My Psycho Boss. ( COMPLETED )☑️

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: DRUNKEN NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL

 
     All I could think about since that night was about that waitress, I remembered the look on Marcelo's face when I opened my eyes. The side of his lips rose in a smirk, he looked at me with a certain look I couldn't recognize, all I could do was cry louder. His men took the groaning workers away.

        I hated him so much. I didn't hide it, it was clearly noticable the way I glared at him through my tears. The next thing he did surprised me. He went back to his seat and continued eating like absolutely nothing happened and ordered the glass and blood be cleaned.

I wanted to shout at him do much, how could someone be so cruel, he was the devil. He hurt another innocent man just to make me hurt someone .

      I was once that girl, I had landed a job in a fancy restaurant during college. I knew what it was like to be harassed by rich jerk.

They touch you when they like, they expect you to do whatever they ask just because you weren't in their status.

I remembered how much I hated working there, but  scholarship can't cover your feeding and housing.

    Dad had exhausted all our money in his insane quest to get his legs back after the accident, he borrowed loan to pay for his medical visit to the UK, China, India, south Africa and more countries I couldn't remember.

He was so engrossed in getting his legs back and after a whole year we were out of all we had.

    I had to work not only for myself but for Sam and Dad. I couldn't quit or fight back and one day one of the rich jerk when too far and I couldn't stop myself. I gave him a neat black eye, although I was satisfied, I was still fired.

And three days later I was kicked out of my tiny one room apartment. I knew how hard working is, I knew how hard working for rich jerk was.

I thought I had it bad but the thought of that girl crying with blood dripping from her arm I knew I wasn't the only one who have it worse.

       I haven't left my room since that day. I stayed in my room and ate dinner but not breakfast. He ordered me to and I was too scared to refuse in fear that he was going to hurt someone else to get me to do what he wanted.

I couldn't look at him. I hated him so much. I didn't realise how cruel he was but I did now. I realised it didn't matter who gets hurt or how many but as long as he had his way.

He's psychotic and crazy that  is what he is. CRAZY.

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  He watched as she stuffed the food in her mouth. She was trying so hard not to look at him, and was eating so fast to get away from him.

He didn't care, that was what he at least told himself.

     He couldn't forget the way she looked that night. Her face drenched in tears, her body shaking as she son's, her straight smooth hair fell covered her face like a curtain as she cried. Her hand still holding tight to the now bloody ceramic.

    He could certainly see the hate in her eyes, he could smell the fear from her but it wasn't as strong as her hate and for some reason it made him uncomfortable.

     She stood up and rushed out of the dinning room immediately after she ate her breakfast making sure not to look at him.
  
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     " You don't have to feel to different"
She said.

  He looked down at her hand that covered his lovingly. Her eyes although struggling to stay open looked at him with... Compassion. A look so foreign yet felt so warm.