Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
"Quit. Please. Get some other job."
"I need this job." There weren't exactly a lot of overnight jobs that didn't involve taking your clothes off in front of strangers. I couldn't quit in the very off-chance that this was some sort of pointed attack, not some random act of violence.
"Tell me what I can do," Shep demanded, sounding small and defeated. I hated that for him. But I understood the feeling pretty well myself.
"Can I sleep in here tonight?" I asked, waving toward the couch. It was small and not overly comfortable, but I'd spent more than a few nights on it in the past.
"Of course you can," he said, and I could hear the defeat in his voice. Because, normally, he would offer to get me some food or tea or help me set up the couch. But he was barely able to do basic tasks for himself yet. He was far off from being able to help others.
"I'm just going to get cleaned up. I'll be right back."
Sleep was restless thanks mostly to my ribs that ached no matter how I tried to rest, but I'd managed to snag a couple hours before getting up to help Shep with his morning tasks, albeit a lot more slowly than usual.
The bruises had settled in to much darker shades of blue and purple overnight, leaving me staring at my reflection, dubious that the makeup would be able to even halfway cover them.
But I had to try.
Because I had to work.
It wasn't forever. I had to keep reminding myself that. The doctors were all optimistic about Shep making a nearly full recovery. He was going to get his leg cast off in another two weeks. And he would have to be in his back brace for a while longer. Then he'd needed some intensive physical therapy. He might always need to wear a smaller brace. He might always struggle with some lifelong pain. But he would be able to take care of himself. He would be able to go back to work.
Once Shep had his life back on track, I could work on getting mine back as well.
There was no way I was leaving the area now, though. Shep and I had grown apart the years we lived in different states, but all this time together had strengthened our bond. We were all we had. And I didn't want to lose that by moving away again.
So I would stay in the area.
But I would hopefully be able to quit the diner, and get a job in a bakery somewhere again. Then I could save up, move out, get everything back on track.
This was not for forever.
It was just for now.
I could get through it.
I had to.
There was no choice.
Sure, Shep was now bringing a little money in. He couldn't actually do any of the electrical jobs, obviously. But I'd just been able to convince him to talk to his partner, Glen, about handling some of the paperwork aspects.
That income would be enough, just barely, to keep the roof over our heads. My income paid the rest. And only if I was really careful and never missed a day of work.
So it didn't matter that I looked—and felt—like a human punching bag. It didn't matter that there was a knot of fear in my stomach. It didn't matter.
I had to work.
With that, I cursed my way through a shower, hissed my way through tying up my hair, then wrapping my ribs like Malcolm had suggested. And, finally, I started in on the makeup.
By the time I was done, the purple and blue was mostly gone even if the swelling was still noticeable. I went ahead and put on the eye patch mostly because I was hoping it would prevent people from asking about what happened. When people saw an eye patch, they didn't immediately think you'd been beaten.
I slipped into my work uniform, and made a good show of walking normally though the house, being cheerful, because I didn't want Shep to feel any worse than he already did, and then I made my way to work. With an eye-gouger and pepper spray in my apron pocket.
Honestly, I wasn't dreading work as much as I was dreading what I knew would come before work.
Namely, a confrontation with my boss.
Luis was, well, he was an asshole.
I didn't like to be so ungenerous about someone's character. I could usually find good things about everyone. But I'd been searching with a magnifying glass for a single decent quality to Luis since I'd started working for him. And, yeah, I hadn't found any.
Luis was one of those bosses who thought everyone was out to screw him over. He was also of the toxic mindset that "everyone is replaceable," so if you didn't like how he ran things "there's the door."