*Mature Warning*
18+ Content 🔞
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Zoey Bold is shy, insecure and riddled with bad thoughts 24/7. Her girlfriend abused her, hurt her and left her with scars up her spine that she could never forget.
Zoey watched as her now ex girl...
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Viva
I had been in my office for a good 3 hours now, I was actually proud of my little angel for not having an outburst which meant that they were actually doing their job.
It was roughly around lunch time, I had got done some paperwork that had been waiting to be done. Probably wondering what we did here, well we were a very big company and we sold clothes. I know it sounded stupid but we were the biggest brand that sold maternity clothes for women and they actually looked nice. We were all about comfy but stylish, from dresses to jogging pants everything was designed and made to fit pregnant women needs.
We were also big on dad clothes as well, but not as popular. Mathew was basically the spokes person for clothes for dad's while I was the spokes person for maternity clothes as I was pregnant and wore 80% of the clothes made by the brand during my pregnancy.
I sighed, the designers were trying to make rompers for pregnant women. I was completely against the idea, rompers were already a crap design since you basically had to get naked in bathrooms just to go pee and with women barely being able to handle their bladder while pregnant the extra stress of being all out there in a public stall didn't sound appealing.
My work phone began to go off with the extension from the daycare, I sighed baby girl you truly tried didn't you. I answered and made my way down the elevator as fast as my heals could take me, when I finally got near the daycare center I could hear my baby girls screams and cries.
"What the hell?" I growled, as I saw my little girl covered head to toe in paint.
I stopped suddenly, I should've went running to her but I notice this little boy about maybe 5 years old waddle over to her. I felt this fear inside me that she was going to hurt him, but he had a small cloth in his hand and started wiping her face.
"Yucky." He said with a smile, she had stopped crying.
"Yucky." She sniffled, her eyes filled with tears.
"Clean?" He asked, she was covered in paint and there was no way the little boy could clean her.
"Not clean." She shook her head, as he kept truly trying to take the pain off her covering himself in the process.
"Dirty." He whined, and she giggled.
"Dirty!" She squealed and pointed to his chest, I laughed silently.
"How did this happen." I asked the one I left my daughter with, she paled.
"One of the kids was running with pain, and tripped." She responded, I groaned.
