Talk Of The Town ✔️

23

The best thing about bad times is that they bring out everyone's true colours. Friday night broke her. She became a target of bullies and perverts, after all. Love Venom's post locked her in her room.

Sobbing

Regretting

Hating

Life was simpler without the fame and money.

Bad times don't go away soon. It keeps testing your patience and courage. How much can you bear before you shatter into tiny pieces?

Anya, attempting her best, decided to face her parents on Monday morning. She could affirm they had every update of their daughter's 'dirty deeds.' Relatives, acquaintances and their friends weren't making life easier with the constant phone calls, eager to gossip.

They had already left for work by the time she descended the staircase. Her heart sank. Sitting alone at the dining table, she poured cereal and milk into a bowl. The telephone in the living room rang a few minutes later. Before Anya could stand up, the maid rushed to pick it up.

"WHAT; okay, I'll tell her right away."

Anya stiffened in her seat. She sipped some water after popping an aspirin in her mouth.

"You need to go to the office right away."

"Is something wrong?"

"Your mother said you need to hurry up. Don't waste time."

Nodding, Anya returned upstairs to change into a pair of blue jeans and an oversized black jumper. She tied her hair in a ponytail, put on her shoes and hired an Uber, which arrived on time.

Gazing outside, she kept wiping her clammy palms on her jeans. Her nerves betrayed her in droplets of accumulating sweat on her forehead despite a cold December morning. Her gut is warning her. Something happened. Something terrible – and she's about to find out.

Anya's stomach churned with nausea before the car even stopped on the pavement. In bold black paint, the words, 'Anya is a fancy harlot,' covered the front blue glass. As she stepped down, two employees hurried out with a bucket of water, a mop and a detergent bottle.

"Let's hope the paint is water-based," one of them admitted before they noticed her.

"I'm very sorry, Anya," he said in sympathy.

Anya nodded, lowering her head. The ugly reality smacked her across the face when she entered the office. Many slang with her pictures printed on A4 papers covered the ground floor walls. Hooker, escort, tart, maggot, slut, hoe, wanker, arsehole – you name the insult intended for women, and it's there across her picture. One even had a knob drawn next to her face.

Anya froze, grief consuming her whole.

Bits of glass from a smashed window littered the floor. Tables, chairs, and dustbins toppled on the ground and torn papers from files scattered in a corner.

A rushing woman halted, saying her name louder than expected.

"ANYA"

All the attention regrouped on her. Sympathy from some and a suppressed fury from others

"Your parents are waiting on the sixth floor."

Mumbling, thank you, Anya walked past them and entered the elevator. She tightened her lips and closed her eyes. She can't break down before even facing her parents.