Somehow, things got even worse for me the next day.
My hand was still bandaged and it hurt to move. But that was not a reason enough for my manager to allow me to rest. According to her – I needed to earn my keep.
Since I had no money to pay for my food, she started to work me early. And that started with cleaning up the place even before anyone else came.
I would have protested, but my body was hungry and had no energy. I just wanted to eat, so I decided to work for now. But of course, my injury made working difficult for me.
The other staff slowly began to pour in, laughing and chatting. But as soon as they noticed me, they stopped speaking and just… looked at me. Their stare made me feel nervous but I showed none of my feelings on my face.
"Are you still not done? Ugh, how long are you going to take, newbie? Because of you, none of my staff can work. What are you going to do if we acquire losses because of you?"
The manager asked me as she came out from the back.
I knew she knew that I was working as fast and hard as I could. But since she did not like me and wanted to find faults with my work, she took none of it into consideration.
"Let it go, manager. You know girls like her – they get their job based on connections but don't actually know how to work. You might as well send her to do something else or we will be late as well."
Someone else spoke up and at first, it sounded like these words were said to help me out. But in truth, they were mocking me.
Others joined in the laugh as well, their eyes mocking me for being slow.
However, little did they know that my mental strength was stronger than they expected. I was not fazed by their bullying. I could handle the mental pressure just fine.
But even I was not strong enough to keep enduring the physical pain being inflicted on me..
As the day progressed, the other waitresses kept bumping into me and caused me to get small injuries.
None of them were as bad as the burn from yesterday, but the accumulation of all these small injuries was beginning to hurt now.
I had even strained my feet because someone tripped me and my step had just the slightest hint of a limp.
The day ended with me being even more injured than the last and somehow I could tell that this was just the beginning.
When I came in the next day, it started quite similarly with the verbal abuse. I endured it for the sake of getting some food. However, things changed around lunch time.
The manager rushed into the kitchen and grabbed my face to turn it around. She looked at the wound my cheek had and frowned.
"Why have you not covered this wound? Don't you know how to do makeup? Ugh, if you truly want to be ugly, then tell me. Here, I will give your face a make-over to match your hands-"
The manager picked up the pitcher of boiling water before she brought it near me. I wanted to move away, but I felt frozen in the palace. The pain-reducing medicine was causing me to become lethargic.
Just when the water was about to touch my face, someone grabbed the manager's hand, causing the boiling water to fall on her arm instead.
Damian appeared in front of me and he pushed the manager away to get to me.
"What the hell happened to your face… and your hand as well? Why are you injured?"
He asked, but his question was not addressed toward me. He was asking the manager what had happened here.
The manager flinched at his question, and she opened her mouth to clarify the situation. But no words escaped her mouth. She clutched her inured arm while looking at Damian.
Finally, she gathered the courage to speak up.
"Boss, just calm down. Jenna just injured herself while working. Accidents can happen anytime…."
"Accidents, huh? Is that a new word for harassment? Do you think my eyes are for decoration? And you—! Can't you stand up for yourself even a little? Why would you allow these fools to injure yourself like this?"
Damian sounded pissed as he finally let me go. I thought I was free, but Damian grabbed my hand soon after.
"Let's go. It's clear to me that I cannot leave you here alone, or you would just keep getting stepped on. It's better if you stay by my side for now. Coincidentally, I am also in need of your 'talent.'"
Damian sounded frustrated when he told me that. I could tell that he was forcing himself to speak. His voice also sounded torn.
"Boss, please-! I am the one who got badly burned. I need help as well-"
The manager tried to make the situation about herself, but Damian had already discarded her. He gave her not a single glance as he walked past her.
I followed him out, mainly because I knew I needed to be in his good grace if I wanted a shot at my revenge. He was my only lifeline here.
He dragged me all the way to his car and once again, I sat beside him, feeling uncomfortable at how close he was to me currently. I could even hear his breathing.
"Boss, where—"
"Just take me home for now. And ask my secretary to get some clothes that will fit her. She will be staying with me for some time."
"But boss, didn't you say… I understand. I will let your secretary know soon."
The man promised before he went back to driving.
I felt a little curious to know what they had been talking about because it felt like it involved me. But I had no standing to ask Damian anything. Especially when he was helping me out so much.
"Come, let's head in. My secretary will get you what you need. You can tell her what you might want once she's here."
I nodded and silently followed Damian inside.
As he led me, I could not help but notice how much taller and bigger he felt. It could be because I was in a younger and shorter body, but it felt like his attitude made Damian seem bigger than ever.
He had certainly grown up and even if I did not know him well in the past, I could say for certain that he had turned into a new man after my death.
'I wonder what happened to him to make him become like this?'
________
Damian's POV:
Watching her walk ahead of me, I could not ignore the bruises forming on her hand and the subtle limp in her step. My chest tightened. How had they treated her like this?
She was so small, so fragile, yet she carried herself with this stubborn grace—as if she refused to show how much the day's cruelty hurt her.
My Jenna had been strong. She was nothing like this pathetic, yet lovely girl in front of me. And yet, it was becoming more and more difficult for me to be able to separate the two in my mind.
I wanted to grab her and shield her from everything, from the mockery, from the burns, from the endless small injuries that seemed trivial to everyone else but were anything but.
Her face—still marked from yesterday's burn—was painfully familiar.
Not because it belonged to anyone I had loved, but because it looked too perfect, too delicate. Every sharp glance from her, every tremor of her hand, made something coil in my chest.
It reminded me that I had been the one who pushed her in this situation…and thinking about that hurt a lot.
And yet, she followed me without complaint, silently enduring, even as her body signaled exhaustion. I hated seeing her like this. Hated the helplessness, the way her vulnerability seemed to beg for protection she had no reason to expect from me.
I kept my hand close to her as we walked, not touching, just guarding. I could see her noticing me, the tiny, almost imperceptible signs—the way she stiffened when I got close, the way her eyes flickered toward mine.
God, she was so small. So human. And I was the only one who saw it. The only one who could do anything about it.
I was in love with another, my life belonged to another, so why was this small girl beginning to get more and more important to me?