New story!! Please be kind and considerate when reading and giving feedback. I am still very new at this and would love criticism but I'm also a human being with feelings. There are strong trigger warnings such as sexual abuse, drugs, drinking, and other toxic situations. This is a very mature story so if you read it, don't say I didn't forewarn you! Alright amores, enjoy!!
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I didn't expect my life to go the way it had.
Being an orphan for most of my life, I always assumed I'd always just be on my own. When he came along, it wasn't in a romantic way like I'd read in the books.
It was dark, bloody and terrifying. He dragged me into his life of death and drugs, surrounded by flashing lights and alcoholics.
I wanted to leave.
I wanted to go back to my quiet dorm room and lay in a warm bath with bubbles and a glass of wine.
But he dragged me to that club, put me in a dress that attracted the attention of dangerous men and showed me off as if I were his.
To be clear, I belonged to nobody.
I belong to nobody.
When one is alone as long as I was, you learn that the only person who will ever be there for you is yourself.
The tears, pain, and blood he cause me would never make me change my image of him in the end though.
Holding his hand now as he rubs my head, laying my hair down flat, makes everything seem alright.
His large hands warm against my head, making all the pain melt away as his eyes melt mine.
Maybe I will be okay?
Or maybe these tears are meant to be the last thing my body allows me to do.
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My breath echoes in my ears as my heels echo through the hall, walking me towards the large, elegant doors.
"Don't be nervous. Don't be nervous. You're perfect for this job, Eve," I whisper to myself.
I knock on the door once I arrive, a quick "enter" following. I open the door then fold my hands in front of me.
The woman turns from the window, a smile on her face.
"Well aren't you a pretty little thing," she slys. I chuckle, a nervous laugh more or less.
She was a middle aged woman, washed out brown hair and a skinny body. It wasn't an ideal situation being here but if it's on the way to the top, it's something I have to do.
"Come sit down, Miss Taylor." I take a seat on the opposite side of her, folding my legs and pulling down the hem of my skirt.
"I'll cut to the chase, Miss Taylor," the woman strains, taking a seat behind the desk. "I want you to start writing for me." I smile, my eyes wide.
"You're beautiful, over qualified, and your short story was so intriguing I sent it into the Young Authors National Short Story competition," she admits, laying a file in front of me.
I widen my eyes wider, dropping my smile.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand. You sent my story into the Y.A.N.S competition? What for?" She chuckles, leaning back on her chair.
"Because I wanted to brag that a young girl with your talent is working for my organization. I can take you far, Miss Taylor, I just need you to accept the offer."
I bite my inner lip, looking behind her at the large buildings of New York. The view was extravagant and I know I'd be working on this level.
It's everything I want, really.
"I read your file and your story is extraordinary. Growing up an orphan, in and out of foster homes, then having to work three jobs just to pay for college and housing? It takes courage not to give up. And especially with your beauty and vulnerability, you were able to survive the streets of New York," she chuckles as if it were a funny thing to say. A nervous laugh escapes my lips.
Fake it, Evelyn.
"I hate to speak money, Miss Ioana, but-"
"1,500 a week," she states. I clench my jaw at the large amount.
That is 8 times what I thought I'd be making.
She laughs, standing up and taking the file.
"Little wonder struck, Miss Taylor?" I stand up quickly, brushing off my blazer. She reaches out her hand, holding the file close to her chest.
"I look forward to publishing your work." I let out a sigh of relief, taking her hand and shaking it.
"Thank you, Mrs. Ioana. It was a pleasure to meet you."
"It was a pleasure, Evelyn. And I look forward to watching you win the Y.A.N.S competition." I pull my hand away, a shy smile on my face.
She leads me to the door then I head into the elevator. Once the doors close, I lay against the back of the hand railing.
"Holy shit," I breathe out. "Oh my god!" I cheer, sliding down the wall.
I pull out my phone quickly and dial the only number I ever have on speed dial. I click and within two rings, her voice enters my ears.
"Am I going to be the roommate of a celebrity?" she squeals. I scoff.
"Hell no am I ever going to be a celebrity."
"Babe, don't doubt yourself. You're hot as fuck and I would be surprised if you weren't modeling in Paris within the next two years." I crack up, standing up quickly once I hear the elevator bell ding.
The door opens and a younger boy steps in.
"Hello," I smile. He stops and looks me up and down, a slow smile forming on his lips.
"You either fuck him or tell him you're on the phone with your sexy ass roomate," Leilani pipes up.
I crack up, covering my mouth. The man scrunches his eyes, stepping all the way into the elevator.
"Lani," I hiss. The boy clears his throat, pulling out his phone.
"Is he at least hot?"
"Lani, shut up. I only called you to tell you I got the job.... As her assistant publisher, not a model, before you go all psycho on me," I explain, whispering.
The boy smirks, a chuckle escaping his lips.
"Once you get here, let's go out," Lani cheers.
"We're 20, Lani. We can't go out yet, and besides, I have to add a few more chap-"
"Nope, we're going clubbing. Invite elevator boy, after you screw him of course," she suggests. I roll my eyes, hanging up.
So supportive, Lani.
"I didn't mean to intrude on your conversation," the boy speaks up. I turn to him, setting my phone to the side with a small smile on my face.
"You didn't intrude. This is a public elevator after all," I chuckle.
"Actually it's for employees only so if you're not an employee I'll have to call security," he adds, straight faced. I drop my smile, stuttering to get any words out.
"B- but I- I, well I- uh-"
"I'm messing with you. I overheard you saying you're the new assistant publisher," he chuckles, turning his body to me.
He's cute.
He reaches out his hand for me to take. I take it, the warmth and smell of pumpkin suddenly becoming very noticeable.
"Elliot Michealson, editor in chief," he shakes my hand slowly, at an attractive pace.
"Evelyn Taylor. I was just hired on," I explain, crossing my arms across my chest.
It was almost embarrassing how flat chested I was. Not something I want to acknowledge but there's no real appropriate time to make you aware of it so there you are.
"Ahh, Miss Taylor. The rumors are true then." I widen my eyes, a bitchy expression on my face.
"Rumors? I've been here ten minutes and there are already rumors?" He clears his throat, stuttering before speaking again.
"Of your beauty. I heard around the floor how beautiful the doe haired assistant was going to be." I place a hand on my forehead, feeling stupid.
"I don't know what's wrong with me. Today has just been an insane day," I sigh. He nods, placing his hands in his pockets.
"Well I'm heading out tonight if you want to go get a drink to celebrate and get your mind off whatever it is you're going through," he shrugs.
I look at my phone, noticing a few texts from the girls.
"Maybe another time," I suggest. He nods, running a hand through his hair.
Awkward.
"Of course," he backs up as the elevator dings.
"See you around, Miss Taylor." I smile and nod, watching him walk out.
A man hands me my keys as I step out into the crisp afternoon air.
"Thank you," I take them from him then slide into my car.
It was difficult to drive around the city but public transportation on a day like this one was not even an option.
Besides, how I'm dressed, I wouldn't make it a hundred yards without getting harassed or cat called.
It's stupid but it's the harsh reality I live in; a single girl living in a dorm, no family, a few girlfriends and just over minimum wage?
Some are surprised I'm not begging on the street at this point. But with my new job, it gave me some hope.
Should I have taken up something to do with my body? Probably.
But I have more respect for myself than that.
Having a starving body covered in nothing while I strut around in heels acting like this dumb brunette who hasn't worked her entire life to get where she is was never a thought that crossed my mind.
I write for a reason, and that reason is to entertain those who didn't think I'd make it.
One day, they'll be the ones at my feet, cheering as I get what I've always worked my hardest for.