Work Text:
A wet, soaking bed. A thousand times awoken and a thousand times fallen asleep on that bed. A drast and ugly, torn bed. It was wet. Really wet.
Wet from tears? Or the filth from the slender girl in slacked clothing? Even she did not know. It was all just a blur to her. Like none of it really had not mattered. Her eyes foggy, and her hands given up in weakened strains, she looked so pathetic on that futon bed.
That was the word. Pathetic.
Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.
It grossed her out how much that word described her, in every second of every day of the week, how much it really hit, when it really was true. That whenever she felt it wasn't, it came crashing in like blown glass, shards stabbing her and piercing deep enough to leave vital wounds. Oh how she wished it wasn't true.
But what could she do?
.
"You're late for work, again."
His voice. Almost booming throughout her eardrums. Was it annoying or just a loud voice from truth?
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry is not going to cut it. I'm gonna have to cut from your pay if this keeps happening, do you understand?" His arms were crossed over his chest, a well guarded guard-dog who was hellbent on getting his way. He was definitely bite.
She nodded, what else was she supposed to do? She couldn't change the fact that whenever she woke up it felt like her bed was sinking her deeper into sleep, into a deep sleep she knew she'd never wake up from like dying on your deathbed. She wanted to, she wanted to change it so bad, but it's too hard. Just, hard.
But work was the same as always. It was never new, no meetings for her to attend, no social gathering where she had to talk to her colleagues who didn't even bother learning about her life behind work. Work sure was great. She'd quit if she could, she'd scream 'I quit!!" In her boss' face if she could. She'd never dare to. Only if she could.
I wanna quit.
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