Bed of Lies (ON HOLD)

XXII

I start to wish for the close of the day by the fourth mountain of files I receive. Not even the deliciousness of my lunch succeeds in making me feel any better. As of now, I'd like to jump into any body of water close by and submerge myself in the peace and tranquillity it'll bring. But really, in all seriousness, I wish someone, anyone, would send me a saviour to save me from this hell.

By my side, Tina mirrors the same level of fatigue as I feel. She has failed in concealing the pallidness her face wears, and her eyes do not help the situation either as they seem to have sunk extra inches into their sockets. Maybe it's just her being extra and relaxing the muscles in her face to mimic exhaustion, but it is almost nearly an accurate description of the tiredness eating me from the inside out. Except I wouldn't have a smile on my face like she does.

"What do you think about this?" She gestures at the rough draft of an advertisement she'd quickly put together.

"I think it looks pretty good. Bright colours, bold lettering, pretty background."

"Exactly." She quips.

Everyone in the marketing department has been given the task of coming up with proposals for the advert that will be adopted for the company's newest furniture set. For now, we—Tina and Abby specifically, as I still have a heap of documents to suffer through—are merely brainstorming ideas, and we are looking to bring our heads together and come up with a proposal by the end of the week.

So far, I'm pretty content with the atmosphere in the office. There's a cordial geniality put forth by most I've become acquainted with. I've had random people in the office shuffle over to say hi to me. They seem like pretty chill people, and I'd be glad if my relationships with them remained this easygoing and free of drama.

In Nigeria, working in my father's company was about short of a nightmare. It was awful enough that I had to represent my progenitor, but it did not stop at that. I was monitored by overly willing hawks—courtesy of my father and his siblings.

It was honestly debilitating. I could not take a single breath without an informant breathing down my neck. My every action was watched and criticised. At a point, it was obvious that I was being policed; I was forced to mind what I said, what I did, and the relations I had with those working with me.

Throughout this dreadful period, Fuje was my anchor, my one true friend. Others were fakers, people who only offered lip service and nothing substantial. They were ready to betray me at any chance they got and only kissed my ass because of the favours they thought they would receive.

I made sure they got nothing. Their presumptions were that I was clueless, new to the world of lies and deceits, and as a result, overly willing and ready to trust backstabbers like themselves. They assumed that I did not know how to discern who was good and who was not, who was sincere and who was not, having supposedly been surrounded by rich associates all my life. Little did they know that they could not be farther from the truth than they were.

My father's wealth did not protect me from the pain I suffered in my childhood. It most certainly did not also succeed in keeping the truth of the world's harsh reality from me. I saw it all, experienced it all, endured it all. I was no novice to life like they thought. It so infuriated me that they counted me ignorant without having a clue of what I'd actually gone through.

But then again, it was to my advantage that they did so. Their low expectations meant I was usually underestimated and thus, surpassed the limits laid down for me. Countlessly, I stomped over their heads, making them out to be feeble-minded fools when I exposed their ploys. Eventually, I became a dreaded terror in the company, particularly to my father.