Elizabeth's POV

It is a pleasure to run; to escape.

The morning sky is abundant of light but with no sun. I wake up every morning to the sweet rhythm of birds, dress up, go for a run, grab a shower, and head off to work. I feel trapped in my skin, but I grew up loving routines; I'm part of them, and they're part of me. However, one might want to change every once in a while. I need something to spice up my life, a new adventure, a thing that would make me be at the edge of my seat.

My room is my favourite place in the apartment because I've poured the vastest part of my soul into it. Sometimes, people think that I'm boring as hell, the weird girl who prefers a cosy evening than a big party and sticking a book to her nose than gossip.

Lately, I feel that work is draining my energy, even though I love to work, but it has been hectic. I stretch my arm in the sleepy-scented air, curling my fingers at its end. I yawn heavily, regretting the time I've spent binge-watching a series over the night.

Despite having a large bed, I've always fancied sleeping on one side of it. I don't know if it's common to have a preferred side of the bed, but I have one which is nearest to the window. It holds me restfully.

Currently, I'm living alone because the last time I had a roommate was chaotic. She used to keep everything out of order, and I managed to figure out that she adopted my stuff because of the change in their alignment. From the way she criticized everything, I concluded that she was wet behind the ears. We were two extremes, and I didn't think any of us was wrong. Everyone has the right to choose the lifestyle that matches their personality.

On the fence, my life is just as indeterminate as water. I haven't adjusted my ponytail-hairstyle since forever. It feels ominous when I let it slack. Whenever I release my hair, it is always stuck in the same place, making me look like an evil witch under her worn-out robes.

Today is a massively important day at work, so I dress my daintiest clothes and put my hair in the highest ponytail I could manage. Now, off to work.

Winky, my car, seems to be having a rough time too. The engine coughs in my attempts to start it. Maybe she wants to change her engine's oil. As usual, the streets hold high traffic in the morning, so I don't have the luxury of time today.

In the street full of cars horning madly at each other, music is your number one best friend. Every time I stop at a red light, I watch out of the passenger window to see people's expressions and guess their stories. Nevertheless, today, I've gawked too much at a family in the neighbouring car, that I didn't discern the green light, and people weren't so kind.

I geek out of my window, shouting, "Sorry!" Then, I slam my foot on the gas, rapidly moving forward, opening the road for others to pass.

Finally, I arrive at my destination, placing my car in the jammed parking lot. The huge building rises in front of me, towering over its surroundings. People squeeze in and out of the main entrance, with ascetic expressions. I make my way to the elevator amidst the multitude of people standing at both sides. I smile slightly, greeting different passing faces, and completely ignoring others.

Our office is on the seventh floor, so I stand in the queue in front of the odd-floors lift. I squeeze my body between the hurried employees and fiddle with the hem of my beige blazer. The man in front of me accidentally steps on my foot, making me retreat it with pain. As of my sudden move, the heel of my shoes collides with the person standing behind me, hitting him just below the knee.

I flip around, making myself inches away from him, and my hand reaches for his elbow to maintain balance. Fortunately, I effectuate that it's Paul, my colleague. "Sorry about this," I point to his knee that now has a round stain of dust from my heel. "And for this as well," I blush, abandoning his elbow from my firm grip even though he didn't seem to mind it.

He looks at my rosy cheeks and smiles, "No problem at all, Elizabeth."

The rosiness must have spread wider now. Happy that it is someone I know, I commence making small talk regardless of the huffs of everyone around me. Thus, the elevator keeps stopping at every floor, with people rushing in and out. "I haven't seen you entering, though."

His mouth twitches, "I saw you."

It resembles that the cat got his tongue because his responses are shorter than usual. Paul is a hardworking fellow, we've collaborated in a project before, and it turned out better than I'd expected. Nonetheless, we're alike; we try our best to keep our nose clean. It's better to drop the chitchat then.

Exiting the elevator, I feel relaxed. Fortuitously, I see Mr Lawrence, the head of the project management department, who will be leading today's meeting. I greet him gallantly with a courteous smile, "Good morning, Mr Lawrence."

Thoughtlessly, he rumbles without peering at me, "To the meeting room." Afterwards, he leaves me behind, recapitulating his way.

I'm still standing in the office's entrance, puzzled. That bizarre behaviour doesn't hinder me from striving to excuse myself, though. "Spare me an extra two minutes-".

Being a few feet away doesn't stop him from hollering. He repeats with the most monotonic voice without stopping, "To the meeting room."

That man gives me chill to the marrow, yet I have to sustain his coldness because this job helps me bring home the bacon. "What a ba-," I'm about to curse at work, again, when Laura, my work colleague and best friend, bumps into me intentionally. "Whoa! Watch where you're going," I muse, holding both hands abruptly in the air faking offence. "Bitch," I enunciate.

She laughs and rolls her eyes, maliciously, "I've made an excuse to be out of this hell loop today. I'm calling it a day!" Enthusiasm taking over every inch of her face. This girl has lots of zeal.

"Going out with some friends, huh?" I tease, winking at the friends part. She won't be taking a day off work all of a sudden to meet with ordinary friends; it's far-fetched.

Her facial eloquence gives me the sentiment that she has prepared herself for this question, even before I ask it. "Something of this sort," she smirks, eyeing me with the tip of her eye. "Just keep your nose out of it, and it'll work out."

Not sure whether her latter sentence is a joke or not, I choose not to ask. Laura is a tolerant friend of mine, we met at work, and we spontaneously grew close as we have too much in common.

