Us against the world

Chapter one

I woke up and stared at the ceiling, listening to the soft hum of the breeze. It was another day—just another day. A big part of me felt trapped in a job I hadn’t chosen for myself. I knew this day would come, the day I’d finally quit. I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t go on. This was something I had to do. I must

I picked out the perfect pair of shoes and walked over to my closet, picking out my go-to suit—a classic, tailored blazer and matching trousers in deep navy. I shrugged it on, buttoning up with precision. My hair, styled just the way I like it, fell in soft waves down my shoulders, a polished look that felt both professional and me. I reached for my earrings—a pair of subtle, gold studs that caught the light just right without stealing the spotlight. A swipe of lipstick, a soft, warm shade of rose, added a final touch of color. I pick up my wristwatch and put them on, telling myself it was going to be a good day even tho I knew how bad it would definitely end. I smiled, got into my car, and drove, mentally checking off each place I passed, signing out of this life, one landmark at a time.

When I finally arrived, my heart was racing. The company loomed large before me—a vast, impersonal entity that had never felt like a fit. It wasn’t just the company that hurt me; it was the boss himself.

Three days ago, that night, the haunting memory kept resurfacing, and I couldn’t stop it. It gnawed at me, killing me inside. The gunshots, the threats, the whispers—everything screamed torture. The employees watched me with knowing eyes.

"Oh, you fool. You’re late, so very late," the manager groaned.

“Chelyn, are you okay?” One of them asked.

“I’m fine. I’m very fine.” I forced a smile.

"The boss is going to be furious with you.”

I took a breath. “It doesn’t matter,” I replied. "I’ve made my choice.”

“You what?” one of them asked, their face a mixture of disbelief and concern. “Are you quitting?”

“It’s my choice.” I smiled again, but they all knew I didn’t belong here. They knew how I’d fought for this opportunity, and they knew what it had cost me. But now I needed to go home and piece my life back together.

I climbed the stairs and stopped in front of the boss’s office. Taking a deep breath, I knocked. His voice boomed from inside. I held the door handle for a moment, then pushed it open and stepped in.

“Sir, I’m sorry I’m late,” I began.

He smiled coldly, rising from his chair and walking towards me. “What did I tell you about coming late?”

“You said you’d make me quit.” I held my ground. “Well, I’ve decided. I’m resigning, sir. I can’t work for you anymore.” I took out my resignation letter and placed it on his desk, then turned to leave.

As I reached the door, his voice cut through the air like a knife. “And if you breathe a word about me or mention anything about your friend, not even the police will protect you. There’s no evidence. Do I make myself clear?”

I stood frozen for a moment, then gave a small nod. Without another word, I hurried down the stairs and back to my car.

I... I can't believe I quit. But it’s okay. It’s for the best, right? I kept telling myself that, trying to console the sinking feeling inside. I told myself I’d be fine, that it was the right choice. But the weight of the world had already hit me. I felt like I had nothing left to live for. But I had to push through—I had to. I was already in deep trouble. No lover, no one to turn to. Just me against the world.

Part of me just wanted to end it all, but my heart wouldn’t let me give in. I couldn't surrender to the voices of those who wanted to see me defeated. I started driving, my mind clouded with despair. I wasn’t even sure I was fit to drive.

His words kept echoing in my head, haunting me, twisting my thoughts. If I told even a hint of the truth—about how he murdered my friend, my only real friend—I’d be ruined. This was a secret I couldn’t tell anyone, not even the police. What if he blamed it all on me? I had no one to back me up, no friends, no one I could trust. I couldn’t even afford a lawyer.

Lost in thought, I didn’t notice the car in front of me until it was too late. My car crashed into it, the impact jolting me back to reality. My head spun, and darkness closed in around my vision. Trauma and pain pierced through me, echoing in the depths of my heart. All off sudden my eyes surrendered to darkness.

***

When I opened my eyes slowly, I was welcomed with a sharp headache and multiple pain over my body.

