Furious Fears
Fighting for sanity, she turned to her fear
Ready to run, but her heart wouldn’t adhere
Betrayed and furious she unfurled her rage
And old depressed emotions escaped their cage
Vienna
I sat on the couch, my mind surprisingly empty after the incident this morning.
For the first time in so long, I didn’t have to fight my thoughts.
For the first time in so long, I felt light.
My phone buzzed. My mom was calling like she did every night. “Hey,” I answered.
“Hey, Vi, how was your presentation?”
I waited for a wave of anxiety to rush in, but I felt nothing. “It went well.” Absently playing with the shooting star cufflink on my sweater, I settled into the conversation. “Everyone applauded.”
“That’s wonderful news! What was your boss’s insight?”
There, a flutter in my heartbeat. My calm disintegrated at the mention of him.
“Vi? You there? Everything all right?”
“Yes, Ma, I’m just tired.”
“Of course, you would be. You work too hard, Vienna.”
“I know, but—”
“Vi.” Her tone meant the conversation was done.
“Fine, I’ll rest.”
“Perfect. Here, talk to your dad.”
I nodded and waited to hear his voice. I smiled despite my silence. Talking to him always put me at ease.
“Tired?”
I laughed. He was always to the point. I loved that about him. “Exhausted.”
“Then sleep. And don’t drink that coffee Cassie’s probably making you right now.”
I laughed. Cassie looked at me questioningly as she poured our evening coffee. “She already made it.”
“Ah, you girls, do what you want to do. Just don’t overexert yourself. I don’t want my daughter fainting in the office for being overworked.”
I coughed in surprise at his prediction. How had he guessed that?
“Get some rest, my Vienna. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Okay.”
“Ah. You are exhausted. Otherwise we would’ve been halfway in an argument by now.”
We both laughed. He was right.
“Goodnight, my darling, and take care.”
“Goodnight, Pa. Love you.”
“Love you too, my Shona. See you.”
Laughter filled my ears.
Mom and I were laughing at something Dad had said. He looked at me with mock hurt.
The sun set in the background as we enjoyed yet another evening on the porch, laughing, joking and enjoying each other’s company. Conversations flowed with ease. A deep sense of belonging seeped through my blood, experiencing the wonder that surrounded us. I wished for it to always stay this way.
My family was everything to me.
I sank into my comfy chair, sipping my iced tea, and took in everything.
My parents, laughing at their harmless banter. I hoped in my heart to someday have the same kind of love they shared. I closed my eyes and sighed, dreaming about my future when my mother yelled, “I hate you.”
My eyes flew open, and my heart broke, seeing my mother cry. The pain in my father’s eyes killed me.
No.
My world started to crumble.
The lightness of the day transformed into a murky darkness. I stood, but my feet gave in, and I fell. I tried to scream their names, but no sound came out of my lips. I pushed myself up, but I couldn’t stand. I was pushed to my knees, screaming a silent plea.
My hand waved with frantic urgency, needing them to look at me.
If only they’d look at me, I was sure I could break the curse clouding around them, pulling them apart and forcing me to the ground.
Putting in all my strength, I stood up and started running toward my parents.
They were turning away from each other.
I had to stop them.
I had to make things right.
My feet were as heavy as lead.
Clouds of doom swarmed all around our otherwise beautifully manicured garden.
Dark droplets of despair fell with every step I took toward my parents.
Cracks expanded between us, creating horrid spans of distance.
The harder I ran, the farther they spread.
But I wouldn’t give up.
I kept running, jumping over the crevices in the ground, escaping falls into bottomless ravines.
Mom! Dad! I screamed at the top of my lungs, but no sound came.
I blinked, and they disappeared. I couldn’t see them anywhere; there was no one around me.
I slid to a stop and cried.
I was all alone in the darkness.
I was trapped in a black hole.
My parents were gone.
I screamed in pain and ran into the darkness, seeking light.
I ran until my legs gave out and I fell into the never-ending depths of despair, screaming in vain to be rescued.
Warmth spread through me.
I wasn’t falling anymore. I was flying.
Someone had caught me. Someone had fought the darkness around me and caught me. I closed my eyes and let out a thank you, allowing my savior to pull me up.
Darkness parted like a curtain over a stage. Breath by breath, the light started to illuminate everything as my feet touched the ground. Lush grass caressed my bare feet. Gentle chirps of happy birds filled my ears. Smells of exotic flowers eased my anxious heart. I inhaled and exhaled, mesmerized by the picturesque scenery. I wanted to memorize every detail of this beautiful Eden.
Sizzling warmth passed through my hand.
