The Email [Yandere Boss x Reader]

Chapter 1 - Meetings

The shrill sound of my alarm clock grated against my ears, signaling the beginning of another day in the claustrophobic confines of my mundane life.

I reluctantly dragged myself out of bed, grappling with the prospect of facing the office once again. The monotonous routine seemed to stretch endlessly before me.

Why did I pick this job?

God why me?

Entering the office felt like stepping into a sterile cage. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting harsh shadows on the gray walls. The hum of machinery and distant chatter formed a disconcerting symphony, a constant reminder of the soul-sucking reality I found myself trapped in.

My cubicle felt like a cell, surrounded by walls that seemed to close in with each passing day. However, the real nightmare lurked in the corner office – the lair of Mr. Alexander Hayes.

Handsome, yes, but his attractiveness was overshadowed by an aura of terror that permeated the entire floor.

As I approached his office, the air grew heavy with a palpable tension. Mr. Hayes sat behind his desk, an ominous figure bathed in the cold glow of a computer screen. His piercing gaze locked onto me, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Y/N," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Falling behind, as always. I expected more from someone who claims to be part of my team."

I swallowed hard, steeling myself against the onslaught of his verbal abuse. His handsome face twisted into a cruel smile that sent a chill through my veins. Each critique felt like a lash, tearing away at whatever remained of my self-esteem.

Just finish your contract y/n

It's only a few more months

Returning to my cubicle, I couldn't escape the feeling that I was dancing with a devil in an impeccably tailored suit. Mr. Hayes, with his terrifying charm, had turned the office into a battleground where survival meant enduring his relentless torment.

The office atmosphere grew even more oppressive as the day wore on, and the impending meeting with shareholders only added to the tension. Mr. Hayes summoned our team, a motley crew of weary employees, to join him in the conference room. As we filed in, I exchanged glances with my colleagues, all of us sharing a silent understanding of the impending storm.

Seated around the polished table, the shareholders eyed us with a mix of skepticism and indifference. Mr. Hayes, looking regal in his seat at the head of the table, initiated the discussion with an air of authority that left no room for dissent.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice cutting through the air like a whip, "our numbers are not where they should be. It's time for drastic measures to ensure the success of this company."

He proceeded to unveil his plan – a proposal to cut our lunch break in half, with the expectation that we would utilize the additional time to work harder. The room buzzed with murmurs of discontent, but no one dared to voice their objections aloud.

"I can't believe this"

"The paycheck isn't even worth it"

I heard as they whispered amongst themselves.

This man has the ego the size of his head if he really thinks he won't lose workers over this.

How dumb is he?

His eyes scanned over the crowd of us as I unconsciously glared at him. We locked eyes as I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.

As the tension thickened, I felt a nudge from my friend and coworker, Sarah. Her eyes shot a warning look in my direction, cautioning me to keep my thoughts to myself. It was clear that speaking out against Mr. Hayes' plan would be met with consequences.

I bit my tongue, suppressing the words that threatened to escape.

Leaving the stifling atmosphere of the meeting, I trudged back to my cubicle, the weight of Mr. Hayes' demands pressing down on me like an oppressive force. As I sank into my chair, my frustration reached a boiling point. I couldn't shake off the feeling that we were all being pushed to the brink, and something had to give.

A few more months, only just a few and I'll be gone.

I turned to my colleague, Jake, who sat at the desk next to mine. His expression mirrored the mix of resentment and helplessness that I felt. Without exchanging a word, we shared a knowing glance that spoke volumes about the collective discontent brewing in the office.

"Can you believe this?" I sighed, unable to contain my frustration any longer. "Cutting our lunch break in half? What's next, working through the night?"

Jake shook his head in agreement, his eyes reflecting a mixture of sympathy and determination. "It's outrageous, Y/N. But what can we do? Mr. Hayes has all the cards."

Just as I was about to launch into another round of venting, Jake leaned in conspiratorially. "You know what I do when I can't take it anymore? I type out all my anger into an email and then delete it. It's like a virtual punching bag."

The idea struck me as both ingenious and therapeutic. I raised an eyebrow at Jake, intrigued by the suggestion. "You do that? Does it actually help?"

He nodded, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Trust me, it's like a pressure valve. Write down everything you wish you could say, let it all out, and then hit that delete button. It's surprisingly liberating."

Inspired, I decided to give it a try. As the clatter of keyboards surrounded me, I opened a new email and began to pour my frustrations onto the screen. Every grievance, every injustice, flowed from my fingertips like a torrent. It felt like a rebellion in the digital realm, a small act of defiance against the oppressive regime of Mr. Hayes.

Once the virtual tirade was complete, I stared at the words on the screen, a mixture of anger and satisfaction coursing through me. Taking a deep breath, I hovered over the delete button.

Eh, maybe later

And I saved it to my drafts