Abby

My body feels as though it doesn’t belong to me as I stalk to the breakroom. I

feel like a puppet on strings that have been cut, like my limbs are made of lead

and my body might give out from beneath me at any moment.

When I’m alone in the breakroom once again, though, I can’t contain my fury

any longer.

“Dammit!” The word explodes out of my mouth, and without thinking, I whirl

around and let my shoe connect with the wall. There’s a faint but satisfying

crack, and when I pull away, there’s a slight dent where I unleashed my rage.

Enter title…

It’s almost laughable, seeing how small the dent is. It’s like my own body won’t

even do what I want, let alone the ingredients on that stage out there.

My mind is whirling with so many thoughts that I barely even register the door

creaking open. But then that venomous voice, that voice that I’ll hear in my

nightmares for years to come, slices through the air like an arrow whizzing past

my ear.

“Oh, Abby,” Daniel says, the sneer audible in his voice without me even having

to look at him. I can picture him without even turning around, that horrendous

of his lips.

start, Daniel,” I hiss, leaning on the counter,

him.

he just chuckles. “What?” he says, coming

concerned, aren’t I?”

not to respond, but it seems

and I can feel my resolve beginning to crumble. “Boy, that sure was

You know, maybe it really should’ve

It would have saved you

nails digging into my palms

pain anchors me, if

letting him

he continues, relentless as ever,

it? You never belonged

a—”

whirl around to face him, my eyes ablaze,

next

little slut who belongs in the bedroom,

culinary world,” he hisses.

something shatters inside of me. My

I close the distance between us,

voice trembling with the force of my anger, “are a

for a chef. And an even worse excuse for a

widens, that infuriating, cocky smirk of a

“Struck

arm tense. Before I can stop myself, I’m stepping

my hand poised to slap him across the

He’s a rat, a cockroach, a stain on

me and Karl, but

the nerve to spit slurs in my face

glances at my raised hand, and that’s

it—the flicker of doubt in his gaze, the

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