I looked down at the hand holding mine: my savior.
My heart filled with gratitude as I gazed at the extended hand that still gently held me, that had saved me, that passed currents of fire through my skin.
I needed to thank him.
My eyes slowly traveled up, passing a strong neck, followed by a sharp, defined jaw and the most sensuous lips.
The kind of lips I wanted to kiss.
I blushed at my thought, as ever so slowly I looked past the straight nose and into the most hypnotic eyes I’d ever seen, the only eyes that had that color.
The only eyes I knew so well.
His.
I screamed.
My phone buzzed at nine. I’d slept through the night.
I squinted at the display. It was Mike.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Vienna, how are you feeling?”
“Doing very well. My friend made sure I rested yesterday.”
“That’s good. Very good.” The line went silent.
“Mike, you there?” I prodded, waiting for him to answer.
“Yes. I’m actually calling you regarding the project.”
I almost smiled. I’d nailed the presentation—other than the fainting. He was asking me to come back. “No problem! I’ll be back tomorrow and get it started.”
“Oh. Actually…I’m sorry, Vienna, but Mr. Sharp wants someone else to take over the project. He feels it would be best for you to sit this one out.”
What the...? Shock siphoned through my body as Mr. Perry’s words sank in. He sighed. “I am sorry, Vienna. I wish I could do something, but—”
“It’s okay,” I managed to say, my mind reeling with rage.
“Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Mike. Thanks for letting me know.”
I disconnected the phone call as anger like nothing I’d ever felt before took me over.
Who the hell did Mr. Sharp think he was?
He had no right to push me aside. I’d done nothing wrong. Why was he acting like an asshole?
No, this wasn’t right. It was my project. I’d worked too hard for it. He couldn’t take that away from me. I wouldn’t allow someone else to derail my life, and plans, and efforts.
No.
Not anymore.
A dormant emotion roared awake inside me. A part of me that I thought had died the night of the accident surged through my blood, reminding me of who I used to be.
Fearless.
I grabbed my keys and then locked the apartment and rushed down the stairs, too amped with anger to wait for the elevator.
My hair was a mess, curls falling out of my bun and bouncing all over the place. My attire of torn jeans, flipflops, and an old dingy Beatles t-shirt from my dad’s closet would be utterly unacceptable for work.
I didn’t care.
I ran to work, my focus singular and concentrated.
Images of yesterday ran through my mind. Sharp’s demeanor, his treatment, his indifference fueled my fire as I reached the office building. At first, I’d thought his coldness was nothing but professionalism. But what he did, pushing me out of my own project, was far from professional. It felt personal. If he was willing to remove me from the project, he might be actually willing to fire me. My stomach clenched at the thought. I wanted to be here, and the thought of leaving was surprisingly disappointing after such a short time.
Despite my bubbling rage, I couldn’t help but admire the works of marvel the Sharp Buildings were. Nestled with over five floors of lush green vertical gardens, both the towers were over twenty stories high. Pristine glass exteriors reflected the sunlight, glorifying the magnificent architecture. It was nothing short of a work of art. I walked toward the second tower where I knew Kingston worked, my anger resurfacing as I walked past security, scanning my card, uncaring of the stares I was getting.
Who the hell did he think he was?
He didn’t even know me, and yet he was already judging me, deciding I was incompetent, pushing me out of the project.
No, I wouldn’t allow it.
The door to the elevator pinged on the last floor, and I stepped out, pushing aside the growing doubts in my head, befriending this rare side of myself. For once, I felt strong.
I pushed open the glass doors and walked past the immaculate lobby, awed by the white oak floors and the verdant walls. Timber and concrete dividers created unique partitions between spaces, making the entire office look like the outdoors as the sun shone through the glass walls.
I wasn’t familiar with the layout of this floor. I didn’t even know where his office was.
I walked toward the receptionist sitting behind a massive oak desk, busy on the phone.
Should I ask her?
A man in a burgundy suit walked past me to the reception.
“I’m Mr. Sharp’s ten thirty. Last room on the left, correct?”
The receptionist put the phone down and smiled. “Please wait here? Mr. Sharp is just finishing up his meeting.”
Her request didn’t sit well with him. “What bullshit is this? I come here all the time. Are you new here? Do you know who I am?”
“Sir, please, I was just—”
“I don’t want to hear anything.”
Taking advantage of their argument, I sneaked in, following the path the guy had just mentioned.
It was a long hallway, filled with glass cubicles, adorned with plants that created a veil of privacy. High-resolution images of awe-inspiring buildings were mounted on the wooden walls of the hallway. It was unlike any office I’d worked in. It felt like a world on its own: green, clean, and filled with creative and positive vibes.
