize I had competition."

"You didn't think I would apply?" He faked surprise and chuckled, shaking his head with a tsk.

The condescension in his tone- I gritted my teeth and clenched my jaw before plastering a smile to my lips.

"No," I stopped mid-stride and faced him, beaming as bright and cheery as I could, smiling so hard that I thought my teeth would crack. "You misunderstand." I took a step forward, "It's my fault for not being clearer. Let me explain." My eyes flared and I lowered my voice as I said, "It wasn't that I didn't want to know my competition- it's because I don't have any competition."

A small part of me reveled in the confrontation, begging him to say something else, to keep it going. The rest of me was screaming, wondering what was wrong with me. Run, run, run, my survival instincts were begging me- while this strange, small fraction of my subconscious grinned, yearning for more.

That weird part of me that wanted to verbally lash out at Tyler-the-Toad Baxter was exactly what I was talking about- this part of me rearing it's head, wanting to fight, fueling a rage deep within me that I never knew existed before. This feeling was primal, and not like me at all. I was more likely to flee rather than fight. I wasn't a large woman- not at all. In 3-inch heels I could maybe pass for 5' 7". I had been a tiny child and my growth spurts hadn't done me justice- so I tried to steer clear of anything and anyone that could be labeled hostile. I always carried two cans of pepper spray and a taser. I refused to become a murder victim because I was a tiny chicken.

Which is why I shocked myself as I found myself watching Tyler's reaction with utmost satisfaction. He was not pleased- quite the opposite. His eyes hardened and his lips twitched just a fraction of a second before he mirrored my smile with one of his own plastic grins. He reminded me of a carnival clown, all smiles and jokes until they hit you with a cream pie straight in the face.

He leaned toward me and said, "You think the promotion's yours? The only way you could possibly beat me is if you slept with the director. But I hear," he continued, his breath hot and acrid, so close I could feel it against my cheek. "I hear the director's having some marital problems. I hear his wife has been sleeping with the pool boy." He raised his brows and watched in sheer delight as complete disgust filled my face. He'd hit a nerve and he was reveling in it.

"I know," he continued, "How cliché. I thought the same. But there you go- that's your 'in,' if you want to beat me to the promotion. The director works late, nowadays. I'm sure you could manage to make your way to his office after hours. No one would ever know."

My back was stiff, and my hands were clenched tight at my side. My smile had disappeared, and I tried to push against him, but he refused to budge. I was cornered between his looming body and a nearby desk.

I looked around, searching for help and realized we were completely alone. Everyone was on break, or they had scattered as soon as they saw Tyler rear his ugly head. I couldn't blame them, but it was more than a little inconvenient for my current predicament.

Dammit, I thought.

I was on my own, caught in his trap. The walls were closing in on me. That primal anger, that rage was starting to boil. I could feel it getting stronger. The old Lavinia would have run by now, scattered right quick before it reached the breaking point, but Tyler Baxter refused to get the hell out of my way and I could feel the rage and need to protect myself rising in my chest.

I had to get out of there before something happened.

"You could see this as me throwing you a bone. That's how you got all your clients, anyway. You bat those big eyes of yours and charm the pants right off them. That's what you do, isn't it? Sleep with everyone to get what you want? It's not surprising; all women do it. It's what you're best at. And the director can be next on your list. I won't say anything, just don't forget you owe me when you get the job."

I felt all control break.

My eyes burned and Tyler's own widened in a mixture of shock and terror. He took a step back.

"Hold on- what the hell is wrong with your eyes-"

The last thing I remember was seeing flashes of red and a sharp pain shooting through my fist as I smashed it hard into Tyler's terrified face.