SHOT THROUGH THE LENS

It felt real. She found herself cuffed, an iron collar prevented her from sitting properly, and cold chains dug into her skin like biting frost. The cold metal coiled around her, unmoving, as if an evident extension of the will that kept her bound there. A massive figure towered above her, with emerald eyes burning like twin witch flames in the dark void; he clearly hadn't rested for days, if at all. He leaned in, breathing hot against her neck as he inhaled her deeply as if trying to claim her soul, the sound almost reverent. She tried to back away from him, but he quickly held her arm in an unrelenting grip, fingers digging into her skin not to hurt but to claim. His voice, rough and possessive, sent a shiver through her spine. "Mine." His whisper was hoarse, barely restrained. “You belong to me! Always have! Always will! “She looked up immediately, expecting to see animosity but was rather staring at a face filled with raw passion. He tightened his grip around her arms. “Don't ever think about running.” “Ddddddddrrrrrriiiiinnnnnnnggggggggg!!!!!!" Phoebe rose up immediately with a violent jolt. Her pulse hammered against her ribs, damp with sweat; the phantom sensation of chains still lingered around her wrist. The room was dark except for the soft glow of her phone screen on the bedside table. Her breath was ragged and uneven. A dream, just a dream, yet her body screamed otherwise. …………………………………………………………………………… Later that morning, as she entered the office, everything felt hazy—as if a part of her was trapped in the dream. “Phoebe, PHOEBE!” She looked up to see Jess's eyes peering at her as if demanding something. I was just at the door some minutes ago, she thought, wondering how and when she walked past everyone's desk. “So?” the voice continued. “So what?” she snapped. “Geez! I just wanted to know how the party went last night; no need to be aggressive.” "That's true," the high school reunion party Phoebe thought as she bit her lips; she'd forgotten about the party. “What? I can't believe you forgot something as important as going to that party." Jess gave Phoebe a disappointed look. "You're just a spoilsport." “Spoilsport? It wasn't even going to be a fun party." Phoebe tried to defend herself, but Jess was already gone. With a sigh, Phoebe faced the article she had been writing on a popular ballet dancer, and as she started writing again, something told her to proofread the work. Scrolling through the write-up to the top, she noticed some changes had been made to the article. "Fletcher!" Walking angrily to Fletcher's desk “Why are there changes to my original work?” Her hands akimbo, impatient for a reply. “What article?” Fletcher continued working without even as much as a glance at her. “Monica's "story"—squeezing her hands in frustration, as if restraining herself from detaching his head. “ You'll have to meet the manager about that.” Phoebe marched out to the manager's office. "Sir, did you order a redo on my work?” “PHEOBE! Just the girl I've been aching to see all morning.” “Sir!” “Sit down, Phoebe; let's talk.” PHOEBE sat behind the huge mahogany desk, confused about what was going on. “Are you aware our contract with MBS ended recently?” “Ye…’s, sir.” She said, unsure as to where the conversation was headed. “Did you also know that we were supposed to be subcontractors for media broadcasting the Llama Awards?” “ How does this relate to Monica's story, sir ?” “I'm saying that we've lost two of the best deals, and we are facing a bit of a crisis right now." “And?" She asked because she definitely didn't like where this was going. “I'm saying we'll have to let go of some of our best hands to stay afloat.” She turned to the left and right with a bewildered look. “PHOEBE," he opened his drawer, picked up a letter, and handed it over to her. “This is just temporary; as soon as the company gets back up, we'll gather back the team.” “Yeah! You'll get back to us," she said sarcastically, snatching the letter from his hands. “Please, Phoebe, let's not leave with hard feelings." “Yeah! Yeah! Like that's going to get me my job back.” PHOEBE left the office and grabbed her stuff from her desk. Not willing to talk to anyone, she stormed out of the office. She didn't know where to go or who to meet—the only one in her mind was her parents, and she didn't like going home. “Hello, Mom." “Hey darling, how is your day going?” "Crappy…" She just let the tears flow; the sobbing came out uncontrollably. “Hey, butter cake, what happened?” “I…I…" Her voice trailed off. “Sh! Sh! Sh! Don't say another word; grab your stuff and come over. I'm at the saloon right now, but I'll leave for the house immediately.” “Thanks, Mom." “Don't thank me, you're my daughter. I'll do anything for you. You know that, right?” “Yes, Mom, I love you so much.” “I love you too, honey. See you at the house.” Once she was off the phone, her mind went back to why she started working here in the first place—it was three years ago. She had just finished college, and her then boyfriend had broken up with her. Her life almost felt useless without her boyfriend; she was passing through depression. She wanted a life with meaning without having to depend on her parents or any man to be worth anything. Working with BoomClass gave her worth; she had started to have a following, and her name was beginning to rise. But just like that, everything she built was torn down with a single letter. She took one look at the building, heaved a sigh, and opened her car door. "This is definitely not going to be the end of me; I'm just getting started.” She decided within herself as she entered and drove off. At her place, Phoebe looked round the room, trying to figure out what to take. She had stuffed so much into her bag it looked as if it was going to tear; she laughed at herself. Her phone went off. “Hello, Anika." “Hello girl, guess what?” Anika sounded so excited over the phone, but Phoebe wasn't interested in social media gossip right now. “What?” “John Rabus is having a show in Greensquare tonight.” “Oouuhhh! I can't wait; I bought tickets for both of us, and that his voice—damn! "Heavenly," Anika continued without waiting for a reply from Phoebe. “I think I'll pass this time around.” “What happened, girl? Are you sick? Are you pregnant? Did something bad happen?” “Anika, I'm just passing through a phase right now, and I need some time to think.” “There's nothing like just needing some time to think; something definitely happened.” Anika’s voice softened. "Talk to me." "I…" The doorbell rang just as she was about to talk. “Phoebe? Phoebe? Talk to me." “There's someone at my door." She opened the door, and her eyes opened in disbelief; her phone fell out of her hands. She couldn't believe who she saw standing in front of her door. Phoebe, are you okay? What's going on?” Anika's voice demanded an explanation from the phone on the ground.