Allegedly Yours

Torture

Chapter 9

As Nyrah stepped into the sleek lobby of Hammer Corporations, she was bathed in soft, ambient light. The modern furnishings exuded an air of sophistication. The receptionist greeted her warmly, directing her to the elevator that would whisk her up to her new office. As the elevator doors opened on her floor, she took a deep breath, ready to embrace the new atmosphere.

Feeling a bit disoriented, Nyrah glanced around the office, trying to orient herself. The sudden ringing of the telephone startled her, and she picked it up instinctively.

"Hello," she said.

"Come to my office on the ninth floor," a strict voice replied, souring her mood. It was Aston. As she hung up the phone, a wave of irritation washed over her. She had barely finished her greeting when Aston's curt command interrupted her, leaving no room for pleasantries or explanations. The suddenness of the call and his brusque tone left her feeling frustrated and apprehensive.

Breathless from climbing the stairs due to the elevators being under maintenance, she rushed into his office. The sterile, polished environment marked Aston's domain.

"Oh, you came really fast," he greeted her with a surprised remark about her speedy arrival. She panted heavily, still catching her breath, while he seemed unperturbed.

"Go and transfer these files to the first-floor office, room 112," he ordered, his voice firm and unwavering. She gulped nervously at his command. Did she really have to go to the ground floor again? She had just come from the second floor and had no desire to argue or question him, especially not today. Resigned to her task, she bent down to pick up all seven files at once, hoping to make the job quick and painless.

Just as she was about to lift them, he interjected, "Take the files there one by one." His additional instruction made her freeze, shock spreading across her face. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she processed his words. One by one? And without an elevator?

"Lifts are not working, Aston—" she started to say.

"It's sir to you, Nyrah, and about the lifts, that's not my problem," he said, showing no concern.

"I've never seen a company that doesn't have a working elevator, Aston," she complained.

"Lifts must be under maintenance, Nyrah. This is common in every company," he responded.

"But elevators are usually under maintenance on non-working days, sir," she retorted angrily.

"Stop it, Nyrah. What happens in other places doesn't happen here. Just do what you're told," he concluded.

"Why can't I take all the files at once?" she questioned, making him look at her intensely with a smirk.

"As you can see, Nyrah, these files contain very important data. I don't want you to lose any important pieces of information," he said with a smirk. Seeing his expression, she finally understood that he was doing it on purpose.

"I'm leaving the job," she declared. He stared at her like she had said something funny.

"Really, Nyrah? Then go ahead and fill this out," he challenged, taking out a resignation form from the drawer. She took it and a pen from the holder, just as she was about to put the pen's tip to the paper, he announced, "If you resign from here, you will get a job nowhere. You will be blacklisted, Nyrah," he told her in a dark tone, making her look at him in shock. She realized he could do that effortlessly. The threat of being blacklisted, with the implication of being rendered unemployable, hung heavy in the air, leaving her feeling vulnerable and trapped. In that moment, she understood the power he held over her, and the daunting prospect of navigating such a precarious situation loomed large in her mind, making her do what he wanted.

Her heart sank at the prospect. The thought of trudging up and down the stairs seven times was exhausting. She glanced at the stairwell, dreading the steep climb and the time it would consume. She looked back at him, hoping for a sign of leniency, but his expression remained unchanged, firm and expectant.

She sighed inwardly, knowing she had no choice but to comply. Gathering her resolve, she picked up the first file and started towards the stairs, mentally preparing herself for the grueling task ahead.

Her legs ached after transferring just the first file. Only God knew what would happen with the other six left. But she had to do what she was told; losing this job meant ending up on the streets. She never understood the true value of money until she earned it herself, experiencing firsthand how every penny is hard-won through blood, sweat, and tears. At her parents' house, she used to spend money freely, as if it flowed like water. Not anymore.

Taking on her own responsibilities had taught her many lessons. She realized now, more than ever, how different her life was. The sense of independence was bittersweet, marked by both pride and exhaustion. Each trip up and down the stairs served as a reminder of the harsh realities of adulthood and the cost of self-reliance.

With a deep breath, she picked up the second file, her determination fueling her weary legs. She would complete this task, no matter how daunting it seemed, because she had to. There was no going back now.

Closing the door behind her, she panted hard, her lungs burning from the exertion. She had finally accomplished the first task given for the day. But she knew she had to face that moron again.

"Nice, Ms. Nyrah, you did it in less time," he commented, his voice dripping with a condescending tone that made her cringe inwardly. Just then, the alarm on his phone rang, signaling that it was time for lunch. She felt a wave of relief wash over her; at least she had a brief respite from the grueling tasks and his unbearable attitude.

She released a sigh of relief, only for it to catch in her throat as he commanded once again, not even letting her take a proper breath. "Now go to the third floor," he said, placing some papers on the table. "And start editing these designs." She took the papers, thinking she could edit the designs after having lunch. However, his next words shattered that hope. "And yeah, I want them done by the time I come back," he said, making her look at him in horror. Now he was making her skip lunch too.

In a vacant room, Nyrah sat hunched over the designs, meticulously editing and adjusting dimensions to fit the required structure. The silence was palpable, with everyone else away for lunch, leaving her alone with her task. Her headache had intensified, pounding relentlessly, and her body ached so much that she feared she might crumble if she dared to stand.

Hours had passed since she started editing, the afternoon slipping into evening. She cursed under her breath at the person who had made so many mistakes in the original designs, each error adding to her already monumental workload. Her fingers cramped from gripping the pen, her eyes strained from staring at the intricate details.

In the darkness, Nyrah fumbled for her phone, desperately trying to switch on its flashlight, only to realize that the room didn't have any curtains to open. "What kind of haunted place is this?" she yelled out in frustration, her voice echoing in the empty room. Her frustration had reached a whole new level as she grappled with the eerie darkness and the sense of isolation it brought.

Nyrah's heart sank as she felt something wet trickling down her body. In the midst of her fear and confusion, she had forgotten—it was the date of her period. Dread washed over her as she realized what was happening. With a surge of frustration, Nyrah threw the pen she had been holding away, the action a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil. She berated herself for coming unprepared for such a predicament, her mind racing with a mix of embarrassment and annoyance. She couldn't tell anyone here about the situation as she had no friends here.

As the door to the office creaked open, Nyrah's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. She turned towards the sound, her senses on high alert, her mind racing with apprehension. Who could it be this time?

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