Lost

Prologue

'Just another crappy day in the boring life of y/n y/l/n' I think to myself as I shut off my alarm clock and drag my aching body from the warm confines of my bed to start the day. After a quick wash and a breakfast consisting of bitter coffee and stale cornflakes, I rush out of my apartment to catch the train into Manhattan. I work as a barista at a small coffee shop just opposite the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

I barely make it on time for my 8 am shift. With the ridiculously bright yellow apron thrown on over my head and tied behind my back, I plaster on a smile and welcome the first customers for the day. "Welcome to Muzeul De Artă, what can I get for you?"

The day drags by, agonizingly slow and with very few customers, save for the regulars. By lunchtime, I cannot help but think that perhaps being mummified alive would be more fun than standing behind the counter, waiting for pompous coffee snobs to decide if they would rather have a grande chai tea latte, 3 pumps skim milk, lite water, no foam, extra hot or a caramel macchiato, venti, skim, extra shot, extra-hot, extra-whip, sugar-free. Just as Kim, the other barista, shows up to start her shift, Gabe sticks his head out of the office and calls "Hey y/n, could you step in here for a moment, please?"

Gabe is the manager, the owner's son, and a world-class creep. He would stand right behind me as I'm making drinks, his hand occasionally touching my ass or lower back; sometimes when it was a particularly slow day, he would stand next to me, telling me all about his previous night's conquest and how he made them scream; he would take any and every opportunity to stare at my bum and breasts; and worst of all was his constant inappropriate comments. It isn't as if I haven't tried to get him to back off and leave me alone; I tried telling him it made me uncomfortable; I even talked to his father, the owner, who promised me he would talk to him. But nothing ever happened. If it weren't for the fact that I need this job, I would have resigned a long time ago.

With a heavy heart and sweaty palms, I enter the small office, taking a seat before the desk. "Y/N," Gabe smirks at me before schooling his features into a mask of pity, "I am sorry to have to do this, I really wish that there was another way, but I'm afraid I have to let you go, effective immediately. My father feels that it is time to move on, so we're closing the business and moving to Chicago. You can collect your three months paycheck at the end of the week, but you don't have to come into work again." I am absolutely numb with shock, unable to process exactly what is happening or hear as Gabe continues to carry on about how sorry he is about firing me.

I am abruptly brought back to my senses when I feel Gabe's lips against mine. I wrench away from him, spluttering indignantly, "What the fuck, Gabe?!" "Oh come on sweetness, I know you've always had a crush on me. Why else would you play hard to get, huh? Just think of this as a reward for all your years of hard work," he smirks as he goes to kiss me again, his hand a bruising grip on my hips. Before he can connect I land a hard slap across his face and jerk my knee up into his groin, causing him to double over in pain. Using his distraction, I wrench open the door and bound from the office, grab my bag from the counter and run from the shop. Behind me, Gabe yells out "YOU STUPID BITCH! YOU'LL REGRET THIS!"

I keep on running, unaware of where to, I just know that I have to get away from Manhattan. Before I know it, I've crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. I keep on running until I can't anymore and my legs give out from under me. Is it just me, or is it taking longer to fall than it should? I open my eyes to see trees hurtling towards me. Great, I've actually managed to find the only damn cliff in New York to fall off of. At least it's peaceful. That is my last thought before darkness overtakes me.