Present Day

I opened my eyes, but still felt exhausted.

Had I even managed to get a wink of sleep?

Looking at the clock, I was surprised to note I had indeed slept, and for over twelve hours. That wasn’t like me at all. I didn’t like to waste my days lounging in bed. Five or six hours a night was usually enough for me, and I was ready to take on the world.

It wasn’t the case of late.

I had so much to do and zero energy to do it with.

My body was in revolt, no doubt from the long working hours and weekend partying with friends.

I’d drank far too much last night, but no matter how fragile I felt, I’d do the same again next weekend.

Feeling like this was seriously impacting my everyday life, and booze filled weekends were only making matters worse, so I decided there was only one thing for it. I had to get my work life balance in order, cut down on my drinking, plus factor in time to rest.

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts whirled around my brain like a car on a racetrack. Lately, I’d felt different, nervous, on edge, certain change was on the horizon. I didn’t know what that change would be, but a seismic shift was about to hit, and I knew my life would never be the same again.

I looked at the clock on my bedside cabinet.

Get out of this bed.

Nothing would be achieved by lying here.

I had to get up, but I didn’t even have the energy to swing my legs out from under the warm duvet and do something with what was left of my day.

Was it even worth doing anything today?

I argued with myself.

Perhaps I should just rest and recharge my batteries, ready to take on the world tomorrow.

Yes, that was a good idea. Rest up and start a new regime tomorrow.

Thankfully it was Sunday. I could spend the rest of the day relaxing.

Monday meant the start of my working week and as much as I loved my job, I was dreading it.

If I still felt as fatigued and drained as I did right now, I wasn’t sure what I would do.

Phoning in sick was not an option. I just couldn’t do it–that wasn’t me. No, I would drag myself in, plonk myself at my desk and make sure the cogs still turned, albeit, a little slower than usual.

Heaven forbid any of my colleagues would pick up the slack if I was feeling under the weather.

Technically, I was their superior, but I had no ego and didn’t need to assert my authority to feel good about myself.

We were equals as far as I was concerned–a team. But when the shit hit the fan, as it often did, they looked to me, shoving the blame my way. Some team huh?

Working as a Literary Agent for a prominent publisher, there wasn’t time for laziness, or sickness, so I did what I had to do. I was quite the celebrity in my area of expertise, having accompanied successful authors to TV appearances throughout the years. It was the one aspect of my job I thoroughly disliked, but one I got on with regardless.

Get up, you lazy cow.

It took every ounce of willpower I had, but I swung my legs out, my feet hitting the cold polished wooden floors of my loft apartment. With a huge sigh, I heaved my aching body up, plodding toward the bathroom.

I dawdled past the floor length mirror, catching a glimpse of myself. I wish I hadn’t.

My skin had a wishy-washy, grey tinge to it, and the bags under my eyes were more like suitcases.

“Bloody hell, Ella, you look terrible,” I said, inspecting my face closely. My pores were like craters and I was most unimpressed with the fine lines creeping around my eyes.

I still considered myself attractive but right now, I was looking older than my thirty-two years and feeling decidedly off kilter.

I needed a holiday, and the sooner, the better.

Yes, a holiday sounds like a good idea.

Where would I go?

Who would I go with?

I could ask my mum, but she’d turn the trip into one of her sightseeing missions with compulsory itinerary attached. I wasn’t in the mood to deal with any of her shenanigans or play tourist.

Right then, my stomach cramped violently, eradicating all the excitment of a holiday, and I rushed to the bathroom, vomiting into the toilet bowl.