Our first encounter was at the office's toilet, and we were fussing about the same things; perks of hating the same person. Girls always go to bathrooms in groups because there's a vital topic discussed there every time. It's out of my league, but cracking my bubble to ramble tendered me a friend.

I shoot her a death glare. "Whatever," I growl, wondering why she is this secretive about her love life.

Reaching my desk, I seize the documents needed for the meeting and adjust my attire. My desk is medium-sized, and the only one without a small flower pot at the side. The desktop screen has a lot of sticky notes glued to it with different tasks and events I want to remember.

I carry myself to the meeting room, and the atmosphere is so jittery like always. The large rectangular table has witnessed a lot of arguments, fake talks, presentations, and a toxic environment. The walls have a misty cafe colour with a world clock at the wall against the door. Twelve leather black chairs circled the table.

When I first started the job, the meetings that we propose new projects in intimidated me. Meanwhile, I suppose that I'm good at handling them. We will be presenting the project that I have been working on for three months now, so I'm moderately psyched.

At the head of the table, from the side that has only one leather chair, the fanciest, Mr Lawrence is sitting. Walking past him, the hair on my hands stands still in its place. Notwithstanding, I take my place between the marketing manager and the senior IT developer.

Every man in this meeting is wearing a black suit and a red tie. I've never understood men's coincidences. They always have agreements without agreeing upon anything in advance.

Jennifer, my co-worker, is also attending the meeting. She took a minor part in helping me with the project I'm about to present. She has an irritating grin on her face despite the stiff atmosphere. I have no clue what is happening in this room. She keeps looking at me shrewdly, then at Mr Lawrence. Hopefully, I wish this will also be some coincidence.

There seem to be numerous silent conversations between everyone in this room. I have always believed that work environments like this can hold more toxicity than labs. They say actions can speak louder than words, but in our case, a flash is more strident.

We're waiting for the sponsors to join us, and as soon as they arrive, the meeting commences.

After the basic greetings, I get up to present my project and to explain what it is all about, excitement filling my eyes. With the exception that, as soon as I get to my feet, Jennifer stands up too. Despite the misunderstanding, I don't mind it because she did help with scanty bits of the project.

Eventually, I'm arranging my thoughts and running the presentation slides on the smartboard screen to address the audience. Inadequately, Jennifer pops in, cutting the last string of my thoughts, moreover, starts spouting to the impatient crowd. "My project is an application-,"

"Our," I correct her swiftly.

Giving me a side glance and completely ignoring me, she continues, "As I was saying a moment ago before my colleague interrupts me, my application is about writing reviews on people." For a moment, I don't know what should I do. Everyone's attention diverts towards her, and I'm the odd one.

To my surprise, Mr Lawrence pushes her further despite knowing that this is my work, killing the goose that lays the golden egg. "Can you please demonstrate your idea?"

Her idea? That is probably a hoax. Her idea? Why is she trying to mislead the board, and Lawrence is supporting her? The rumours must be true.

As I cut him off, everyone seems to mark my presence again after she foreshadowed me. I repeat, fixing him as well. "My idea."

Since the faction is confused, they keep looking from Jennifer to me. Supposedly, some of them have seen my work on it, why aren't they helping me out? "Whatever," Jennifer hisses, snatching the document rudely from my hand.

In addition to that, she reassumes her speech, neglecting my interference. "Sure, Mr Lawrence. It's just the corresponding to reviewing products. You meet a person, let's say, X, and you are hesitant whether to approach them or not." She explains. "You log in with your account anonymously, and see what other people wrote about them."

"This is a very innovative idea indeed," the marketing manager exclaims, raising both eyebrows in astonishment.

Jennifer crosses both hands to her chest, "Thank you so much."

I glare at the marketer. These words of appreciation should be said to me, not her. "My idea," I reiterate, totally losing my temper.

Our manager finally determines to notice my presence. He warns, "Ms Elizabeth if you cannot keep your composure, I might dismiss you from the meeting for the company's sake."

Deep inside, I wish that this is one of my wildest dreams, but it appears to be very real. I've had problems at work, but nobody stole my work before. Why take someone's efforts and claim them as yours?

"Sir, this is my idea, my project, my code, and my application. You can't refute this," I burst, rendering everything. "You assigned Jennifer to help me with the testing process; to only help," I say, trying to be the most polished version of myself, yet sputtering inside.

He eyes me sceptically, moving his eyes from the paper in front of him. "What are you talking about?"

I am bristling with anger, and I am clueless about what to do. I have got nothing on my mind. Jennifer gives me an "I win" mocking smile, and the bomb explodes.

If things are messing up, let us mess it wholly. "We all know that you're here because you're having an affair with Mr Lawrence. You bought your way to our company. Keeping that bitchy face and attitude to get promotions-" I'm screeching at her face as I completely lost my temper.

Mr Lawrence doesn't seem to be enjoying himself either. He hits the glass on the table that it nearly broke. That is the straw that broke the camel's back. "The meeting is dismissed. Project dismissed." He barks, standing up with a furrowed eyebrow. "Elizabeth, in my office, NOW." He hollers, dashing by my side, almost dropping me off balance.

The atmosphere turns uneasy, and all eyes are accusingly looking at me. Talking and gossip overrun the office, and everyone is waiting on their nerves to know what this will lead me to. Every person inside and outside the meeting room is waiting on edge to know what will happen. Their eyes are shooting bullets of anxiety and curiosity at me. I march to Lawrence's place, gulping as all eyes are on me. What's the worst thing he could do?
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A/N: Hello, beautiful readers! What do you think of the first chapter? If you like it, please don't forget to comment and vote. What's the first letter of your name?