Chapter 8 : Spilling Over

*Trinity's POV*

I shrank back against the door, unprepared for the hatred that came out of his tone. I suddenly felt nervous as I realized he and I were alone. He had been angry at me before, but it was nothing like this, and it worried me.

It didn't phase Mr. Withers, though.

"I asked what the fuck do you think you are doing?!" he spat at me again. "What?! You’re eavesdropping on me now too?!"

Gulp.

Guess the niceties we had established somewhat on Friday night were gone and the Monday morning anger was here in full vengeance.

I stuttered, trying to think of what to say; how to explain that Amber told me to come in and that I had the gift for Anne that I had picked up. The last part, at least, should make him happy…right?

Maybe if I explained myself, he would understand what the situation truly was.

"No, I just—" I started, but I couldn’t find the words. I was frozen in terror. Terror of his wrath, terror of losing my job, terror of it stressing me to the point of the baby….

But he didn’t give me a chance to think any further.

"WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT EXCUSES?!" he yelled out, making me flinch. "I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT!"

I bit my lip and replayed my conversation with my sisters, trying to keep from breaking down. I kept thinking the same thing over and over to give me something to focus on and to bite my tongue. I needed to make this okay, I needed to keep pushing forward with this. I needed to, no matter how badly I wanted to destroy the gift that I was carrying in hand.

I need the job. I need the job. I need the job.

But rationality was starting to take over my mind, and I couldn’t help but start to get pissed. Who the fuck yells at a pregnant woman, especially one that was doing exactly what he asked?! What was wrong with him?! Why did he have to treat me like shit every single time that I talked to him?!

And to think that I was just feeling bad for him made me even angrier. This guy was not worth the headache.

No. I stopped myself. I need the job. I need the job. I need the job.

I bit my lip even harder to keep myself from talking and I swore if I bit any harder, I’d draw blood. And he only continued and continued.

"All you have done is screw up. I don't know why we even hired you," Mr. Withers scoffed.

By now, his tone had calmed down and returned to the heartless one I had grown accustomed to. It still grinded against my ears.

Then he spewed the first insult. "You are worthless."

Then the second. "You were just the only option that we had for a quick hire, and now I think about it, we would have been better to wait. I mean, all you do is get coffee. A dog could do that with the right training.”

Wow. I need the job. I need the job. I need the job.

The baby kicked from inside my belly hard, and I pressed my hand against it, wincing. I was getting attacked from all sides now. I returned my gaze to Mr. Withers, not wanting to back down from his challenge, despite the feelings it was causing.

I was not as weak as he thought, as everyone had thought over the past six months, and I would prove that now. He would not break me, no matter what he said.

He continued to glare back at me as I looked but thankfully didn't say anything else. The longer we stood in silence, the smaller the flame in his eyes seemed to fade. Within just a few minutes, I noticed a different look on his face as he seemed to completely cool down.

It looked like intrigue like he was surprised I hadn’t broken down crying or screamed back at him. His head cocked to the side slightly, and then when I didn’t say anything still, his face shifted again to a different emotion. One that I hadn’t seen on him before.

Was that…guilt?

I couldn't be sure because it was gone almost as fast as it had come. His face was now stone cold once more, and his green eyes flickering from the dim light above. At least it wasn't filled with hatred, though. I wasn't sure which I hated more, his unemotional face or his rage face.

Mr. Withers broke his gaze first and grabbed his dress coat from the chair in front of him and ripped his arms through, the only proof that he was still upset. His face was still stoic.

"You are dismissed for the day," he said evenly. "You can leave."

For the day? But work just started.

I went to rebuttal when he walked by me and right out the door without another look. I stood there in silence, processing what had just happened. Processed the words that he had yelled at me. The stuff he had said about me.

The longer I stood there and thought about it, the angrier I got with myself. How did I not stand up for myself at all?! I knew I needed the job, but as Arielle said, I needed to set my own boundaries about what was acceptable. And I had certainly not done that.

