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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.
Men who had never even cast a glance in her direction before were outright leering at her now. Apparently, everyone thought she was the office whore. And some of the men thought it appropriate to whisper suggestive things to her as she passed by. They would pinch or pat her ass in the elevator and wink at her when she shot them a look. She resisted the urge to turn around and slap them, to scream in their faces, to give them a withering ear lashing. They would only throw her reputation back at her.
Then there were the notes. They were never ending. Every time she went back to her office, there one was. Many were similar to first one- calling her a slut and declaring that EM was not hers. She managed to shrug those off without it much effort. But whomever the sender was must have sensed their lack of impact and decided to get more pointed, more cruel. Almost threatening.
You stupid bitch. How many times do I have to tell you to back off? Elliott Michaels is not yours to throw yourself at. Don't think that just because you caught him in a weak moment and seduced him that it means anything at all. He would never want someone as stupid and wanton as you. Why won't you just quit already? You would do us all a favor for not having to see your slut face around here anymore.
Hannah could feel anxiety pulse like electricity underneath her skin. It was a constant, uneasy sensation that made her feel dizzy and unsteady.
Quit now or you are going to regret it.
She didn't know why she didn't just quit. Every aspect of her job was draining her of her sanity. EM was as demanding as ever, his hectic schedule a constant drain on her own mental capacities. And she had never really gotten over the night in her office.
Despite telling herself she wouldn't think about it, she would lay awake at night, clutching her pillow and replaying the whole event in her head for hours. It left her feeling unfulfilled and edgy. She was never the type of woman who was often overcome with sexual frustration. Her experience, the one time she let Sam pull off her clothes and fumble with teenage inexperience, she had felt such embarrassment and pain that she never thought she would ever want to do it again.
She had pretty successfully avoided all those pesky sensations until EM came charging into her life.
Why he was the exception was beyond her comprehension. She had met men, especially in college, who she had been much more attracted to. They were always charming with warm eyes and easy smiles. They had good senses of humor and boyish charm. She had never been attracted to the cold and distant types before- the law majors and pretentious art students. She had dated many who fit into her category and it had never gone much past heaving necking sessions on tiny college beds or in front seats of their cars.
Somehow, she had always lost interest before the guys would get too eager to get her into bed. Then there was Elliott Michaels who was everything she had never wanted who had her feeling things she forgot existed.
He just wants to use you. You're not unique. He has taken countless women like you into his bed. And every one of you lost their jobs. And everyone at this office knew why. Slut after slut. Don't delude yourself to think he thinks of you as anything else.
Her nights were getting longer. She would leave the office and go home to cry. What was keeping her there? The money? She looked around her apartment that she barely ever got to see anymore. She hadn't even used any of it. She worked most weekends running all the various errands for EM that she couldn't get to during work hours. She didn't have a bunch of new clothes or jewelry. Her furniture was as shabby as ever. Sure, it was nice to see the money piling up in her bank account. And she knew that if she quit, it would only get her so far and she wouldn't be eligible for unemployment again for a while. The money was important. There was no way to deny that. But there was something else and she didn't want to even explore what it was.
Where do you get off all high and mighty? Do you really think you are on the same level as him? He built a multi-million dollar company out of his own determination and guts. You make coffee and file his paperwork. You are the dirt beneath his feet. Hand in your letter of resignation before you regret staying.
She liked the challenge. She liked the idea that if she stayed in his good graces, she could expect to make an actual career out of her job. EM Corporation was known for giving exceptional workers better positions in time. If she stuck it out and proved herself, she could see herself being in a position of more power, making money she could only ever dream about.
Everyone here hates you. We all see you for what you are, a pathetic, weak, opportunist.
She liked, oh God, she liked EM. She never thought it would be possible but, as much as she loathed him at times, she admired him. She looked up to him. He was an exceptional example of what people were capable of if they set their mind to something and refused to let anything get in their way. She wanted to emulate that. She wanted to be able to look past all the naysayers spreading lies about her. She wanted to be able to hold her head high and let everyone there know that she was better than them, she wouldn't let them get her down. She knew that she was there by her own merit. She knew she was going places if she stuck with it.
It was absolutely not a factor that she was sexually attracted to him. That was over. It was a moment of weakness for both of them and she was never going to let that happen again.
You will never deserve him. You are not successful. You are not attractive. You are nothing.
Hannah felt a pang each time a letter came. She told herself she wouldn't. She told herself to not open the notes. But something inside her needed to know what it said. And despite knowing that they were written by an obviously jealous and unsound mind, it didn't stop the words from stinging somewhere deep inside of her where she constantly tried to keep her insecurity buried. She couldn't stop herself from identifying as the miserably pathetic person she was being painted out to be. It was hard to stay strong when ten or fifteen notes a day came screaming otherwise.
Sleeping was becoming more a hassle than ever before. Where she used to fall into the bed, utterly exhausted and pass out in five minutes, she lay awake for hours. Her restless mind would replay the words with painfully vivid recollection. After a while, she almost stopped sleeping altogether. She would fall asleep to nightmares that woke her before an hour would even pass. She was being stalked and followed. She was falling. She was being chased by a pack of feral dogs.
We will get you out of here one way or another.
Her body was starting to feel foreign to her. Sleep deprivation was making her feel detached from herself and everything around her. She drank coffee in excess to keep her functioning through the fog of exhaustion. It had her feeling jumpy and jittery. Food wasn't something she thought about. Beyond her knowledge that there was nothing wrong with her body, constant comments on her weight had obviously allowed body negativity to take root. If she ate anything from one day to the next, it was a lot.
She felt her clothes starting to hang loose.
