When it rains it pours

That was my most worst, horrible, hope to never get repeated in my life!.

I fought with Damon in front of all his secretaries and successfully hurt him before returning back to my office only to be critised by my client since I didn't meet the expectations that her 'friends' used on me in an exaggeration manner apparently to lastly be standing in front of my boss who looked pretty mad, mind you.

"What's wrong, son?" Asked my manager sternly. He seemed dissapointed in a way.

Just before I get to think that it was because of my relationship with the higher ups that he summoned me to his office just after I went out of our conference room to meet up with my client. He surprised me yet again coming with something so out of the box!

"You think this your playground?" He asked me again straightening his tie before he stood up from his chair.

"No, I don't Sir" I replied firmly, trying my damned hardest not to turn because I would get to see my colleagues mocking eyes.

"Then why are you daydreaming when I expect you to do your job!" He yelled, throwing me my first complaint to my face. On the bright side he seemed to be treating me the same as before. No changes in his attitude.

"I'm not feeling great" I excused myself looking at the piece of paper that had my name and flaws on.

"Are you doing this because of your teammates prejudices or because this is your first criticism?" Asked the manager seriously.

"I was just drained sir, that's all" I explained with a straight face. That was total humiliation.

"Then, why don't you rest before coming to work?" Asked the manager sternly leaving my mouth shut.

"Listen, I can always give you the permission to go and recuperate at home for whatever shit that's troubling you but, you need to change yourself because what's going on in my department? I don't like it" He said seriously with shake of his head emphasis.

"I'm sorry, Sir. Please, help me change" I begged in earnestly.

"I have emailed you a folder with everyone's strong points when it comes to designing and why we hired them. Go and take a look through that shit and make up your mind on whom to let your work with, get it?" The manager asked dismissively.

"Yes, Sir" I said firmly before returning to my chair. I was truly drained and my head felt full for some reason. I was like a robot for a minute.

"You okay, Anderson?" Asked Frankie worriedly interrupting my void state of mind.

"Yeah, yes...yes, thank you" I stammered my reply making burn in humiliation afterwards. What's with the bad days. To think that I can't even talk straight? Was killing my ego.

"You don't look so good. Pale like a sheet of paper, Should I bring you a glass of water, perhaps?" Asked Frankie eyeing me worryingly.

"No..." I started but, some shit faced dog has to interrupt!

"Frankie!, if the fag said he's okay then he is!" Yelled Hans irritatedly.

"I really am okay but, thanks for your concern" I told her with a sincere warm smile ignoring Hans before I clicked on my email and read the folder from the boss in silence.

"Guys..." I called awkwardly to my coworkers after I was done with the folder, who were miraculously busy with their own things before clearing my throat and swallowed a bitter bile that was threatening to rise.

Crying for help never came easy for me and so is criticism, they hurt my pride. But, in a span of an hour I got to do both and that sucked!.

"I... uh...*sigh* I have... *clearing my throat* this project that I don't... *taking in air* I don't quite get...*cough*" I told them with a shakey voice, gripping tightly on my table.

"Will you please help me meet my deadline?" I said silently at last and I'd be lying if I say that it didn't nearly break me to pieces when I got no reaction for nearly thirty seconds from them.

"Is he seriously begging right now?" Asked George who was genuinely shocked.

"I... I ... please, I need a sick leave and I can't have that without the project signed and..." I trailed off to continue with my inhaling exhaling mechanism before I lose my consciousness right then and there.

"We get it, Anderson..." Said Stephanie coming to my rescue but, not before glaring at George.

"So, where are the client's dits and your last draft?" Asked Stephanie flatly looking straight at me making my gaze fall to my table.

"No, I don't get it. Not unless he apologize to me for acting like an arrogant dick!" Said Hans eyes piercing my soul.

I was fragile at the moment. So fragile that without even my knowledge tears were streaming down my cheeks right there in front of people. That never happened before.

The day was really getting to me.

"Fuck! Now you made the fag cry making us look like bullies" Accused George looking horrified by my tears making me double my tears falling, body tremblings and hiccups once in awhile.

"No,... No...You're not bullies just that...*sob* *sob*..." I trailed off, hiding my face in my palms. I was ashamed. Maybe, that's why people say that I wasn't man enough in the past.

"Will you guys just cut it out?" Warned Stephanie, annoyed before, I felt palms on my back

"We are sorry for making it hard for you to cooperate with us" She apologized softly as if cajoling a baby.

"Give us the client's details and your drafts. We'll submit it to the manager when we are done with our version of it. Right, guys?" Frankie asked the others frantically getting grunts and 'tsks' from the boys with Stephanie silently patting my back soothingly.

I was grateful but I couldn't get myself to say the words.

In no time I was in the elevator with my coat on one hand and briefcase on the other riding up to Damon's floor. I had to go and apologize and salvage whatever was left of his dignity and powerful reputation he built for himself before I go home to sleep the day off.

"Forgot any trash to take down with you?" Asked one bitched bitch once the elevator opened on Damon's floor. Was she that free? But, she gave me a sense of familiarity.

Vulnerabilities? Not my thing. But, being a thorny bitch? Call me the master. And word fights? Are like my haven.

"I don't think you really want me to get you out of here, sweetie" I said elegantly yet arrogantly looking back at her up and down.

"Is this idiotic slut calling you trash, Tasha?" Asked the other gorgeous lady coming out of the president's office with a mocking smirk my way.

"Well, at least I wasn't far from your name, Trashy, right?" I asked feigning curiosity making Tasha seethe in anger. My goal exactly.

"You are rude!" Observed one secretary flatly while collecting scattered papers on her desk before binding them together.

"And shameless!" Said another secretary this one was busy with her desktop. Didn't even glance my way. Ouch, I'm wounded.

"Not really your place to judge... I need to see the president" I said with a straight spine.

"FYI. President Emule is married and far from taking a gay bottom for mistress. So how about you take your golddigging ass out of here?" Said Tasha pointing to the elevator.

"Who would he take to be his mistress then..., you?" I asked mockingly at the girl but, I was still jealous that we don't look like lovers in the slightest only me like a golddigger. How fair is that?.

"Would? Use the present honey and you'll find me" Said Tasha intimidatingly.

"You're his mistress?" I asked shocked. I knew better than to believe the girl but, what can I do? I always thought that he'll someday fall out of love with me.

"You thought it was you?" Someone mocked me but, I couldn't really register anything than words at the moment with blurry eyes and headaches coming to me strong.

"Look... He's powerful, yes. Married, yes. Devoted to his wife? according to rumours...yes, but, he's still a man deep down" Gloated Tasha eyeing my pitiful self. I was slowly fading to the black bottomless pit.

"Did you just call yourself my mistress?"

I heard Damon's threatening voice with a ting of mockery making me fall to the ground. Fainted.