Heart In A Cage

53

Isabella

Take, scan, bag, repeat: the focal of my attention as I sort through large quantities of clothing and occasionally tap on my phone to find that only five minutes have passed. Usually, on days that aren't weighed down with the despair I've been stockpiling lately, working at the register and feigning interest to customers would feel like less of a duty.

Even if I want to be enthusiastic, I'm too drained to start off with a grand "Hey, how'd you go?" or genuine, big grin. That bright place of mine has been dimmed. For how long, I'm not sure. Just a small number of months and I'll finally―hopefully―push past these torturous emotions. My attack to them was decent. Anyone would consider tying up a handsome man with the potential to crush you with a single arm and tipping a bucket of water over him as decent. Fulfilling, even.

But all I washed away was that desire to rule his body for a short moment. Not any of that walloping heartache, or any of those miserable emotions.

The next time I check for the time, I sigh with relief and almost cradle my phone. It's 4:00pm, meaning shift's over. In a hurry, I quickly greet the next employees as they substitute themselves with the previous ones around the store, my purse collected from beneath the desk and hung over my shoulder.

Thinking that I can, at minimum, take a serene trip home, I bump into a long torso.

"Well hello, beautiful."

That word—beautiful—sounds disgusting on Jasper's rotten lips. I take in the overly formal button-up. Amusement flickers in his eyes. It must be exciting to share ownership with your ex's ex boyfriend. Fake boyfriend, sorry. My purse's leather strap gets too slippery; I'm holding on to it too tight, sweat coating my palms.

"Nice to see you," I grumble. "Was just leaving." Before I can move past him, he obstructs my path with his body. I back away and scoff. "Yes?"

"You're fired."

"What?! My employment isn't yours to decide. It's...Andreas'." Mentioning his name is a strike to the gut. More amusement glitters on Jasper's face.

"It's Dalia's decision." He crosses his arms, smirking as I shift in my spot. Dalia's not my boss. His claim is ridiculous.

"You're ridiculous."

"Your boyfriend has decided that operating a business isn't for him anymore. Now this business," he points his head towards Aressia, "is Dalia's to run. Unless you want to wait for her to arrive and directly tell you you're being sacked, I suggest you leave."

"Shut the fuck up, Jasper. I'm not in the mood of one of your jokes." A sweat works its way down my spine. I'm not finished here; I have four months of employment. But...Jasper is insinuating Andreas doesn't possess ownership of his own store. Of the store that is labelled with his last name.

"Ask him." He strolls past me and into Aressia like it's a prized possession of his. Hatred blazes in my chest. For so long...so long he'd been the centre of my mental agony.

Jasper is cruel, terrible. He's not going to get away from all the terrible deeds he's used to damage me. I'll tear him in half along with his auburn-headed witch of a girlfriend. Eventually.

But first, I need to go home and deal with a greater problem.

⚘

It might just be an illusion wound up by the gloomy contents of my ill head, but I swear, as I will each of my legs to step through endless flora, the garden seems more vibrant.

My arm grazes spherical bushes as I move through a narrow footpath that worms around the landscape, guiding its users to different sections of the garden. I stop before the thick birch and scale its height with my eyes, up to where the sunlight filters through its emerald leaves and dapples the concrete. I glance at my arms, at the inked leaves on them.