Brea

The shrill sounds of sirens are what wake me. Reaching out and feeling the empty space beside me is what makes my eyes open. Groggily, I reach for my glasses that are perched on the bedside table. Sliding them up my nose, I blink up at the moonlight seeping in through the gap between the blinds.

The loudness of the city is not something out of the ordinary. I've just been especially restless lately. The crack of my bones echo around the room as I stand. I peer through the window, down to the busy street below. Red and blue lights flash through the darkness. A police car chasing a loud car with 'P' plates attached to the front and back.

Exhaling, I tap my phone screen. It brightens, telling me it is almost five a.m. A chill sweeps over my bones as I realise, yet again, Mitch has stayed out all night.

I search his contact and call. It rings a few times before abruptly going to the message bank. A dull ache pulses through the back of my eyes. The day hasn't even started and already I feel like a hot mess.

My morning run clears my head a little. There must be a dozen others out running the same track as me. The soft footfalls on the cement soothe me as I up my pace, wanting to push myself a little further than usual today, in attempt to release the stress building in my muscles.

I pass joggers, walkers, and girls carrying their shoes with messy hair, their high heels clutched in their palms. I smile as I pass them. I've been there. Plenty of times. Especially the few months after my mother passed. That was a rough time that I try not to think about. It is difficult when the only person you truly felt like yourself with was suddenly stolen from you in a brutal and abrupt way, such as she did. We were each other's rock and since her passing, I have felt like I'm stuck mid-float with no anchor in sight to keep me steady.

My mind races a mile a minute and I feel the intense sensation of an anxiety attack threatening to take over. I run harder and faster until I'm drenched in sweat and my lungs are burning.

This 'thing' with Mitch has been casual for so long now that if it was going to progress into something, it would have by now. I don't feel all that cut up about the situation, which is a message in itself.

I'm about to walk out the front door of my apartment when my phone rings. My heart drops to my feet when I see that it is an 'unknown caller' from Glendale. I'm frozen as I stare down at the phone.

Glendale. The small country town I grew up in and have tried not to think about for ten years. The place I thought was my home. Until it happened.

There's only two people it could be. My father, or my brother. I haven't spoken to either of them in years. Why are they calling me? And at this hour?

The phone rings out and I keep blinking down at it, my heart beating a painful, uneven rhythm. In the next second, a ding sounds, letting me know a voicemail was left. Swallowing, I click on the message, hovering my thumb over it before I lock the screen and shove the phone away.

My mind is reeling as I hurry down the hallway, and down the stairs. The sky is darkening with each moment and I mutter a curse when I feel droplets of rain splatter across my arm. The sidewalk is busy and packed with people—like me—hurrying to get their morning coffee before their workday commences. The click-clack of heels on the cement, the muttering of 'good morning', and the sound of leather shoes squeaking with each steps fills the air.

I'm out of breath by the time I shove through the door of the café. It's warm inside and I immediately discard my coat, flinging my hair back from my shoulders irritably. I scan the room, and to no surprise, Mitch isn't here.

I order our usual coffee before migrating towards a table near the window. I drop into the seat, my long blonde hair spilling across my face. The force of my breath blows the strands across my eyes.

As the minutes tick by, I scroll through my phone, checking my socials. I've finished my entire coffee and still no sign of Mitch. Now, I'm in an even worse mood.

I grip his untouched coffee so hard that the lid pops off. The hot liquid spills over the edge, burning my fingers. Grumbling, I toss it into the closest bin and stride into work with a look of fury etched onto my face.

When I get to his office, our co-worker, Belinda—'Linny' for short, which I think is really fucking stupid—is nestled between his legs as she leans towards him flirtatiously. An easy grin is spread across the face that was only hovering above me the night before last, telling me how beautiful he thought I was. The only time he ever gave me a compliment was when he was inside me.

I purposely hit the door on my way past so that it bangs harshly against the wall. Linny startles, throwing herself out of his lap when she registers the scowl on my face.

"Good morning, Brea," she quickly mumbles, hightailing out of Mitch's office, the heavy musk of her perfume washing over me as she does.

"Hi baby," Mitch says, acting as though having another woman between his legs when he was supposed to be with me is not something to be acknowledged. "You wear these just for me?"

I furrow my brows, until I realise I forgot to put my contacts in. God damn it. I have never worn my glasses to the office. Especially since Mitch always says they make me look like a Librarian in the beginning of a p*rnography video.

"Fuck you." I spit at him, everything I had planned to say flying out the window as rage bulldozes through me with vengeance.

A crease appears between his brows as he looks painfully confused for a moment before his face falls.

"Coffee! Shit! I totally forgot."

"You made the plans literally thirty minutes prior to the meet up. How the fuck are you that brain dead to forget that?" A scoff leaves him at my insult. "What? Too much c*caine and molly in your system to remember you have a girlfriend, too?"

"Keep your voice down!" Mitch hisses, jumping to his feet and swiftly closing the door, casting a nervous look over his shoulder down the hallway. Usually, I'm much more careful of how I act and what I say when I'm at work, but all rationale has apparently abandoned me.

"Don't bother closing the door, I'm not planning to stay."

"Don't be dramatic," he rolls his eyes, doing the classic Mitch move of making it seem like I'm crazy. He's exceptional at that. He reaches out, his fingers skimming down my arm. I recoil from his touch.

"You don't get to not come home last night, stand me up, flirt with another woman, and still touch me."

Letting go, he steps back, having the audacity to laugh. "Yeah. Righto. Where's my coffee, by the way?"

My hand strikes across his cheek so fast, I hear the slap of my skin hitting his before I register what I did. He stumbles back in shock, a red welt immediately appearing on his pale skin.

Shock battles with rage on his face as he glares at me, holding his cheek.

"In case you didn't get the memo, we're done," I hiss through my teeth, feeling my hands tremble.

The door slams behind me as I march down the hall, ignoring the curious stares of the other workers around me. When I'm at my desk, I sink into the seat, my head in my hands.

This is a lot to happen before 8 a.m.

A knock on my office door draws me out of my thoughts. Ronan, the CEO and biggest douchebag of the century, stands there, his wide shoulders almost filling the entire perimeter of the doorway.

"I need those reports." He says, not looking up from his phone.

"Good morning to you," I automatically say as his words sink into my brain. My insides tense, and I squeeze my eyes shut. "Oh, fuck."

With everything that happened this morning, I completely forgot to grab the reports that are needed for the meeting.

He lifts his eyes, pinning with me his gaze. "Don't say you don't have them."

Gulping, I give him my most charming smile I can muster. "Oops?"

The silence is thick and suffocating as he glares down his nose at me.

"You have twenty minutes to get them on my desk, or you're done here."

The air leaves my lungs. Before I get a chance to form a sentence, the door is slammed so hard that it rattles on its hinges. I scramble to my feet and race out the door like my life depended on it.

In a way, it does.

An hour later, I'm in my car, crying off all the makeup I spent an hour painting on my face. I managed to lose my job and my boyfriend in one day. Awesome.

Exhaling a heavy breath, I wipe away the tears, wrap up the sandwich, and clear my throat, trying to centre myself. I pull out my phone and check the message that's been pressing on my mind ever since I got the call.

"Brea." Goose bumps scatter across my skin and I close my eyes, resting my head back. My brother's voice may be deeper and rougher than it was a few years ago, but I would know it from anywhere. "Dad had an accident." There's a weighted silence. My blood roars in my ears. "It's time for you to come home."

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I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. What are you currently reading? :)