Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Maybe it was because she had grown up in a very small, close-knit town but there had never been much bullying. Everyone knew everyone and everyone's mother. No one would be able to get away with it. Of course people talked, perhaps more so because everyone had everyone else in common, but it never got to the point where it was downright malicious. Apparently, it had ill-prepared her for life in a big, bad city.
Around five that same afternoon, there was a knocking at her door from the main lobby. She mumbled a "come in" despite wishing for nothing more than to be alone. Tad popped his head in, his eyebrows furrowed.
"How ya doing?" he asked, closing the door quietly.
Hannah looked up at him, her face pale and tired. "Didn't you hear? I'm the goddamn whore of Babylon. And apparently business is really good."
Tad sighed deeply. He looked uncharacteristically solemn, sad. "I don't know what the hell is going on around here," he admitted, coming up to her desk and rubbing her shoulders. "It's never this bad. Whoever is fueling this must really hate you."
"For what?" Hannah exploded, spinning her chair around to face him. "I haven't done anything to anybody here! I've been nothing but nice to the ladies. And I almost never even speak to the men. I don't understand what I could have done to piss someone off so much."
Tad shrugged, perching himself on her desk. "Women are terrible sometimes. Maybe you smiled at her boyfriend or she's just jealous of you. Who knows really."
"And I'm chunky," Hannah mumbled, looking altogether mopey and sounding sorry for herself.
Tad scoffed, looking genuinely affronted. "Who said that?"
"That red-headed bitch from the fourth floor."
"Easy, tiger. The last thing you want is for it to circulate that you're talking crap about them now."
"Could it really get any worse, Tad?"
Tad jumped up suddenly, pulling Hannah out of her chair and enveloping her in his arms. "Listen to me, Hannah-Banana," he said, his chin resting on her head, "all of this is going to blow over if you don't play into their hands. I know it sucks right now. You're just gonna have to take it on the chin. Don't let anyone see that it is getting to you. They're like the lions. And you're the gazelle with a broken leg. You can't let them see your weakness or they are going to take you down."
Hannah nodded into Tad's chest, holding on as if her life depended on it. She didn't realize how badly she needed a hug, some comfort from someone who actually cared about her.
Tad let her go a moment later. Smiling at her, he playfully punched her on the chin. "You can take it," he said with a wink, kissed her forehead and left.
She heard the elevator chime as he left. EM was at a dinner meeting so Hannah went into his office to grab the coffee pot and take it to clean in the kitchen. The office was pleasantly quiet. With no one there to glare at her or whisper behind her back, she felt the hours of stress slowly melting away. She rolled her shoulders as she stood at the sink.
Tad was right. She had to get over it. So what if they talked? It wasn't true. She knew that. Tad knew that. What anyone else thought was irrelevant. She was there to get her job done, not make friends. And she certainly didn't want to be friends with anyone in the building after how they were acting anyway.
Hannah put the coffee pot away and walked back into her office. It was then that she noticed a note slipped under her door. With mounting dread, Hannah walked over and picked it up. She unfolded it to find a typed note with two lines:
Being a slut won't get you anywhere. HE'S NOT YOURS.
She felt her blood-pressure rise. She ripped the page into a hundred little pieces with shaking hands and threw it in the garbage. Hannah reminded herself not to take the bait, to not let it get to her. People did things like that to get under your skin. And if they got under your skin, then they won. She would be damned if she let some catty coworker get the better of her.
It did bother her, though, that someone was lurking around the office after hours and leaving ominous notes to her. Someone was in her personal office. Someone defaced her property. Hannah shook off the sensation, but couldn't get rid of the pit of dread in her stomach as she drove home that night.
–
She had tried to let positivity be her prevailing emotion, every morning giving herself a pep talk on the drive to work, convinced it had to get better eventually. Only it didn't. The sour looks from the women met her everywhere she went. The whispers became less concealed, more openly malicious. And then there were the men.