Those words struck a chord deep within Eden; roused something she didn't know was asleep. They played on her mind in a loop until she had chewed them, swallowed, spit them back up, and dissected them; until she knew every answer they conjured.
***
Three days after her talk with Amenkha and those words still lingered at the forefront of her thoughts, showing no signs of disappearing, as Eden approached the front entrance of her work building.
"You gotta ask yourself what's worth living for."
Eden tromps up the steps and enters the foyer and then the call center. The air is filled with the muted chatter of people talking on the phone as she walks down the aisle to her cubicle. The clock on the wall reads three past ten in the morning - only a handful of minutes late for work today.
"What is worth living for?" she murmurs under her breath. She slowly sits, dropping her purse and keys on the desk while donning her headset. But instead of making her first call of the morning, she continues to roll over the question in her mind.
It sounds innocent enough, but it's answer seems daunting; monstrous. Either she's over-thinking or not thinking hard enough.
I suppose all the typical things come to mind, she thinks. Life, adventure, happiness, love.
A sinking feeling promptly hits Eden in the chest as another thought takes reign.
But I don't have any of those.
Her forehead wrinkles in frustration. Surely the truth can't be this elusive.
"Edwards!" someone barks from behind her. The unexpected voice, sharp in nature, startles Eden and she jumps in her chair. Her headset tumbles off her head and clatters onto her desk. The rhythmic hum of the morning around her halts as all attention is drawn to her and her boss, Mr. Forsythe. She snatches up her headset and timidly turns in her chair to face him.
"G-Good morning, Mr. Forsythe," she chatters nervously.
Bushy eyebrows furrow in disappointment. "Miss Edwards," he says sternly. "Your sales have been dropping significantly this week, and yet here I find you, sitting idly at your desk."
"I just got here, sir," she answers weakly.
"Get. To. Work," he orders through gritted teeth. He turns and begins walking away. "If you are still the lowest sales caller by the end of the day, you're terminated!"
A tense silence follows, broken only by his heavy footsteps. All conversation in the entire office has ceased. Eden can hear her pulse thudding in her ears as her blood pressure picks up.
One thing Eden is absolutely terrified of is public embarrassment, and she hates being yelled at. No matter how insignificant the issue, as soon as a voice is raised to her she shrinks down into the dirt. That rhetoric never changed, even with Mr. Forsythe's explosive temper: no matter how much he screamed and yelled and berated her, she'd cringe and keep quiet before faithfully returning to her work because she was too meek to demand respect.
To keep from crying of embarrassment, Eden squeezes her eyes shut and briefly touches her fingers to the outside of her pocket. Inside is her beloved list, scribed with the thirteen things she would do if she were brave.
Item number one? Quit a job.
"No," she blurts, surprised by the voice that leaves her lips. She's never heard that particular tone, ever; it just surfaced in her, a bubble rising from some unknown depth. Yet the voice sounds sure and confident, words Eden would never associate with herself.
Just as work had begun to resume, everything comes to a renewed standstill. Eden opens her eyes to find Mr. Forsythe glowering back at her with a background of shocked faces draped behind him.
"Excuse you?" he sneers.
Eden stands up on shaky legs, hands clutched around her headset until her knuckles blossom white. "I said no," she repeats, following the courageous voice that seems to have taken over. "You don't have to worry about me being the lowest seller anymore because . . . I quit."
Forsythe's eyes look as though they're about to bug out of his head. Eden calmly places her headset back on her desk, gathers her things and her nerves, and brushes past watching coworkers (now ex-coworkers) and a quietly seething ex-boss. Her rabbit heart pitter-patters with fear as she reaches the final threshold - the front door.
She whirls on her heels to face the room. Every eye is trained on her, something that makes her incredibly bashful, but still she remains steel-faced.
Surprising even herself, she throws her arms above her head, flips the bird to the entire room, and calmly exits backwards. As the door swings shut behind her and she turns to descend the steps to the parking lot, she hears a faint roar of cheering and clapping erupt.
On the drive home, her windows are down and her music is on full-blast, something she's never done. Her fingers itch and her heart is still spluttering in her chest, but not with fear anymore; with excitement. Is this what bravery is?
She craves more.
Item One - Quit a Job
~~
thank you for reading so far! i am very excited for this work - i wrote the first like six chapters in one night because i felt so inspired.
comment, vote, lemme know what you're feeling. what would be the first thing you'd do if you weren't scared?
xx
YOU ARE READING
the brave ones // h.s.
Fanfiction"the brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear."
