A month passed by since Chance Hughs was appointed the new CEO. He was doing a pretty amazing job and had a close relationship with his employees. Everyone adored him at the workplace. When he passed by a group of females, you could see them literally drooling.

He was the boss everyone wished to have, but couldn't get because there was only one Chance Hughs. He was a better boss than his father was, or so does everyone say.

Yesterday when I passed the receptionist on the ground floor, I heard her talking on the phone with her friend, I assumed.

She said, "My boss is such a sweetheart. He is handsome, well-mannered, patient and a gentleman."

That's her words, not mine. And then, a few hours later on my department, I heard Jeremy Miles, the graphic designer, say to someone, "You should meet the CEO of this place, man. That guy knows his job perfectly well. And he's humble I tell you."

There were some nice comments about him that were sweet. Sweeter than honey even. That was cute. The cutest.

Now, my opinion. Sweet my ass! Every time I hear someone talk sweet nothings about him, I could feel a vein wanting to pop. When I hear just a mere whisper of his name, my knuckles throb, wanting to punch his handsome face.

He's patient, they say. He's an angel, they say. He's the best CEO, they say!

You know, I've been living in terror for a month. My life has been a living hell. It has been turned into a joke. All because I was apparently ‘rude’ to him when he crashed into me.

I went to University to study a course in marketing. I went to a University to further my studies to have a better future. You know what I didn't go to University for? I didn't go there to study how to run errands. How to be a lapdog or how to drive your CEO around town. I didn't go there to become somebody else's inexperienced PA.

Want to know the worst part? The worst part was that he had his own PA to entertain his nonsense, yet he wanted me to run errands for him. He said his PA was a female, but when I pitched there, I was surprised to see a man. Chance said he fired his old PA and hired a new one. At the end of the month, I didn't even get an increase.

All I got was my normal salary and a forced volunteering to drive Chance back to his place. A thank you never escaped his lips. All he knew best was to smirk, frown and taunt me on my driving skills. He said even a blind granny could drive faster than me.

Believe me, I talked back. I sassed him. I retorted back and swore at him with all the derogatory terms. And want to know what I did to keep my job? I did all of the above in my head. I cursed him from heaven to hell, from the ocean to the volcano. All in my head, and I got the satisfaction from that.

I was bitter because he made me his slave. He made me drive him to and from work. I changed my whole routine to accommodate his. At lunchtime, he made me go to the café and we ate together, then after, he made me drive him to his place, then made me collect his files. And I noticed something. After I drove him to his place at lunchtime, he never came back to the office. In my eyes, he was incompetent.

One time, I did ask him why he had enslaved me. You know what he did? He just looked at me and asked if I had a job somewhere else that needed my utmost attention. He said that he could relieve me of my job as the marketing director of his company. I never questioned his odd behavior again of enslaving me.

And when we ate our lunch together, it was always filled with an awkward silence. He didn't even try to get to know his driver better or his inexperienced PA. All he knew was to order me around to drive him and to collect his files. I had become demotivated to go to work because of his behavior. It was started to irritate me, and it was frustrating because I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

This time, we were seated together in a restaurant. He was eating his steak, but I had long lost my appetite. I was just gazing out the window, watching people go on with their lives. The restaurant wasn't full, nor empty. He decided today that we needed to change where we ate our lunch. He said the cafe was starting to bore him. Of course he got bored of the finer things in life because he could afford them all.

"Aren't you going to finish your food?" I heard him ask. I shook my head, still looking out the window. The clicks of his fork and knife against his plate ceased. I felt his stare on my face.

"Why?" he asked.

That was such an innocent question. A simple question, yet I didn't have an answer. It was simple as one plus one is equal to two.

Why. Why? Why!

Because I lost my appetite. Because I'm tired of your bullshit that it's affecting my appetite. Because I'm sick and I'm angry.

I no longer have an appetite because I started taking new medication and it's messing with me.

There were so many answers I could provide him with, but none of them were right. None of them sounded good enough. And plus, they were personal and kind of secretive. So I settled for a tight-lipped smile.

"Okay. Whatever you say, man. This steak is sooooo good. Sure you don't want a bite?"

I had the mind to wipe the smirk off his face. He was flashing the piece of meat on his fork on my face.

