Mr. CEO is a Psychopath

One

“Jonathan is asking about you.”

The chair rattles on the ground as Clay dragged it towards her, echoing through silence in the humble studio apartment she rented. She is with a water glass in hand and still wearing her favorite cotton pajamas, soft and fluffy from overuse.

It’s a Thursday, and the only day Clay is free off her morning work shifts and school on top of that. Thus, the lazy look.

Any other day, she would have had her morning coffee and her hair tied up in a neat bun, ever ready for the war that is the rest of the day.

“Yeah? How is he?” Clay asks her mom through the dimmed laptop screen. She settles down comfortably in the chair, bringing the glass of water to her mouth. As much as she could, she would always try to call and check on her family and how they were doing. She misses them much

“I might say that boy is truly unrelenting. It’s been a year and he’s got those hopeful puppy eyes still,” there was silence for a second before her mom added, her thoughtful face familiar to Clay, “was it really just the distance?”

Clay smiles sadly, answering honestly, “we’re different people, mom.”

“We wanted different lives,” Clay continued, “He always was a great person and it was fine when I was still there, but I don’t think we could make it work through the distance… He needs someone who is all the way in.”

Clay heart aches. Truthfully.

Jonathan was her best friend and first love. But they had different plans. He was contented with the way things were in the country, but Clay? She is a dreamer, and is never the type of woman to cook and clean for a man.

He knew she soars for heights, and after 4 years of being together, the inevitable had truly come, no matter how he wished she’d change her mind.

That doesn’t mean she had forgotten the love they had. Not at all.

On the contrary, at times when she is working at the cafe off peak hours, or her works aren’t even given the time as she has yet to finish her degree and she doesn’t have any connections, or she is having a hard time juggling over work and school, or when she’s feeling homesick, she thinks about what would have happened if she just stayed.

It’s not that her passion is dwindling, it’s just the reality of adulthood. Passion is not nearly enough to survive the harsh world.

Her mom must’ve noticed the way her lips dip as she changed the topic, “how is New York, love?”

“Fun.” Not fun.

While New York is a granter of dreams indeed, she’s been struggling to fit in with the people. She, being a couple years older than most of her classmates, and being from the countryside, to say the least.

She chose New York, and her dream to showcase her art pieces to the world. It wasn’t easy getting here either. They had a lot to sacrifice.

“Even through the screen, I can see you’re lying Clay.”

Partially, that was true. It was no secret she was struggling, but when she works on her canvas with the delicate strokes of her paintbrush and the variety of colors that sticks messily on her shirt, she feels alive again. Coupled with the way New York looks on her window is straight out of a dream.

“Well, I’m adjusting mom. It’s not always fun doing that.” Clay chuckles lightly, before adding genuinely, “but I love doing my art and I want it to speak as I want it to.”

“I know darling. Your works are too beautiful not to be seen by the world,” Clara smiles fondly at her daughter, clearly proud.

This support system she has is something she wouldn’t trade for anything else, “I love you, mom.”

Before her mom could reply, she hears someone overly familiar cough in the back ground.

“Was that Forty?” Clay asks, worried. Of them siblings, her little brother of age seven was born with fragile lungs. Clay loves him very much for sure. It was part of why she wanted to be successful, to help with the price of his good health.

 “Is he getting sick again?”

She knew the answer by her mother’s silence, and her brows furrowed in disbelief as she asked, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“The doctor said he’s going to be fine, and I didn’t want to worry you. You’ve got a lot on your plate lately.”

Clay frowned, “still, you should have told me mom. I needed to know.” Occasionally, Clay sends help from the money she gains by working shifts. As much as her mother tries not to burden her, she knows they need the help. Needless to say, her little brother is her responsibility too.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Clara added genuinely, “Next time, you’d be the first to know.”

Clara turns her head around from the screen, her attention on the clinking sound of key from the other side of the door behind her.

“Your father is here. I’ll call you later, okay?” her mother said in haste.

“Okay mom. Take care always,” Clay bids before she ended the video call. She knows what her mother is trying to avoid, and that is Clay and her father clashing in a verbal dispute yet again.

Derek Cassidy. He makes prideful an understatement.

He never wanted her to be an artist. That career won’t feed you, he discouraged.

Both of them don’t have a lot in common, but Clay is as fiery as he. Never stopped proving herself, even against all odds.

She wouldn’t stop now either.

///

Clay throws all of her books and personal belongings to her locker in haste. The fury of the afternoon burns her skin, perspiration dripping down from her head to her neck, and the day has just begun torturing her. She’s about to be late for her shift at the company.

All workers at the company were to be there for the day’s important event and announcement, so her shift was pulled two hours early than her supposed work hours. They were told beforehand, of course.

She wouldn’t have been in this situation if not for Mrs. Smith requiring her to stay after class and that her sense of time could use a lot of work. At first, they were talking about her grades, before Mrs. Smith went straight to the point. She handed her a brochure to a contest, an art competition.

It made Clay overly excited and happy, ranting for about enough time to be running late for work.

“f**k, f**k, f**k,” she arrives from the taxi ride, almost trips on the way to the personnel’s trance, and runs straight for the locker rooms where she would change.

She was looking frantic, alright. But she was relieved as none in the building had paid attention to her. They were too busy themselves.

She’s about 5 minutes late, and she knows Janet will be extremely pissed. Janet had made it clear to her that everything and everyone has to be in place.

So Clay almost physically releases all negative energy through a frustrated scream seeing the only available elevator’s occupied. The others were under maintenance.

Her jaw opens but she wills no voice to come. Clay’s not about to make a scene after all.

Instead, she goes through the stairs, and runs like a maniac.

By the time she reaches the tenth floor on tired and heavy feet, creating what must be unnoticeable sounds, if not for the fact that everyone was silent. Now, everyone’s eyes were on her disheveled sweaty appearance.

She smiles awkwardly. And from across the room, she could feel Janet glaring daggers at her. Oh, if eyes could kill, she would have stood no chance.

The cling of the elevator behind her, gained hers and all of the others attention.

Now she knows why everyone was already silent before she came. They were expecting the new CEO.

And now said CEO, is staring down at her. Tall and well– intimidating as f**k.