"Where am I? Why... why is everything so pale?" I tried to speak, but the words barely formed, coming out in fragments, like pieces of a dream I couldn’t hold onto. All I felt was pain… nothing but pain.

I could see myself being rushed away… by doctors… on a hospital bed. They were taking me somewhere, but where? I tried to speak, to ask, but no sound came from my mouth. My voice… it was gone.

Then, I noticed him—a young man with striking blue eyes, hidden behind a face mask that only his his nose and mouth. I could only see his eyes, beautiful and intense. Who was he? Where is he taking me to?

Suddenly, I realized we were outside. They were wheeling me toward a van. Panic surged through me. "Help… please… take me back to the hospital," I managed to whisper, but no one seemed to hear. The man with the blue eyes didn’t look at me, didn’t acknowledge my pleas. He was focused, steering me into the unknown. Exhausted, I drifted into unconsciousness.

When I awoke, I was lying on a bed, partly healed but weak. My heart rate was low, a dull ache pressing in my chest. "Where am I? Hello? Is anyone here? Is anyone home?" My voice cracked as I called out, desperate for answers.

I forced myself up, unsteady, and stumbled into a dimly lit room. There were three people in suits—one by the door, one behind me, and one standing near another doorway.

"Please, let me out! Who did this? Was it Kendrick?" I shouted, my voice raw. "I quit my job! Why does he still want control over my life?" I knew my former boss was behind this. He wanted to silence me, to bury the truth about what happened to my friend. I refused to be held captive, to stay silent.

One of the suited figures spoke up, their voice cold. "If it's Kendrick you’re thinking of, you’re wrong. But you're in grave danger, and our boss himself is the one who brought you here."

"Your boss? Who is your boss? I don’t know anyone. I’m a private person," I replied, my voice shaking.

"It doesn’t matter who you know. You’re here for a reason, and our only job is to watch you."

"Then what reason, what valid reason, am I here for? If you’re not going to tell me, I’m leaving. You don’t know me, I don’t know your boss, and there’s no reason for me to stay. I need to leave, and my safety is none of your business."

I turned, attempting to push past them toward the exit, but they blocked my way. One of them grabbed my shoulders, forcing me back to the floor. I struggled, realizing with a sinking feeling that I was trapped. But why? Who were these people?

Questions swirled in my mind. If this man wasn’t the boss, then who was? I took a deep breath, trying to keep my cool. I sank onto the sofa, clutching my hat to my chest as I wrestled with the pain and confusion.🌲🌲🌲 Then it hit me—the memory of the accident. I had been hit by a car. But was it an accident? Or had they caused it on purpose?

I looked up, locking eyes with one of them. I walked over, my voice low but fierce. "Did you people do it? Was this all planned? The accident… did you make that happen?"

They were silent, each one looking at me with eyes that gave away nothing. Not a single word. They didn’t want to spill any answers, to reveal even the smallest hint of truth.

When I first woke up in the hospital, I thought my leg was shattered into pieces. My hands—I couldn’t even reach for them. And my voice... I couldn’t speak. It felt like something was pinning me to the bed. But now, I’m partly healed. How is that possible? Did they give me some kind of drug or medication to ease the pain? I thought my condition was far worse than anything I could imagine.

Tho, I could still feel the sting of my injuries—cuts, bruises, joint pain—far worse than anything I’d felt after quitting my job. What could they possibly want from me? I had nothing to give. No family, no wealth, nothing of value. I was just another nobody, as invisible and insignificant as a beggar on the street. Why go through all this trouble to kidnap me? It made no sense.

Then, suddenly, the door opened. My heart skipped a beat as a man stepped in.

It was a magnificent man, his striking green eyes unmistakable. I recognized him from the hospital—he was the one who had driven me into the van. He still wore a mask that covered only his nose and mouth, but his presence was undeniable. His physique was strong, and his dark hair framed his face perfectly.