Mesmerising Emerald Eyes

====MORGAN====

The night finally came. It means this tiring day has already ended. However, unlike those colleagues of mine, I have to continue working at the bar.

After changing my uniform and wearing my casual white shirt and black slacks, I immediately headed to the door. I have no idea why, but I just feel that a pair of eyes are watching me.

I simply shrug, perhaps I am just too tired. When I finally step out of the door, a strong wind unexpectedly whooses towards me and I almost fall. Thanks to the door frame that I manage to keep still, otherwise, I will be lauhing stock again.

I frown, somehow, I feel the wind odd, but I eventually choose to keep going. My time is precious to waste thinking about something unknown.

I hurried straight to a Starbucks Bar that is just only a block away from the store, carrying nothing with me other than my grumbling stomach.

I can't even afford to buy a single biscuit. Although I work very hard, it has never been enough to keep my stomach full.

I badly want to go home since it is already past six in the evening and have a taste of my mother's cooking. However, it will be too much for me to sacrifice what I have. Not only will it cost some money for the fare, it will also waste my little time when I can at least use it for a short nap.

To those who don't know me. I am Morgan Heirden. I am 24 years old. I am not that typical guy that every girl wanted, but an unfortunate and big loser man that only brought soreness in their eyes.

I am the breadwinner of the family. I work day and night. I am a male cashier in the convenience store at day and a waiter in the Starbucks Bar at night. And guess how I got these jobs? 

Well, I got these jobs after begging them on my knees for an entire night, with rain pouring heavily all over me. The next morning, I got sick.

So these jobs are very important to me. My jobs are as important as my family, since I only rely on these jobs to support my sickly brother and older parents.

As soon as I reach the employer's locker, I glimpse the clock hanging on the wall. Realizing that I still had almost twenty minutes left before my duty, I decided to give myself a rest.

I immediately grab a hidden spot and sit there in a fetal position. As soon as my butt touches the cold floor, I feel my eyes getting heavier and it doesn't take long until I fall asleep.

Not long after I close my eyes, I jerk out of sleep because I feel that the water once again pouring all over me. I tried to open my eyes, but I failed to flip them open.

What is happening? 

Is someone making fun of me?

And who just splashes water on me?

I decide to stand and ask for help, only to discover that I am unable to move my body as well. Only I can feel an excruciating pain enveloping my whole body and unutterable exhaustion.

What is this now?

What exactly was happening to me right now?

Did someone catch me and torture me while I was asleep?

How ridiculous! This must be a dream. A fucking nightmare. But why can I feel everything like it is really happening to me?

And I even feel so awake.

My questions are left unanswered and my confusion becomes more intense when I suddenly feel a hand caressing my face.

The hand is frosty, it is colder than the floor and far colder than the rain. It is as if it belongs to someone who is already dead. However, her caress gives my body an overwhelming warmth. It gives me a sense of safety and a strange feeling, which is that I actually felt love.

I can't understand this.

Who owns this hand?

Why do I have this kind of feeling towards a stranger?

Before millions of questions flood into my mind, an enchanting voice rings in my ears, "Rest assured, my love. This world has me. I will keep it safe for you. As for those rats, I will hunt them one by one. I'll drink their blood to make them remember you. FOREVER."

Those words are very emotional. Despite not seeing her, I can see her sorrow through her voice, I can feel her hatred through the way she enunciates every word. The stranger is, I feel everything so real and the pain she feels breaks my heart, making my body tense and even more uncomfortable.

Worse, the pain that we mutually feel causes my closed eyes to tear, and before I can stop it, numerous pearls of tears stream down my cheeks.

Out of reflex, I raise my hand, intending to wipe my tears. It is then I discover that I can now move my hand. Not only can I move my hand, I unintentionally get my eyes open as soon as my fingers make contact with my tears, awaken by it, and am greeted by a realization that everything I feel earlier just belongs to a mere dream as I still find myself sitting on the same spot I occupy.

I made a quick check on my surroundings and then move my baffled look to the wet tips of my finger, staring at them blankly.

=====

I stay in that perplexing state, even until someone kicks the door open, banging the door panel against the wall as it flips open to the side.

"You lazy rat, come out wherever the rathole you squeezed yourself  in!!!" 

The manager's furious voice snaps me out of a trance, and that immediately sends chills down my spine.

I quickly wiped the tears off my eyes although I can't explain why I had to cry from that dream.

And here is a funny thing about me. I am a grown man, but the managers can easily scare me. Like I am a little kitten needing protection.