Lost in my observations and awe, I quickly reached the end of the hallway.
There it was.
On a small plaque engraved in gold, in a crisp font, was his name.
I turned the knob of the door—it was unlocked.
I stepped in and locked the door behind me, not wanting to be disturbed by the rude man in reception.
My feet halted as I took in the office.
It was breathtaking.
Beautiful.
One in a million.
The office that I stood in emulated everything Kingston.
It was bold and sharp.
The entire room was painted white, with black cabinetry running from the floor to the ceiling, holding rolls of pristinely organized blueprints that popped out of their slots. Sepia tone architectural drafts were mounted around the walls in golden frames, and potted plants hung from the ceiling behind his substantial black desk.
For a second, I forgot my anger and took everything in.
White sofas with monochromatic blue cushions added a pop of color to the otherwise industrial and severe room.
A bricked wall by the vast floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the ocean nestled a breathtaking waterfall with koi swimming in the pond.
Gentle symphonic music breezed through the space, barely making its presence known but adding to the serenity. I looked around, mesmerized, as though transported to another dimension.
I scanned the room, exploring the magnificent office. Inquisitive, I grabbed the doorknob and tried opening it, but the door swung open, almost making me fall.
“What the…” His voice filled the room, and I lost the last of my balance.
“Whoa,” I cried as my hands instinctively spread out to find something to hold onto but stopped abruptly as my fingers gripped his naked skin.
Warm, hard, defined skin with toned, rigid muscles.
My fingers burned from the heat radiating from his body.
My breath stopped as his scent filled my very soul.
I looked up.
Our eyes met.
Total annihilation.
Emotion erupted.
Passion flared.
Lust coursed through me like rampant lava.
Rage.
Pain.
Fear.
Despair.
Our eyes meeting was despair.
Our skins touching was Armageddon.
Dreams no longer held power over the reality I was in.
His aura was too much.
His touch was too catastrophic, much more than his caresses in my dreams.
His smell was my undoing. My dreams couldn’t do it justice.
I ached with ancient need even as my mind roared in anger.
Kiss me.
Push him away.
Take me, my soul cried.
Rip him apart, my ego screamed.
I wanted to drown.
I wanted to swim.
I wanted him gone.
I wanted him to save me.
What was going on with me?
Why did he drag such monumental emotions out of me? I was raging, yet I wanted to obliterate myself in his arms, surrender and let go.
I looked at him with a question.
No words were spoken.
We stood still, trapped by the hypnosis of time.
I dug my nails into him, fulfilling my heart’s need to be closer.
A tiny drop of blood oozed down my ring finger.
He flinched but didn’t blink, didn’t break our eye contact.
His hands on me tightened in restraint, silently daring me to try again.
I gasped at his gesture, rising to the challenge but drowned by his gaze holding me prisoner.
Don’t even dare, it screamed.
I smirked. Don’t challenge me.
Silent anger rose in the ocean of his eyes. Try, and you know what will happen.
It challenged me to venture, I’m not scared.
Amusement. His gaze filled with vile amusement. I will break you.
I will slip through your hands—I’m not breakable.
You are.
So are you, I pushed back with confidence.
Yes, I am, but I will never break in your hands. Melancholy swept through his eyes before his confidence eclipsed his inner emotions, and he pushed me away. “Get out of my office,” were his first words to me as he stood there, with rage in his eyes.
His anger didn’t deter me, it fueled my confidence. I snapped back, “I won’t leave until I have my project back. How dare you throw me out of my own project?”
His temper flared, but he managed to keep his cool. “Leave now, Ms. Roy.”
His control rubbed me the wrong way. I needed a reaction. “Retract your decision.” I poked his chest, but it didn’t affect him.
Without a response, he took a step back and turned, pulling his shirt off and leaving me with a glimpse of his hard, sculpted back as he stepped back into the bathroom he’d just walked out of and turned on the faucet.
Words eluded me.
I stood there like a surprised mime, watching in silent appreciation as he cleaned off the droplets of blood my nails had left on his precisely sculpted pectoral muscles. Ripples of hard muscles moved and readjusted with every movement of his body. Cut after cut shaped his torso, leading a path of taut ab muscles toward his happy trail. Even from this distance, looking at his body in the mirror, I was mesmerized.
The sound of the faucet stopped, his eyes met mine in the mirror before he turned away to wipe off his perfectly chiseled torso.
I turned around and paced the office, berating myself, trying to refocus.
