1 Chapter 1: Painful Ends

(Beth's POV)

Staying over my shift at work never really bothers me; however, it's a bit annoying to have to cover part of the same two people’s shift every day consecutively for the last two and a half weeks. Finally given a chance to escape, I beelined toward the front of the store, keeping my head down so no one would be given the chance to stop me. I just want to go home. The less chaos the better.

As I'm clocking out, the store manager stops me. Tom was your typical middle-aged, balding, and slightly overweight manager. He also didn’t know when enough was enough and loved being as rude to his employees as possible. I don't like Tom. He is a creep and could get handsy if things didn’t go his way. Most employees try to steer clear of him.

“Bethany Anne, I need to see you before you leave. My office. Now.” Tom demands with a permanent scowl etched into his sweaty, red face. Could he never just give me a break and cut me some slack?

“Certainly, if you’d stop calling me Bethany Anne I’d be happy too, but this can’t take long, Tom. I have some things I need to take care of after I leave here.” I cheerfully lie, anything to get me out of here quicker.

He points to a chair near his desk, buried in old lunch and paperwork he neglected to do. I wrinkle my nose and drop into the chair. “What’s wrong, Tom? Get to the point.” I demand, watching him slam the office door. I hate when he closes that door. Things never end well when the door shuts.

He doesn't say anything until he sits back down behind his desk. “I’m tired of having this conversation with you, Bethany Anne. You have so much overtime that I’m being forced to pay you almost a second paycheck. You are getting me in trouble with your foolishness. I told you to clock out if you had to cover someone else’s shift.” He huffs and squishes a small fruit fly that had landed on an old cracker still present on his desk. Gross…

I grit my teeth and ball my hands into fists in my lap. This is what this was about? Seriously? While thankful it is nothing bad that would cause me to be another statistic, I was still p*ssed. “Tom, I told you no. If you force me to stay over, you will be paying me for it. It’s against the law to work me with no pay.” I'm close to my breaking point and have almost had enough.

“It’s not illegal if you don’t tell anyone. But that doesn’t matter anyway because today is your last day. I’ve had enough of your attitude and lack of direction. You are a waste of my time and can’t ever follow simple f*cking tasks and I’ve had enough.” Tom spits at me, standing to yank my name tag from my shirt.

Once he’s satisfied himself with his disgusting lingering brush against my collarbone, Tom shatters the cheap piece of plastic nametag and laughs.

Rage fills me that was quickly tempered by my own insecurities. “I will not work without pay. And this wouldn’t even be a d*mn problem if you hired reliable employees or maybe actually did a manager’s job and helped us when we are short staffed.” I pause, wiping a tear from my eye. “Also, touch me again and I’ll make sure your hands never touch another woman ever again.”

I stand and start toward the door to have it slammed shut before I could fully open it. Tom’s horrid and alcohol-scented breath against my ear makes me gag and struggle. “You will leave and never come back. If you know what’s good for you.” I elbow him, causing him to double over in pain.

Not uttering another word, I run from the building. Moving quickly down the street, disappearing around a corner. I only hoped he wouldn’t follow me. This was a time when I needed a car. But I didn’t even pay rent. I helped with other bills and food. Most of my money went to savings so I could buy a car eventually. F*ck, I don’t have a job anymore… What am I going to do?

The walk home is quick and uneventful once I’d stopped shaking from his actions. A normal person would have called the cops. I just wanted to be done with it… I wanted to go home, cry, and eat ice cream.

Clara, my best friend, and roommate isn’t home yet from her shift at the hospital. Taking that time, I clean the kitchen from dinner last night and take a shower to wash away the filth of that store. By the time she'd come in from her shift, I had made an early dinner and was scrolling through my phone trying to find another job.

Clara immediately senses something is wrong. She drops her bag in a chair and moves around the table to where I’m hunched over a bowl of soup and my phone. “What’s wrong Beth? You’re going to make your soup watered down and salty if you don’t stop crying over it.” She jokingly points out.

Her eyes zero in on the job search app I have open. “What happened at work today, Beth?” Her voice softens as her hand pulls my phone away from me, forcing me to look up.

Wiping tears from my eyes, I mumble, “He told me that I could work with no pay, or he would fire me. I told him that I wouldn’t do that. He shoved me against the door. He’s so gross. How can one man function with that much alcohol in his body, Clara?” My shoulders drop and I crumble against the table in defeat.

Clara absently brushes her fingers through my still drying hair and sighs. “Because he’s a despicable man, Beth. Did you call the cops? Are you injured at all?”

I am shaking my head before she can even finish her questions. “No, I don’t want to call the cops. I just want to forget. And no, he didn’t hurt me. My mental state and pride… yes. But physically I’m fine.”

Clara nods slowly and stands up, “Okay. If you want me to call dad and see if he can do anything about it, I’m happy to assist. Otherwise, I’m going to eat some of this soup you made and go take a hot shower. It was a long night in the ER, and I had five of my people die on me over the night. I want to sleep. We’ll talk more about all this after I get some sleep. Okay?” She grabs a large bowl of the cheddar broccoli soup I’d made and disappears into her room.

I feel bad for Clara. She didn’t even give me a chance to respond to her, just left the room. I know she isn't mad at me, rather dead on her feet. Dumping my problems on her after nights like that. Still, I don’t want to bother her dad like that. I know he works for the FBI, but I’m not sure what his job title even is. Just that he is always busy.

Clara is right though. My problems will still be there after sleep. Besides, I hadn’t slept the best and I’m sure some rest will do me good. I clean the kitchen and curl up on the couch.

I'm not ready to go to bed, but a nap sure does sound nice, and I can always watch tv for a while until I fall asleep. After the day I had, I deserve to relax.