Tainted by Choice

Pros and Cons

"Mama" his voice cracked, tears streaming down his soft, innocent face as he watched his mum take her last breath. I blinked back my tears, clearing my vision focusing back at the screen. Poor child.

There's always something about death that never lets it feel peaceful. Contradicting. How can one's demise ever entirely feel peaceful?

Sometimes the thought that they're out of misery feels reassuring. But as selfish as it sounds, it's not entirely true. Death casts a shadow over your mind, scrapping away at your strength, challenging your will, almost draining your soul. 

No matter how much we want to feel good, to try and share the understanding that they were happy to go, that they suffered too much, forever will there be a small part, a tiny part, that disapproves. That wants to reason that there is more to live for. And no matter how bad it makes you feel, how far you try pushing it away, it's there. Sometimes at the back of your mind, deep in your thoughts, but it's there. And although it's a very miniature part of you, even if it measures to a grain of sand, that feeling is buried deep within, in the darkest, untouched roots of your sanity.  

A hauntingly loud noise, terminates, the rampage of misery circling my mind. It's my alarm. 

My alarm? At 1:30 in the afternoon? 

"Oh shit" my voice pitched up. My fucking interview. 

In an attempt to untangle my legs from the blanket, I pitch over on the ground landing on my shoulder. Bitch! 

My interview is in an hour, it takes around 20 minutes to reach there according to mother fucking google. 

"Good fucking luck Amelia, you never sort your shit out in time" I mutter to myself hastily running of to my room to throw on anything presentable. 

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It was still pretty warm, considering it was near the end of September, and there is rarely any sun this country. Just like the weather, the people were cold as fuck. 

Locking my car door, I straighten out my black skirt. Brush my hand down my black blouse, taking a deep breath. I look into the window of my car my nerves kicking in. I stare for around 5 seconds and pull a face. 

Weird. I know. But it's out of habit. Twisting my face into random expressions, easing the tension. I don't know how it works, but it does help a little. Sighing I straighten my posture, and make my way towards the tall building reading 'Piero, Enterprise'. 

I focused on the rhythm my heels created as they hit of the pavement. There was something about the sound of heels hitting the ground that just felt so...good. Sometimes even powerful. 

Stepping in, a feeling of icy comfort settles upon me as I take in the aesthetic of the interior. Dark. The walls were multiple shades of black, either the paint shades were chosen differently or the lighting was just...interesting. There were people everywhere, majority of the population, in this building were wearing some sort of grey. Was this the uniform? I believe the boss has a very limited colour pallet. 

Noticing the sign that read reception, strode right towards it. Not to blow my own horn or anything but I felt so professional and proud walking so demandingly to the reception desk. My heels lightly echoing behind, with each step I take. 

In reality I was shitting bricks.

"Hi, how may I help"? The brunette questioned. Sea blue eyes staring directly at me. 

"Hi, I have an interview today. I believe it's at 2:30" I was biting my tongue. I have this problem with over explaining. Never ever has it worked to my benefit and I really need this job, so biting my tongue will have to do. 

"Name"? The receptionist requested. 

"Aemilia... with an A" I responded to her, whilst peering over at her name-tag. Jemimah. I would like to think Jemimah is around her late 30s with a nice brown bob cut. But I brush that thought right out my head. A because I would end up saying that to her. And B because I was told I looked 12 the other day at my big age. I'm 23. 

He eyes glued to the screen as she typed away, her one hand then leaning over to her left grabbing a sheet and writing some stuff down. All while her eyes were glued to the screen. She's been working this job for a long time now. Even her name-tag I was dulled down. Probably around 5 years+. 

"Alright then Amelia, walk towards that corridor, turn left, and take the 12th floor. There will be a member of staff waiting for you to escort you". She smiled. 

And my nerves were ticking. Someone will escort me to an interview. Was I having an interview with the queen. Assist her lifting her Pinky when she drinks a cuppa. 

My palms were beginning to feel damp, as she wished me luck and I was on my way. I couldn't pull a face here, this building is way too populated and I'd probably die with embarrassment. 

With each ticking second, I could feel my heart thump. Like many others I dreaded interviews. Who likes being interrogated about a job? I mean, they're the ones who need workers, shouldn't we be asking why we should work so hard, only for them to enjoy the fruits of our labour. What is it that they can provide us, in order for us to work so hard. 

Who am I kidding, the pay is amazing. 

The doors opened and I was greeted by a man who also happened to have been wearing grey. 1 pro and 1 con already regarding this job. The pro being the listed wage, and the con being the grey uniform. Why couldn't it be black. 

"Amelia, right? He questioned. Foreign. Beautiful accent. Another pro. good looking, foreign doorman. 

"Yes, that is me" I smiled.

I followed him in silence. This floor was near enough empty. He led me straight to the door which apparently was where I was being interviewed. The boss's office. 

"In you go. And good luck" he said smiling and turning away.

......I need a piss. 

Amazing timing Aemilia. Just perfect. I couldn't tell if I really needed a wee or of it was because of my nerves. I take back about what I felt when I entered the building. The more I am in here, the more pressured I feel that I am not professional enough. 

I have to do this. Professional or not I'm putting what I have and what I'm willing to do on that table and they can do what they want. No doubting myself. I got this. 

I lift my hand knocking the door, and receive a very deep, "Come in" from the other side. 

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AAAHHHH my first chapter is up! I've been contemplating writing for so long now and I have done it. 

I haven't introduced the male lead yet, only because I wanted to focus on the female lead and bring out her character a bit. Her nervousness, and common habits that many people have. Not a huge reference but I lightly showed how even people who look normal do get nervous. That what we see regarding someone is not how they're actually feeling in that moment so always think before speaking. 

On that note mental health matters and so do you 

P.S. please vote comment and follow

Peace