Nonchalantly, he walked out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
Now dressed in a soft, baby blue shirt, he walked back to his chair and sat, casually grabbing the file from the desk and flipping through it.
His actions enraged me even more. How dare he act so insouciant? How could he?
“Go on, Ms. Roy. I have seven minutes until my next appointment.” He didn’t even bother to look up at me, casually studying the contents of the pages. “You can sit if you’d like. It will avoid you falling, should you faint.”
That was the pin drop for my grenade.
I blasted.
I lost all sense of wrong or right and exploded.
Imaginary fangs drew out with my hiss as I closed in on my prey. “Don’t worry, I won’t get you to carry me next time,” I snarled. “It must’ve been a hard task, pretending to care.”
His expression remained stoic, but his eyes shot up to meet mine, and the muscles in his jaw ticked with restraint.
I smirked. I seized the moment and went on. “I see through you and your façade quite clearly, Mr. Sharp. I bet this isn’t the first time you’ve used someone for your gain and, upon finding a single flaw in them, pushed them out of their own projects.” Where was this boldness coming from? I didn’t even know him, and yet I was accusing him of being ruthless. “Tell me how it feels to be so, um, I don’t know, can you help me find a more appropriate word for ‘heartless bastard?’”
He dropped his file and stood up, glaring at me with silent threats.
It wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I couldn’t understand why, but I wanted his reactions. Most of what I felt didn’t even make sense and yet, once I started talking, the words had just flowed out.
I’d said things that weren’t even relevant to what he’d done, like I was avenging something more than being taken off the project.
My pain, my hurt, ran deeper than what had transpired yesterday; the words seemed to have carried the weight of time with them.
They’d aged and rotted and collected the mold of a long-held grudge.
I held his gaze and pushed further. “Tell me what I should call you. Heartless bastard seems too tame.”
“Not another word.” His order vibrated through the room. He was so composed, so stoic, that it bothered me.
My demeanor snapped and donned another form. “How dare you pull me from the project?”
“I don’t need to dare. I just decide what’s right,” he said matter-of-factly.
“What you did wasn’t right,” I screamed.
“Says who?” He moved away from his massive desk, walking toward me like a predator hunting its prey. “I had many reasons to pull you from the project, Ms. Roy.”
I almost stuttered as he ever so slowly bridged the gap between us. I suddenly felt exhausted. “Having a panic attack isn’t reason enough.”
His scent made me weak.
He came closer. “Since when?”
It confused me. “What do you mean?”
“Ms. Roy, the project is strenuous, it requires a lot of work, running around, travelling, late nights, and interacting with a large group. Clearly, you’re not cut out for it. Deal with what you can, sitting in your office.” He turned and started to walk away, but my next comment stopped him in his tracks.
“Fuck you, and your bullshit reasons. Man up and tell the truth.”
He turned and grabbed my shoulders, pulling me closer to his body, fury in his eyes.
I shook at his sudden movement. My resolve cracked. I shivered, realizing what I’d been doing. I blinked, gulping, waiting for him to react.
But he didn’t.
Moments became silent decades without a single word leaving our mouths.
We both just stood still and waited. I waited to gain back my strength. He waited to regain his composure. Breath by breath, I could feel his walls rebuilding, his restraint snapping back in place until he removed his hands from my shoulders.
It bothered me.
“Ms. Roy, my decision is made. We cannot risk your wellbeing.”
“It’s my project,” I argued with less fire this time.
“You’ve always been stubborn, Ms. Roy. Seems that hasn’t changed, despite everything else.”
How did he know what I’d always been??
“Damn, woman, let it go. You’re not strong enough for it. Give me a better reason, and I will retract.”
I folded my hands in defiance. “I am very stubborn for the things I want.”
He shook his head and gave a hint of a smile. “Won’t work with me.”
“My project is perfect for the company, and you know it.”
“Yes, but you aren’t. I can’t have you fainting every time you get nervous presenting in front of a crowd.”
“It’s not the crowd that makes me nervous,” I snapped in exasperation. “It’s you.” I gasped then. What the hell had I just said?
Instinctively, I rushed for the door, needing space. But his words stopped me.
“No more running, Ms. Roy.”
I stopped. “I didn’t mean what I said.”
“Bullshit,” he challenged.
I turned then, hesitantly looking back at him.
His eyes were thoughtful, his arms folded in front of his chest.
The bulge of his arms caught my attention, and I chastised myself for getting so distracted.
“You start the project Monday, Ms. Roy. And make sure you’re dressed appropriately.” Giving me a quick glance, he walked to the door and held it open. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment I’m already five minutes late for.”