Fifty Shades of Hate

This is my new story. Please excuse how it is unedited pretty badly. Things move fast in this story and get straight to the point, but please, I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter one: fifty Shades of Hate.

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I woke up to the sound of my alarm clock beeping after I had hit the snooze button twice already. I had to get up and go to work, and before I tell you how much I love my job, let me tell you just how much it sucks.

My job consists of me being the go-to girl who fetches everyone's coffees and gets papers to the mail.

My boss, I'm sure, doesn't even know I exist half the time unless he needs something. I type letters for my other work "friends," but they just use me.

Finally getting up, I put on my work clothes. The signature office business suit. I had to admit I felt like a badass business women like this. I headed to the bathroom to look in the mirror, becoming horrified with myself, and took back my first thought away immediately.

I had tangles all over my brown hair. The rats nest in my hair was going to break my hair brush. The hairbrush rage. My eyes made raccoons look pale. The dark circles under my blue were always there. Some light makeup should do the trick.

Even at twenty-three years old, I still didn't know how to do makeup. It wasn't because I didn't want to either. Somehow, every time I copied a YouTube video, I looked like a damn clown.

I was efficient in other skills. I was a pro at staying up until 3 a.m., finishing a book. Okay, maybe that wasn't good either, but it was good for the soul. I moved out of my parents' house finally at the age of twenty-one, and I am perfectly capable of handling myself. Even if sometimes my choices prove otherwise.

I was drowning just to come up with a dollar. My rent was behind, and if I wasn't careful. I would find my way back to my parents' house. They say they love me, and its very sweet, but they need to understand Im not coming back to stay in that house another minute. I would feel pathetic. My hard-headed pride would eat me alive. I had to scrape by. Even if it meant having sleep for dinner.

I grab my keys and head to the front door, glancing at the clock once. Locking the door behind me, I step outside. Locking the door was a joke. I had nothing worth stealing.

I make my way to the biggest hunk of junk known to date. I snagged it from the car graveyard. This little guy was on death row and about to be smashed. It was no Herbbie. Even Herrbie was useful. I cross my fingers it will start this time.

I feel a little buzzing from my pant pocket. My little dollar store track phone ringing. Some days, I would kill for social media on this thing. I take the small phone out of my pocket, read the caller ID, and then flip the screen to answer it quickly.

"Hello, Mr. Turner." I put on my best doormat, kiss ass voice. My boss was surely calling to make sure I didn't forget his coffee. Which I never did, by the way.

"Abigail, I have a meeting with corporate at five. Make sure you have the new bracelets for the team. Also, before I let you go, could you please grab me a cream with two sugars. Thanks, you're the best. Bye." The line ends.

Well, that was a "good" talk, I got to say hello, and that was about it. You would think someone that bossy wanted a black coffee. Maybe the cream and sugar would help sweeten that ass up. I snicker to myself. At least I got a please and a thanks from him. I had the team bracelets in my car.

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"Thanks for buying a loco coffee. Would you like to donate a few dollars for charity?" The clerk asks me. I don't have time for any distractions she's only wasting my time still talking to me.

"No, thank you." I honestly would, but I needed every last dime for my upcoming rent. It's not like I was going to just donate a penny or two. I hated to be this person, but would it even go to charity? Or did the company already donate and needed to make its money back.

Everyone told me we had a new rent collector. I had yet to meet him. Even in this age, he supposedly went around like the damn dinosaur age and collected money like something from A Christmas Carol. Or for people who paid in cash like me anyway.

Rumor has it that he has no heart or soul. Of course, that was the rumor. He took your money, no one liked that. The kicker here was when a sweet elderly lady was around 50 to 100 dollars in the hole and got thrown out of her apartment. She had nowhere to live. She is in a nursing home now, I'm assuming. I hoped. I doubted whoever this guy was cared about, considering he threw her out the second she was only a little off.

I felt bad, but it also put me in reality check. I have to save up my own money so I can still live where I live today. I needed to live alone, or at least without my parents breathing down my neck at twenty-three.

The sad reality is that I am the only young woman in that apartment zone. The rest are old ladies in their fifties or higher. I complained like I wanted to party every night. I wasn't loud, I barely left my bed. Living around old people wasn't al that hard.

I grab the coffee cup and turn to walk my way out of the shop. On the way to the office, I could smell the coffee wafting to my nose. I wish I had a nice hot cup of coffee right now that I could actually drink. But 7 dollars for a mediocre coffee wasn't ideal.

When I'm on the road, I step on the gas so I can book it to start cleaning the meeting room where the meeting will be held today for Corporate.
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It didn't take but two hours to clean the small room. It was a table and chairs, how much cleaning did it really need. My boss, Turner, said I could leave dismissing me, and no, I didn't get any sort of thank you for helping him. I guess the coffee thank you was a one-time thing.

I said my goodbyes to the other workers around me even though I'm certain they could careless if I'm here or not. See what I mean!? Bitch work. Bitch work all day. I grabbed a coffee and cleaned a room, and then he sent me home. I wondered why I was so broke. I think sarcasticly.

I debate getting a second job and then laugh. I didn't have time. Was damn sure not sacrificing my mental health. I find something to do when I got home. I could always pick my books back up when I go home. They don't cheat on me, and I don't cheat on them.

I drive past a young couple on the sidewalk and sigh to myself. I want to be in a relationship and not just with my bed or my books. Why did I get that pang in my stomach of loneliness. My arms felt empty.

Little did I know that I was all about to change by tomorrow. Just be patient. What would be a story without a little boring setup first. I park my car, trying to be quiet, realizing that most people are in bed by now. Here I was thinking an early start would do me some good.

I get inside and put my car keys on the rack. I make my way to the kitchen and sigh. Nothing. I turn on the faucet and grab a glass.

One.

Two.

Three glasses of water down. About four more and I wouldn't feel the need to eat.

As I'm "eating," I watch the Big Bang theory, and I finish up quickly and then walk to the bedroom sitting where it's nice and cozy in my bed.

I try to get some sleep while thinking of all the luxuries I didn't have. I know this beast needs her beauty rest.

I reopen the covers and walk to the medicine cabinet, taking a big pill and gulping it down with some water. I finally went to bed and fell asleep about an hour after laying their in the pitch dark silence.

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