Please save me

Anthena

With my bag slung over my shoulders, I stormed out of his office with barely restrained fury. I was done. I'm quitting. He'd won, and I didn't care anymore. No, he isn't sane. That man is definitely psychotic. He was heartless, disrespectful, and selfish beyond words. I'd never met anyone so devoid of decency, and I was certain I'd never tolerate him another day.

"His company isn't the only one in Oxford," I muttered as I stepped into the elevator, pressing the button with a little more force than necessary. "There are other companies who would value me. They'd die to have me on their team."

When the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, a delicious, homely aroma wafted through the air. The company cafeteria. It smelt better than anything I'd encountered all day—comforting, savoury. The scent of freshly baked cakes, roasted chicken, and warm spices teased my senses. I realised then that I'd skipped lunch while running errands for my boss from hell.

"I can be jobless, but I'm not leaving this place on an empty stomach," I muttered, shaking off the thought of quitting for just a moment as my hunger gnawed on me.

Pushing the cafeteria door open, I was met with the polished interior of a space that looked more like a five-star restaurant than a workplace. Glittering fixtures, cozy booths, and the soft hum of quiet conversations made it unexpectedly inviting. I ordered a platter of chicken and chips with a canned drink, and soon enough the meal was served. I sank into the food enthusiastically, savouring every bite.

"I think this company is more talented in cooking than fashion and cosmetics," I thought, a satisfied grin spreading across my face as I savoured the last bite.

For the first time that day, I felt myself relax.

As I finished, dabbing at my mouth with a napkin, a new thought struck me. Maybe I wasn't really "angry" at him—maybe I was just "hungry." It must have been the hunger that made me thought of quitting. The food had cleared my mind, and I reminded myself that I don't give up easily. Anthena Wellington didn't quit; Anthena Wellington found ways to win.

Squaring my shoulders, I marched back into the elevator, confidence surging through me with every step I took. I got back into the elevator. I wasn't going to give my psychotic boss the satisfaction of breaking me, not today. I'd let him think he'd won. Let him enjoy it—for now. Maybe one day I'd quit, but when I did, I'd make sure he understood the value of what he'd lost.

I entered the office again, and the shift in his expression was truly satisfying. The hint of disbelief in his eyes, followed by disappointment almost made me laugh. Without a word, he gathered his things, shut his laptop, and stormed out, his irritation nearly palpable. I allowed myself a small, victorious smile before getting to work on the mess he'd left behind.

Two hours later, I was done sorting the file. I noticed a text from Mandy. "I'm out with my team for dinner. Don't wait up."

A pang of sadness washed down on me. While I'd been up here arranging files and enduring every despicable demand from my psychotic boss, she was out there enjoying and exploring Oxford. I realized how much I missed having a life, friends—even if I wasn't exactly one for crowds.

Everyone had team members here, but the fifteenth floor was just for me and him. He didn't seem to have interest in having people around him. Maybe, I thought bitterly, he preferred it that way.

Finally, I picked up my bag and exited the building. I needed a break from that empty apartment, and since it was late anyway, I decided to stop by a bar nearby. I'd only been in Oxford for a day, and I should explore it. Tonight, I was going to enjoy myself a little, even if it was alone.

I drove into a bar named Uptown. The interior of the clubhouse is furnished with neon lights that cast vibrant colours into the room. The air is filled with a mixture of perfumes, colognes, and a thick hint of smoke.

In a corner, a DJ is seen mixing tracks with people packed on the dancefloor swaying and jumping to the energetic tempo and heavy bass, rocking their bodies against each other.

Navigating through the energetic crowd, I found a quieter corner and ordered an alcoholic drink. I started with one shot, then another, letting the familiar warmth of the alcohol ease the tension I'd carried all day. By the time I'd finished, I glanced at my watch, surprised at how late it had gotten. Time to head home, I decided, standing up and suddenly feeling the world tilt. My legs wobbled beneath me, my body strangely heavy and uncomposed. Something was wrong.

I tried to shake it off, gripping the edge of the table. I wasn't light weight; I knew my limits. Panic surged within me as my vision blurred slightly, and a sinking feeling crept over me. Had I been drugged?

Mustering all the strength I had left, I staggered out of the bar, breathing hard. Driving wasn't even an option. I turned down a dimly lit street, hoping to find a taxi, when I noticed two men trailing me. Their faces were shadowed, their clothes disheveled. Every time I picked up my pace, they matched it, edging closer, their intentions clear.

"Hey, pretty thing. You look like you need help getting home," one of them sneered, reaching out to grab my arms.

Adrenaline kicked in. I twisted, gripping his arm and throwing him to the ground with all the force I could muster. He hit the pavement, groaning in pain, while the other lunged at me. I punched him hard across the face, kicking his legs out from under him as he stumbled back. But my strength was fading fast; the effects of whatever I'd ingested were taking over, and my vision swam.

Just as they overpowered me, dragging me down the dark alley, I whispered a desperate prayer for someone to find me.

"Please save me."

I'd make a mistake coming here; that was clear in my mind. I should've gone home instead. My body grew heavier, my mind slipping into a fog, and I was on the verge of surrendering to the darkness when a tall figure appeared, standing at the mouth of the alley.

Through hazy eyes, I saw a familiar silhouette—my boss, impossibly rigid, eyes locked onto the scene before him. Relief washed over me, but I barely had the time to smile before the darkness claimed me.