The Air I Would kill to Breathe

CHAPTER 3 (The X Factor)

Bullsh*t.

That's the perfect description to the poorly made coffee in my table. My Nescafe Dolce gusto is not working so I had to ask the receptionist to make me coffee. There's something about her naivety that I seem to resent. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I can see in her the old self I used to be and I think it somehow resembles the hope that someday I'll be back to normal.

But Ethan was my normal. Without him I just can't go back.

I just drank it so I can warm myself from this monster of a season. Seriously, as years pass by, I hate winter even more. The itchy feeling I get when wearing coats just makes me cringe. I hate heavy clothing and I hate the moisture on my windshield. I hate the fact I was stuck in traffic last weekend because of road accidents caused by slippery roads.

I hate it when the roads get slippery.

I'm currently reviewing the cases I might take since I already gave up on Jessica Miller's case. It wasn't because I am jealous; it's my profession being persecuted. I was in a meeting thirty minutes ago with Atty. Stevens and Atty. Solomon. They consistently nagged at how stupid I was to even involve the name of the firm in this entertainment circus. I was seen in a gossip website coming out Ethan's office and that is another red flag.

I spiked the coffee with some whiskey and emptied the cup. I know in these times that I have to stay focused or else my world will crumble for the second time around. I know how deadly it was and I know if that happens again, I might not even survive. I was almost very close to dying and that's what I keep avoiding. My family will shatter once I die and I can't disappoint them.

I tousled my long mane and still my hair is a little damp. This is another reason why I hate winter. I get colds and severe headaches whenever I try to go out. Cold season isn't really for me.

I scanned through Huffington Post and i saw the article about boycotting Jessica's ballet performance at the Royal Albert hall. She's a very beautiful prima ballerina and that is not enough to stop the people from hating on her. That's how media works. They can make things look the opposite and that's how frightening it can be. She dug her own grave when she rejected my advice. It's as if she got this third sense that I am someone dangerous.

Emails. I hate them too. They all say the same thing: please help me.

It's not that i live without any compassion, but I just do good judgments. I choose to help the one who needs it the most out of all the senders and they are mostly from people who can't afford to formally set a meeting with me that's why they email me instead. It's one of those charity works I do. I am not always the queen biatch; I help too. I help people who can't pay for law services and especially abuse cases. I can't bear to see children and women get harassed or abused. I am a feminist and that won't change.

A knock came from outside and it's Jenna the receptionist who makes disgusting coffee. She's wearing her usual tight skirt that looks like the ones you find at thrift shops and those high heels that might break if she takes another step. It's not that I'm mocking what she looks like; it's the weak facade I hate. This office is full of men with money and with them lurking around her, I can't bear the idea. That look will definitely attract the predators.

I smiled at her and she walked inside my office.

"A tall blonde man is outside the reception area and he wishes to speak with you immediately. He's really scary." And her face turned nervous.

I blew the mint smoke from my favorite cigarette. They're the best with my whiskey-spiked disgusting coffee. I rose my eyebrow and removed my glasses.

"You know what i do during Wednesdays, Jenna. I choose my charity cases. I have things to do and tell the man that I'm not getting any cases from them. Just tell him he's off limits here in my office." She just remained silent.