"No. Could you just stop. It's embarrassing."

It was because the people in the restaurant were looking at us. I could feel blood rushing to my face because of this. He brought the fork to his lips and ate the meat on it.

"You are missing out. And plus, you're wasting food. Why did you even order when you knew you were not going to eat?" he asked me, grabbing his glass of juice and drinking.

I just stared at him. Was he serious?

"You do know that I'm the one who's paying for my food, right?" I asked him out of sheer boredom.

He rolled his eyes, making me feel insignificant. If this was serious, I swear I would've flipped at him.

"I was planning on paying for both of us today. You know, just trying to show my gratitude for you offering to drive me around. I really appreciate it, Jones."

He was staring at me like I was his sunshine, his savior and his source of amusement.

I couldn't believe what he was saying. He said I offered to drive him around. That I offered! Did I offer? Did I offer? I don't remember offering to DRIVE him around!

"Oh, come on, Jones! It was just a joke. No need to burst your precious head. Anyway, we need to get going," he said, raising his hand to signal the waiter over.

I chugged down my drink and stood up along with Chance. He paid the bill for both of us, as promised. That actually surprised me.

We headed into my car and we put on our seatbelts. I drove out of the parking lot and into the road. I hated awkward silences that I reverted to turning the radio on to a random station. Every time I turned the radio on, he always turned it off, saying, "It's noisy. I can't stand it."

He always said that. It's like he knew that the silence was killing me. He wanted me to die in agony.

The same scenery that we always passed was starting to get boring and plain. I was getting tired of it all. And I was dizzy. My head was starting to throb painfully. I didn't know if it was because of my empty stomach, or the side effects of the new medication.

What had me stopping at the side of the road was the nauseating feeling I felt.

"What the heck are you doing?" Chance yelled at me.

I quickly opened the door and bolted outside, bending over as I felt bile rising up my throat. I retched painfully, but nothing was coming out.

"What the fuck! Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

I honestly thought that he was concerned for my well-being, but I was proven wrong when he continued, "You could've gotten us killed, Jones! Do you know what would've happened to you? Your fucking corpse would've been jailed until you've decomposed! Were you trying to kill me? That is so selfi-"

I punched him hard on his abdomen. I continued on landing punch after punch that had him desperately trying to block them.

"You fucking prick! I'm gonna kill you! You hear? I'm going to fucking kill you!" I screamed at his face when he landed with a thud on the ground. I pummeled his face, hot tears trailing furiously down my cheeks. I could taste the salty liquid passing down my lips in waves. Blood was spitting out of his skin, staining my knuckles. All I saw was red. His protests and screams went unheard. I was blinded by rage that I lost sense of judgement.

"You are a fucking bully!" I continued screaming maliciously at his sorry of an excuse face.

How dare he yell at me when I was vulnerable? Who does he think he is? Those things he said. He said that I tried to kill him. He was insulting me. Was my pain not enough for him? Didn't he see that I was suffering? That I was a ticking bomb? I could explode anytime and drag him down with me?

My arms were giving out on me, my punches now powerless and sluggish. I could no longer see him because my tears were blinding me. I could hear him whimper, his hands no longer shielding his face. The adrenalin that was fueling my body was dissipating. The high that I felt a few minutes ago was lowering, bringing with it my senses.

I weakly wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt, sobs filling my ears. I was sobbing hysterically because I was hurting. My mind was trying to register what I had done.

What have I done?

"I-I am so s-sorry. I'm sorry. I d-don't know what came over me," I was apologizing tremendously, my voice shaking as I looked at a bloodied Chance. His face was covered in blood, movements jerky when he tried to sit up. Groans were filling the air. His pain-filled groans. They were haunting me.

I should take him to the hospital.

No.

I felt pathetic and useless. How could I do that? What's wrong with me? I should take him to the hospital. They'll know what to do. They'll fix him up.

No, no, no. I'm going to jail. They'll arrest me if I took him to the hospital. He can't go. He can't go to the hospital.

I wiped my eyes to rid the tears that were falling. "I... I'm going to fix you up. I'm going to heal you. I'm going to make you brand new," I told him. He was struggling to sit up by himself. So I helped him. He flinched from my touch, like I was going to hit him again.

What have I done?