His ruin

Taunting memory and question

Heaving out a frustrated breath,

“You’re just so insufferable.”

I started pacing around, wishing I had my phone with me.

“You’re lucky,” I heard him say from his seat. “I have people waiting for me at the moment.”

He squashed the cigar in the ashtray.

“If not, you would remain here till I say otherwise.”

Standing up, he straightened his suit, slicked his hair back, and I looked away, trying to look anywhere but at him, distracting myself from how attractive and muscled-up he had now become.

“Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes.

Climbing down from the small step in his office, he gave me a warning look.

Don’t push it.

Without another word being said, we made our way out of the office, turning and passing through the long hallways until we finally got to the VVIP hallway.

“I will need more drinks. Make sure you’re quick about it,” he coldly said, and without sparing me a glance, he walked down the hallway.

Taking a deep breath, I never knew I needed it. I braced myself for facing anything that came my way henceforth, because I knew the Damien I knew wouldn’t make things any easier for me.

I hurried down the stairs and made my way to the counter.

“Hey,” I called out to the server who had his back to me.

“It’s Mike,” he stated.

“I need more drinks for the VVIP sector ASAP,” I said, not actually having the time to register his name.

“Coming right away,” he responded, and got right into it.

In no time, the drinks were ready.

I started fidgeting, already overthinking everything.

“You okay? You’re yet to take the tray of drinks.”

“I’m good.” I forced a tight smile, grabbed the tray, and maneuvered my way around the first floor before heading for the stairs.

Sending a light knock on the door, I opened it without a second thought.

Slowly walking in, so I wouldn’t spill the drinks, I looked up and saw most people staring at me, while some had already forgotten what had happened.

But the people staring didn’t only stare.

They were whispering to each other and laughing.

“Over here!” someone shouted from the rounded table in the middle.

With shaky hands, I made my way to them. As I approached the table, the tray shook, the drinks threatening to spill.

Setting the drinks on the table finally, I straightened up.

And immediately, our eyes connected.

A bored look was plastered on his face.

Then he averted his eyes to his business partners.

Shaking myself out of it, I proceeded to get to work. I started serving each one of their drinks.

Until I got to him.

Grabbing his glass of whiskey, I internally prayed.

I stopped by his side and dropped his drink, my heart beating wildly. He looked at me as if he could feel my heart accelerating.

I straightened up and released the breath I had been holding as he picked up the drink.

As I made to turn, my hands hit the candlestick sitting at the edge of the table, sending it crashing sideways. The flames caught the tablecloth, and within seconds, fire spread across the table.

“Jesus!” I shouted, covering my mouth in shock as I stepped further back.

“f**k!” someone shouted from the table.

“Who the f**k is this b***h?”

I looked at Damien, who had his full attention on the fire spreading across the table without moving or saying anything as the people around him started quenching the fire.

The glass shattered in his hand.

Everyone froze.

No one spoke. Even the people who had been scrambling to put out the fire suddenly seemed afraid to move.

Blood ran down his palm, but Damien didn't spare it a glance. His attention remained solely on me.

The calm music playing in the background once again went off.

And then came his voice, thundering through the room.

“Doesn’t this seem familiar to you, maid?” he asked, finally averting his eyes from the mess and looking at me.

He gave me a confused look, tears already flowing down my face.

“Have a deep think,” he said, tilting his head and relaxing further into his seat.

And then it hit me.

…

I stop in front of the table where I placed the bottle. With shaky hands, I try to put the opener to use, but the shape is so strange.

The hell?

I have never used an opener like that.

What is this thing?

Uh, hurry, Emilia.

My struggle to find the right way is soon cut short as his voice blares through the air again.

“For f**k’s sake, just hand it over before you hurt yourself.”

Mister Spencer hisses at me and tears the opener out of my hands.

I watch him quietly, trying not to break down.

He takes the bottle and opens it with ease.

“Useless,” I hear him mutter while disappointedly shaking his head, which only adds more fuel to the fire.

I feel my throat tightening, and my eyes sting again. This time, I stood no chance at stopping the tears from rushing down my face.

Discreetly wiping my cheeks, I swallow down the sniffle as my shaky hands reach for the bottle to pour wine into the wine glasses.

My stupid, shaky hands touch the bottle, but instead of getting a hold of it, I accidentally knock it over.

Although my reflexes are pretty quick, I still spill a small amount of wine on the table.

And a loud outburst comes from him.

“Okay, that’s it!”

I flinch at his angry bark as he jumps from his chair, knocking it over, and stomps off.

I let out a loud whimper, bowing my head as the tears continued rushing down my face.

“Get lost.”

This comes from Mr. Spencer.

Without wasting a second, I hurriedly ran to the kitchen, and there, I cried my eyes out.

…..

I cry out loud, immediately using my hands to muffle my tears as I take a step backwards.

Why would he make me remember such memories that I have tried to bury for years?

“I’m glad you now remember,” he says as he slowly drags his chair backward, the legs screeching against the floor.

The sound alone sends a shiver through me.

He rises and begins taking slow, menacing steps toward me.

“In as much as you have grown into a woman now, you have not grown out of your clumsiness, which I have always known you for.”

He says this while staring at his bloodied hands, which had just crushed the glass.

Peeking up from his hands, I meet his eyes.

“Let me ask you something, Emilia.”

He straightens up.

“Are you sure you can handle being a waitress?”

Not answering him, I looked past him and at our surroundings.

Everyone is staring.

I have humiliated myself.

Not taking the embarrassment again, I ran, bumping into his shoulders, but I never looked back.

Neither am I stopped this time around.

I run out of that suffocating place, and as I run down the stairs, my hands are abruptly held back.

“Emilia, where are you running off to? I have been looking all over for you.”

Jane?

I turn and run straight into her arms.

And there, I break down.

“What happened?” she asks.

Where do I even start from?

“Please, I want to go home. Take me home.”

That is the only thing I can muffle out.

“It’s okay. Shhhh. I will do just that. You’re fine now.”

Breaking off the hug, she holds my hands and gently leads me down the stairs.

And this was how my first day as a waitress went by.