I've thought about this for a long time. Perhaps the main reason is, I simply don't want to lose my job, so I have to be modest being around anyone. Well, I don't exactly know.

I rose to my feet and made my way towards him. I am suppressing myself to tremble as I have my head low. 

You see, I'm such a wimp.

"Manager, I'm here." I humbly announced my presence.

"Well, well, well, you're really here." He braces his hands on his sides and angrily growls, "Seems like you don't want your job anymore."

"Of course I want it," I interrupted. I was panicking.

"Then what the hell are you doing here? Do you know what time it is now?"

"It's still—"

Before I can say the time, he impatiently grabs me by my hair and forcefully turns my head to the direction of the clock. "Look at the time, you piece of garbage! You're one hour late!!"

My eyes went round in horror upon reading the time, 'This couldn't be. I just had to close my eyes for a few seconds. But now— no, I can't lose this job.'

Terrified, I immediately dropped on my knees as I usually do, and pleaded, "Manager, I was wrong. Do-don't fire me. I need this job."

I bowed down to him with my hands propping the floor and forehead pressing on it. I worship him as if he is God.

"Manager, this has never happens before. So I can promise you, this won't happen again. Please manager, don't kick me out."

I fail to get any response from him as I keep myself in that position and it is scaring me so badly since he always looks for a reason to either force me to sleep with him or leave.

A second of silence feels like forever, and every tick of the clock feels like the execution of my death is fast approaching.

I shake violently from the thought of losing my job, which I don't know if the manager has noticed.

Unexpectedly, I hear him chuckling, purposely teasing me.

"Raise your head." He ordered me but I refused. I worry that if I do, he will drop the phrase that I never wish to hear on my face.

"Are you deaf? Raise your head, dimwit!" He roars.

Reluctant, I raised my head and was greeted by his menacing smirk just like I anticipated. He slowly bends down and asks softly, "Hey loser, do you really want to continue working here?"

"Yes, manager," I replied.

Tears want to fall from my eyes as I find myself so pathetic like this, but I draw them back so quickly. Because I know to myself that I will hate to see my own self crying.

Since the burden of providing for my family passed to my shoulders, I didn't cry again no matter how hurt I was or suffering. 

I always keep in mind that tears can only give satisfaction to people who always mean to make you suffer.

Just exactly like this. I am just garbage in his eyes, and I will forever be garbage for him.

My tears will only please his uncompassionate heart, and I think he doesn't deserve it.

"Very well. You can stay. But, on one condition."

I find something off with his words. I gulp from that realization but choose to remain silent.

He brings his face closer to me, in which I notice again that same lust sparkling in his eyes the first time we met as he stares into mine. "Come to my office once you're done with your shift. I'll tell you there."

He lifts my chin with his finger, and whispers playfully to my ear, "This will be your last chance, handsome boy. Don't ever let me down."

I shiver in disgust from that closed contact. I am aware that he is interested in me and my constant refusal of his offer to sleep with him is in fact the root of my suffering in this bar. 

I clench my fists. I feel like wanting to punch his face. However, when I feel like I want to, I will see my family's faces covered with tears.

I hold my temper. I can't lose my temper with this man.

He pats my shoulder and turns away from me. Before he leaves, he orders, "There are plenty of customers tonight. Go to the cellar and get our best-selling wines ready."

Once he is gone, everything in me seems to have left my body for several seconds, including my soul.

I feel uncomfortably stuffy, so once again, tears are threatening to fall from my eyes. However, I choose not to give in to my feelings, as always.

With that, I sat limply on the floor and thought, 'Morgan, just hang on. This will end one day. You won't be in this situation forever.'

I have no idea why I am confident that I can rise to the top one day. I just feel it within me that it will surely come. I just have to hang on.

That thought comforts me a little. I take a deep breath, and I pick myself to do the work. 

I rush towards the door, and due to horrible luck of mine, I am being cursed. I accidentally trip on my own foot, and SHOOT, I stumble down with my head falling straight to the edge of the table.

I groan as pain burns intensely on my temple. I feel some sticky liquid tickling me down my cheek. When I touch it and look at the tips of my fingers, blood registers in my sight.

I neither exclaimed in horror nor shock. After all, it is all expected. I am that unlucky.

I sneered, "Nice start for the night. I can't find any day better than this."

I head to the comfort room, and directly drown my face with the water as I hold in my breath.

I only retract myself when I can no longer hold my breath. As I caught a glance in the mirror to check myself, a pair of mesmerising emerald eyes were staring at me.