Great.

I thought about what I would have said, what I should have said. But instead of making me feel better, I felt like I had missed the opportunity.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn't have what it takes to deal with him or this company. All I had done since I started was mess up. Then I cut myself off. This was his doing. He was the one in the wrong here, not me. None of this was my fault.

I took a few deep breaths. This was the most heightened that my emotions had been for months, and I wasn't sure how to respond to it. It was highly overwhelming and I wasn’t sure at this point if I was trying to stop myself from crying or laughing like a maniac.

I walked over to the elevator and hurried inside, convinced I would take off after him and give him a piece of my mind. But as soon as I entered the elevator, my finger hesitated over the button.

I need the job. I need the job. I need the job.

FUCK!

I hit the button for the office and stormed out through the doors as soon as they opened. Amber looked startled as I appeared, but I simply threw the present onto my desk and turned around to catch the elevator door again before it shut.

Amber stared after me with her mouth open, still processing what was happening before her. I stepped back in and pressed the button to go down.

"Trinity!" But I ignored her calls. I needed to get home before I did or said something I'd regret.

Sorry, Amber, nothing personal.

I breathed erratically as the elevator slowly went down and down and down. Most days, the elevator seemed extremely fast, but today, it seemed slower than molasses. I couldn't get to my car soon enough.

Just my luck, I stopped halfway down, and the doors opened, allowing a couple to enter the elevator with me. I nearly held my breath, not wanting to draw attention to myself. The couple stood and continued to talk independently, not paying me any mind, which I appreciated.

Especially since the more I watched them, the worse my mood got. Since Nate died, it was hard for me to be around happy couples. The constant reminder of what I had was too much, and I forced myself to look away.

By the time I got to the base floor, I was starting to feel a little lightheaded, but I still waited until I got outside to start panting again. I went to the light, ready to cross the street to where I had managed to park. The no walking sign was up. I shifted back and forth between my two feet, anxious for it to change and counting down the time on the opposite light.

There was a loud rumble, and I looked up at the sound. A high-end black sports car was driving by the light, and my stomach dropped, no thanks to the baby. Even with the tinted windows, I could tell it was Mr. Withers and his car. Sure enough, I saw his face through the front windshield as he turned.

He looked...dejected. At least, that's what I had thought in that split second.

The sun had almost completely risen, and the tall buildings were casting even more shadows than normal, so maybe it was a trick of the lighting.

Either way, I didn't want to see it.

I quickly turned around, not wanting to look at the sleek vehicle or the man behind the wheel. As much as I didn't want to see him, I didn't want him to see me either. It would piss me off if he knew how much he was affecting me at the moment, and I didn't want to give him that power.

The walk sign appeared on the light, and I took the opportunity to jog across as fast as my bouncy belly would let me move comfortably. As soon as I crossed the road, it was only another short walk to my car, which was relatively new but looked like nothing compared to the cars I had seen as of late.

After traffic cleared, I walked up the side and opened the door, sliding in and shutting the door before the light could change, and the traffic could resume. Once in my car and away from the company, I dropped my head to the top of my steering wheel.

Before I even realized that I was doing it, I was sobbing.

I sat there and tried to collect myself as best as possible, but it seemed like once the floodgates had opened, it was nearly impossible to get them to stop. It had been a long time since I had cried this hard, and I was unsure how to react or even get it to stop so I could drive home.

Driving home while crying was one of the most dangerous things you could do, and after losing my husband, I took safe driving very seriously. I pulled out my phone and debated calling my sisters for comfort or a ride, but I knew that if I told them what had happened, I would just get even more worked up.

The only solution was to wait it out.

After minutes and minutes of breathing, I was finally calm enough to hold it together until I could at least start the trek home. Even though I lived fairly close to work, it felt like hours. It was stressful enough that I had to keep completing the mantra in my head to hold it together.

I need the job. I need the job. I need the job.

But I was beginning to question: was it worth it?