Love Or Death?

One

Have you ever walked right into death because of a man?

The day my life changed forever was just like another fresh, New York City, Monday morning.

I might have gotten a bit out of hand last night with the drinks. I always do that regardless, drinking from the bottle directly like an alcoholic while running my hands through my viciously fast-paced growing brown hair, always regretting it in the morning as I wake always hungover with the horrid stench of liquor in my hair.

At this rate, I took better care of my hair than of my very liver.

I love to think of myself as the…well…girly type. Considering as I wake up each morning just to sit in the hallway in my baby pink robe, sipping the creamiest and most milky large mug of tea that would make our lactose intolerant brothers and sisters in the Lord go into a coma at the very sight.

The only thing I hated more than this air-polluted dreadful city was my wonderful job. Note the sarcasm.

"It's going to be a great day," I tried to affirm myself, trying to ignore the migraine I had from sitting up too fast.

Making my way to the bathroom, I heard a gut-wrenching knock at the door, although it was soft, with the hangover it sounded like a gunshot.

"Who could that be now?" I asked myself, putting on some slippers, not bothering to put a robe over my thin, short nightgown before making my way to the door.

"Zipporah!" the familiar voice called out from behind the door, "Zipporah are you home?"

I unlocked the door, meeting my neighbor Joe's friendly gaze, although his gaze was a bit too friendly. A 27-year-old blond, short, blue-eyed, British cutie who had grown fond of me since I moved in about three years ago, how could I not smile when he was beaming sheepishly in front of me?

"Hi Zipporah, good morning!" he stuttered, hearing him stutter at the sight of me was quite a wonderful way to boost my ego so early in the morning, "hungover again?" he asked.

"You know it! Good morning to you too Joe, would you like some tea this morning? The water is boiling," I said in a light tone, pulling all my hair to sit at the side of my face, watching him grow more nervous as I stared dead into his eyes.

"No no, the way you make tea could give poor, diabetic me a trip to heaven, no coming back unfortunately," he said, bursting into a little giggle that made me smirk.

"Sure then, what brings you here so early?"

"I just came to beg, no smoking in the hallway this early morning," Joe said, tilting his frameless glasses back up.

"My oh my, I didn't know my leisure was causing a nuisance. You know it's just to relieve the stress of my horrible, horrible workplace before I land there for another day and I just-"

"It's alright, it's fine. At least not just in front of my daughter," Joe said.

"Anything for you Joe, I'll tone it down a bit, hmm?" I gave him a small smile, and although he reciprocated, I chose to believe he practiced that speech to come out much more aggressively.

"Alright, I'll take my leave now. Have a nice day, Zipporah," Joe said. He waved and I waved back, watching him walk across the hall to his own apartment before I closed my door.

Now it was time to actually start the day. The part where I said drinking tea in the hallway, I meant 'taking in nature', and drinking tea, has to be the girliest thing to do in the morning.

Right?

The water was hot and ready for my tea by the time I had cleaned my room to my satisfaction. I was finally at peace with my snug robe, my gigantic mug in one hand, and a lit-up blunt in another.

It's going to be a good day.

~

Apparently not.

If only I had a truck to run over the rest of the cars on this road, I clearly forgot how busy Mondays usually are.

I hoped deep down that I wouldn't get the same bullshit this morning from this man. Oh, dreadful Mr. Starkolle, he hated everything about my appearance and my guts. The reason? I have no idea after working there for 6 months so far.

He thought I was quite the catch earlier, but, obviously, I'm not interested in his kind. The narcissistic white fifty-year-old who smokes at least fifty cigarettes per week. That's the only reason he ever screams such nonsense, only at me if I must add, at 9 am, every…blessed…day.

Was my 'slutty wardrobe', the way I talk, the way I walk, my hard work, basically busting my ass for his company to prosper? This man was livid at the mere mention of my name.

He's just mad he couldn't get his wrinkly p***s in me, sure it's small anyway. Big ego, small d**k.

I ran in and sat at my workstation hoping I wasn't too late. I mean I was definitely 'late', I just hoped he wouldn't notice I was late. 9:05 am, the time read. I knew I was definitely going to get it today. Even days when I literally get here at 9 am or 8:59 am, it's like I just killed his dog or something. I could never do right in this man's eyes but I have it up to here.

"Zipporah again," the man of the hour shouted from a distance looking like a boiling bleached pig in the morning, as usual, before I even got the chance to sit. How does one even have so much energy early in the morning?

I adjusted my glasses, staring him in the eye with an obvious grimace on my face as he rambled, my bag pressed against my chest, most likely making the cleavage swell as I caught him taking obvious glances. That perv.

Sometimes I wish I could poison this man or quit my job and move somewhere else, but with my current situation with my ever-so-absent parents, I unfortunately have to cling to this job for dear life, not necessarily but I don't like staying idle.

"Are you even listening to me?" he raised his hand to snap his dwarf fingers obnoxiously in my face.

Just then, irritation filled my veins. I was fed up, I could definitely survive without this job, my mind was telling me, speaking out of the blood-boiling anger, "In my defense sir, you have been here shouting for 10 minutes at your earliest employee ever. Take a look around, this is how it is every goddamn day, yet I am the only one you put all your frustrations from your drug addict son on. You do this every day without fail when I'm literally the earliest one here."

He stood there, shocked with his mouth wide, staring at me with his blood boiling. As I closed my mouth, the immediate 'You are so f****d' feeling filled my guts. Our attention shifted to the door from which one of my co-workers just signed in from, "You see what I'm talking about? Yet you don't do s**t about it!"

