The Unspoken Truth

Chapter Seven [Edited]

CHAPTER SEVEN

Annie's POV

       2am. My fingers fly across the keyboard, expertly typing letters into words. I am rewriting. Something editors are never supposed to do. The rush tears through my skin, eating away at all the discipline I have ever been forced to learn. This is total freedom.

        I know how much trouble I could get in for doing this but that fact alone makes me go faster. Erasing words, hitting the backspace button that doesn't look so friendly anymore. Destroying another person's hard work sends tingles up my spine. Five empty Starbucks coffee cups lay next to the computer. Caffeine buzzes in my veins, making my heart beat so hard I can almost hear it. I have never downed so much caffeine in one sitting before. It puts me on edge in the best way possible. Strands of my hair slip into my vision until I give in and tie it all in a big knot. I am too buzzed to care about the troubles the quick decision will cause me the next morning.

        3am. The desire for coffee scalds my mind. I can focus on nothing besides my beating thoughts. My hands push up from my chair and I run down to the kitchen at full speed, putting the coffee maker on and doing jumping jacks to keep the blood flowing. I have to keep it heading to my mind, where I need it most. I've never stayed up so late to finish something before. Editing has never been hard work, it is doing what I do best: correcting other people's mistakes in the harshest, meanest way possible. But writing, writing is a challenge like no other. Sweat generating, tear inducing hard work. But like all honest work, it pays off, and if you're one of the lucky ones, you might even have some fun doing it.

        4am. Again caffeinated, I force myself into my chair and continue writing. Ripping out clauses and metaphors like I would never live to see another day. Visions of an angry Kreysten make my fingers faster.

        5am. The knot sitting atop my head I call my hair comes undone and wrestle with it until it behaves. Wishing, all the while, I didn't have so much of my thick, tousled hair.

        6am. My masterpiece of ultimate revenge is finished. Sitting there on the screen in all its glory. The truth. Something I have always wanted to write. I get up from my chair and hobble to a mirror before stumbling backward and letting out a shriek that sounds half human. Not only do I look terrible, I look like the Grinch got shoved in an ice shaver and then thrown down a sewage drain. Which, I will admit, is better than I was expecting.

        I glance at my watch, confirming I have less than an hour until I have to be at work. When I jump into the shower, I barely feel the hot water on my skin before I turn off the dial, dress and run to work because I have no time to wait for trains. I burst in the front door of the office, finding a finely dressed and horrid mannered Kreysten there to greet me. "How wonderful it is you showed up to work on time today, Miss Morter." Squealing like a thirteen year old girl, I turn and run to the back room.

        I tear the door open, "Guys--" I scan the room and find it deserted. I peek at my watch which is now water-logged from the shower. 6:55. I collapse into the nearest chair, not entirely sure what I was thinking would happen considering editors rarely come in before 7:30. The world fades out as my lack of sleep catches up with me.

                                                    *         *         *

        "Annie?" a familiar voice calls as everything floods back into vision.        

        "Scarlet! You'll never believe it! I finished it!"

        "You did? Annie, you must've been up all night," she says, worry lines appearing on her forehead.

        "No! I mean, well, yes but I finished it. Isn't that exciting?"

        "Yes! Go give it to him!" I didn't hear her words before I was out the door, down the hallway and right in front of Kreysten with his condescending eyes and evil smile. He looks up at me and smiles, taunting me from where I stand.

        "Can I help you, Miss Morter?" his voice snapping me back to reality.

        "Yes, sir. Here's the article I edited for you," I say.

        "Oh thank you." I run my hands along the desk as I walk away. "Hold it right there, Miss Morter," his voice stops me in my tracks.

        "Yes, sir?" I squeak.

        "This is not the article I wanted, it doesn't have the voice of the writer I assigned. You know who's voice it reads like?" he asked, standing from his thrown of all things writing.

        "Who's, sir?" I said, my voice quieted by anticipation for the worst.

        "Yours," came a roar from my boss. He slams the pages down on the wooden desk. "You're fired, Miss Morter."

        "Fired?" I croaked.

        "Go get your things, Miss Morter. The York Gazette is no longer in need of your services."

        "But sir, I just wanted to--" I started.

        "Goodbye, Miss Morter," he interrupted. I stare at him in shock, I can't believe it. He is really doing this, he is throwing me to the streets. So I do the thing any self respecting girl with not the least of her pride left would do. I run to the bathroom and weep. I sink to my knees under the sink and bawl by eyes out. Because of everything I had gained in this big town where almost nobody got the chance to live their dream. I got that chance, the once in a rare lifetime opportunity. And I blew it. When I gather myself enough to face my coworkers, I trudge back to the editing room and pick up my things. I give out hugs and tears are shed at my leaving. I said goodbye to the only friends I have ever known and pass Kreysten as I walk out.

        Most, in times like these, say things they've always wanted to say to their bosses. Like that they are terrible, or that they are dead to them. Not me. I turn the other cheek, walk right by him and onto the cold streets of New York. He hasn't crushed my dreams, I still have the truth to speak.