Chapter Two

She grumbled through her salad realizing that her lack of food throughout the day meant that the salad did very little to fuel her already tired and cranky body. Her anger grew when she caught sight of one of her younger staff members yawning – it was only 9pm! What was wrong with them – did they have no dedication to their work? Did growing their careers mean nothing to them. Mumbling something, that shouldn’t be repeated, under her breath, she stood and screamed at everyone to leave since obviously they didn’t possess the stamina or dedication to continued with their jobs.She watched as they sheepishly walked towards the elevator she feeling her ears grow warm, then hot, then burning. Her teeth clenched and she grabbed for her coffee cup needing a sip of that warm comforting liquid. Finding that it was now cold – she threw it towards the wall, narrowly missing an intern who had returned after forgetting her purse. Yelping like a scared puppy, the intern ran whimpering to the stairwell. The office was still, the echoing ring of an unanswered phone the only sound.Back to work. She sighed looking at her emails - 128 unread messages. The concept of inbox zero seemed like an elusive unicorn. She continued running down her list of emails shaking her head as she went through numerous that were completely pointless. Was there really a reason for everyone in a reply all to reply with ‘thank you’? And don’t get her started on emails that just said, “done”. Unless she asked for someone to let her know that something was complete, she just assumed that when asked to do something that people would do it. Were people really needing praise that badly that they hoped by saying, “done” that they would get a reply? Round and round the emails went, where they stopped....was with the person who felt the need to be last in a long thread. What. A. Waste. Of. Time.She heard the elevator doors open and watched as the nightly cleaning crew emptied into the office. They smiled and waved at her, having become accustomed to her working late hours. She rolled her eyes as she watched them work away - chatting with each other and looking like they were enjoying what they were doing. How could a bunch of women, who were probably making minimum wage, seem to have more dedication to their jobs than her own staff who made 4 or 5 times more? It made her bitter; furious even. Was she over paying them? Or maybe they were just too entitled? They had no clue that their worth was far less than what they believed it to be. Soon enough they would learn that to get ahead you needed to far exceed your expectations to even come close to meeting the expectations of others.The cleaning staff began vacuuming and the noise made her grow tense. She had trouble following her thoughts and her typing became erratic. She banged her head on her desk – how did she get here? How did she get to the point that anger ruled her every waking action. A world where the only thing that mattered was productivity and people were assets instead of human beings. Grabbing her bags, her only thought was to run – far – anywhere – just leave. Making sure that no one could see, she moved towards the elevators, tears beginning to stream down her face – she wanted more than anything to feel destruction, pain, hurt…anything but anger.Reaching the lobby, she walked towards the parking garage, knowing that at this time of night it was far easier to retrieve her own car than wait for the valet. Grabbing her spare keys out of her purse, she made her way to the car and threw her stuff inside. She kicked off her Christian Louboutins and sped off, tires squealing as she exited, continuing until the lights of the city were far behind her.She rotated through feelings numbness and anger, not sure which would emerge at any given time. Turning up the radio in her car, she sang along loudly and out of tune in a desperate attempt to be cathartic. Her voice cracked when the tears came. She needed to stop, now. Around the bend in the highway she saw lights from behind some trees and screeched to a stop pulling into the driveway. She knew that this was not a good idea, and for sure it would not end well, but her want to self destruct was much stronger than her need for self preservation.Entering the bar, she looked around at the hairy, overweight men in leather. Bikers. She walked past their cat calls to the bar and ordered “something strong” and downed it quickly. She then went to work, flirting, smiling, and planning her downfall. The dirtier the better. The drinks kept coming; no ordering or paying when men like that thought that they would be getting some.The room began spinning, but she ignored it. More and more drinks were placed in front of her and she kept drinking. She wanted to numb the pain, yet wanted to feel – feel anything but the intense rage that was burning through her. Before she noticed she was moving she found herself being pushed through the back door. Men laughing, hands everywhere, she wanted to scream but at the same time she wanted this. She wanted someone to hurt her so badly. She struggled slightly against them, but soon found her attempts to be futile. She was pinned down, hit, and toyed with until she passed out.