"Hey don't put that on me!" the man who just walked in said.

"Oh, shut the f**k up!" I barked back.

"Well, you're fired. Have a nice life, Ms. Cambero," he said.

In my life, I've never heard those words as I'm the one who usually quits. Companies or employees see a hot girl that happens to be the complete package, boobs and ass with a thin waist and they want to f**k you on the spot. When you don't agree, they treat you anyhow they please till you either give up and sleep with them or quit yourself.

"You know what Mr. Starkolle? Let me save you the trouble, I quit you fuckard," he turned around, his face as red as a spanked baby, "f**k you. I hope they run out of cigarettes at every store within your reach!"

I grabbed my bag and stormed out of the building, wondering eyes staring at me as I stomped out, most likely just wondering why I was running out with tears in my eyes. I ran to my luckily tinted car, dropped my bag in the passenger seat, and closed the door.

The adrenaline finally dropped in my system and the tears escaped my eyes onto my palms. I just cry after I get angry on a normal note. I was satisfied with my decision, happy to say the least.

Fuck Mr. Starkolle, I'm better off!

I sat in the car with my eyes red from rubbing tears off them. I had already driven back home instead of sulking in my car where the other employees could have easily seen me and then started knocking on my window to send their fake condolences.

I was now completely jobless and happy. At least I still have a car a bomb-ass apartment, and enough money to survive, and my online program and investments are still running well. I would sooner or later need to find an actual job and the sooner I start searching, the better before I run mad in my own space.

I felt my phone ring from inside my pocket, the vibration making me shiver, "Hello?"

"What's up, darling," Devina, my best friend, her voice echoed on the other end. It sounded like she was still home, "where are you? How are you?"

"In my car," I sighed, releasing the tightness in my chest, "Bad if I'm being honest."

"I know you've never been a Monday person. What's up now? Starkolle has a larger stick up his ass than usual?" she asked.

Oh, she has no idea, "Well now he would, I quit, just thinking about my life in the car."

"What!? That's great news!" her voice showed how ecstatic she was, I had to take the phone off my ear for a bit to keep my ability to hear, "I'm coming over right now!"

"What about work?" I asked, picking my bag up before stepping out of the car, my shoulder supporting the phone to my ear as I jammed the car door.

"Girl, f**k work! I'm coming over, literally five minutes away," Devina said.

"Oh, look at you! you little rebel! When did you start skipping work?" I said, jamming the door to my apartment with my foot.

"I'll tell you everything when I come, sit tight!"

"Alright love, I'll be waiting," I smiled, hanging up before throwing the phone on the bed.

I swung open my curtains, the room lit up immediately, the day seemed a bit more bright and beautiful if I must say. As I took off my work shirt, planning on how to dismantle it and then use it as a rag, I heard a notification come in.

Still in just my underwear, I picked up my phone to read it.

"I'm having a rough day. I'm going to be bringing you some cash, food, and some new makeup tonight so make time for me and get ready."

A slight shiver ran down my spine as I read Landry's text, feeling the slightest bit of excitement as I could use the cash.

Landry is what people would call a sugar daddy to me, he comes over to get the best cat in the world and I get the princess treatment I deserve. It's more than that still, we sometimes go for drives, talk, and vent to each other, and I presume he appreciates my company too. He doesn't have a wife but he has two children, one of which is my actual age mate which I choose to ignore most of the time when he brings her up.

I slipped into my nightgown, tied up my hair, and headed back out with exactly four rolled up in my hands and my cell phone. I planned on making my signature mean Pasta for when Devina arrives because when she says she's minutes away, she's most likely just leaving her house.

"Is that Zip's famous pasta I smell?" I nearly jumped out of my skin, letting the spoon drop to the floor before I turned around and held my chest, "you look like you've seen a ghost."

"No s**t!" I rolled my eyes, bending over to pick up the spoon that fell, my heart still running, "How did you get in anyway? I could swear I locked that door."

"Oh darling, you're high already? Without me?" the fake empathy in her voice was gut-wrenching.

"I'm serious," I deadpanned.

"Jeez," she raised her hands above her head, "the door wasn't locked when I came."

I sighed, pinching my forehead as it vibrated, "You're early."

"I did say I was a few minutes away, no?" Devina said, a sigh echoing as she crashed on the couch.

"Dev, when you say a few minutes away, we both know you might not have even left your house," I stirred the pot, my nose filling with the sweet aroma of the pasta that sweetened my brain.

"Guilty but today I'm early so give me my flowers," she said.

I rolled my eyes, "your flowers are going to be pasta instead."

"I'll take it."

As I figured, she can't say no to my pasta. I served her portion to the brim of the plate and mine then placed it on the tray, carrying it over to the center table. I watched the drool escape from Devina's mouth as the steam escaped the pasta, creating a proud smirk on my face.

"Ice cream?" I asked, scouring through the fridge to look for what I could offer.

"Yes please."

"Alright," I took the two large cups of ice cream to the table, "I suggest you start with the ice cream, the pasta is still straight out the po-" Before I could finish my sentence, I wasn't so surprised when she started huffing and puffing like a dog with steam coming from her mouth.

"You're a grown woman, do I need to tell you to blow your food or wait before you put it in your mouth?"

"Spare me the lecture, Aunty," she said, placing another spoon in her mouth.

Both our heads shot up as the doorbell rang. My heart had jumped a bit because I wasn't expecting anyone at the hour, everyone I knew was either at work or knew I was at work.

"I'll get that."