Faye
What’s his ordeal? Why does this insensitive bastard care whether I am fine or not? Can’t he just mind his own business? I thought, metnally growling to myself, growing weary of the tender gazes he sent in my direction which I tend to defy but couldn’t. The more I try to push this thought away, the more it has begun to intoxicate my mind.
“Goddammit, Faye. It’s all a pretense, snap out of this.” I hissed, rubbing my temples to ease the agony surging in my mind and to amplify the intensity of it, he called me in his office.
“You called, Sir?” I asked in my usual polite tone. “Ah, Yes, Faye. I wanted to ask you something.” He said, motioning me to come closer. "Yes, Sir, What is it?" I asked, coming closer. "I want your help." He said sternly, causing me to arch a brow, confounded.
