"So many people suffer from abuse, and suffer alone." - Pamela Stephenson

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Caden's POV

"Good morning, Cole," I say groggily as I walk into the kitchen. My back still aches from last night but I ignore the pain as I make some coffee for myself.

My face searches for him until I finally see him passed out on the couch, a dozen empty beer bottles scattered across the coffee table.

I sigh. I check to see the discarded empty box of Corona which tells me that I need to go to the store and buy some more. If we even have enough to afford more beer.

I gather the beer bottles from the coffee table and discard them in the bin, the sound of shattering glass hitting me like a brick. I wince, but it's too late. Tears prick my eyes and I can feel my chest tightening.

Suddenly, I hear a groan. Great, he's awake.

"Good morning," I chirp, hoping that my voice sounds natural.

He turns to me with a blank expression until eventually he says, "Hi." His voice is laced with exhaustion and his eyes hang from his hangover. Dark circles are painted underneath his eyes.

He shouldn't be looking like this. Cole is only 25 years old but right now, it looks like he's aged ten years. His hair is ruffled, his eyes are bloodshot, and his skin looks grey and dull.

"I'm about to head to a job interview," I say, hoping for some words of encouragement.

"Whatever," he replies, laying back on the couch.

A pang of hurt cuts across my chest but I ignore it. I've gotten used to this Cole. The closed off, mean, jerky Cole. It's been a while since I've seen the old him. And I don't know when he's coming back.

"Buy some more beer on your way home," he adds before I leave. I roll my eyes, and don't respond, instead closing the creaking door of our small apartment complex and making my way to the bus stop.

"Good morning, Agnes." I sit next to the small, frail, old woman on the bench who always accompanies me while we wait for the bus.

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Agatha Krepps played by Olivia de Havilland (RIP)

93 years old

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She is the sweetest old lady ever. She lives at the other apartment complex across from us, and everyday, since we've moved here, she always sit next to me on the bench, and talks about our day. She never actually goes on the bus, which admittedly, bamboozled my mind, but I think she'll one day join me.

"Good morning, sweat bean." She beams when she sees me and I sit next to her, grasping her hand into mine.

I love that nickname. She says she used to call her grandson that. She always refers to him in past tense which makes me think he's not with us anymore. But I don't ask about him. I just let her talk about him to me. For some reason, it calms me when she talks about her family. It allows me to escape my broken one.

"How you been?"

I shrug, not wanting to think about Cole, and the fact that we are three months past our rent and going to be living on the streets in a few days.

Instead, I say, "I have a job interview!" My face breaks into a huge grin.

So far, the only jobs I've managed to get is as a waitress at a local diner. The pay is horrible, but no other job would accept a girl with a record like mine.

"Oh, that's great sweetie," she says, her grin going wider. "What will you do?"

"I heard this girl talking about a new job opening as a personal assistant for some rich people. The job's pretty easy. Make coffee, schedule dinners, clean up their offices after work," I explain.

From what the girl said, these people are top notch. Since I don't have a phone, I went to the public library and searched up the company and the job offering.

"What company is it? "Agnes asks.

"It's called Sander Corporation. It's a really big company and I would be assisting the three CEOs which I heard are all brothers." My heart beats faster thinking about it. I really hope I don't screw up.

Since I don't have that much work experience, I don't really have any 'professional' looking outfits so I settled for one of my favorite dresses of all time. It's a short, flowy white beach dress with embroidery laced throughout the dress, and an empire waistline. It belonged to my mom. She owned a local clothing store before she died and I used to be her model whenever she designed new dresses.

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After the accident, we had to sell her business, although I tried to keep as my dresses as I could. However, if this job goes south, I may have to sell some of her dresses to afford rent.

I'm really hoping the CEOs don't consider me because of my clothing. Maybe they'll appreciate my standing out.

"Oh, that's nice dear." We fall into a comfortable silence as Agnes rests her head on my shoulder, her brown sugar scent reaches my nostrils. Agnes likes to bake a lot.

Sometimes, she'll bring me a batch of her baked goods and we'll share them together or I'll save some for Cole. If he's not too busy drowning himself in beer.

I swing my legs, my 5'3 height giving me plenty of distance from the ground.

The bus eventually comes and I bid Agnes goodbye as I settle myself onto the chair in the back, not wanting to meet the eyes of strangers as they board the bus.

One time, a creepy looking man, I know that sounds mean, but believe me when I say the guy was weird beyond belief, sat next to me because "there were no more available seats" when the bus was clearly half empty.

For ten minutes, I had to endure his burning gaze and retching smell, which consisted of cigarettes and pee.

Ever since then, I always sit at the back of the bus, and I try to have a handbag or backpack on me to put it on the seat next to me so no one else will sit there.

Okay, obviously, if the bus really is full, I'll let someone else use the seat, but you know what I mean.

Sorry. I know I'm babbling. it's just, I'm SO nervous for this interview.

The pay is better than any job I've ever worked at but the thing that keeps racing my heart is my record. These guys are top-notch, and I'm not naïve enough to think that they'll overlook that but I'm really hoping that the universe is in my favor, because I'm not exaggerating when I say I NEED this job.

Our deadline for the rent expires on Wednesday, and I sincerely doubt that guilt-tripping our crabby landlord will do us any good anymore.

Cole once suggested to seduce him, which I quickly turned down. He really wasn't happy about that and I paid the price later that night.

So, it is either this job, or we go to a homeless shelter.

I NEED this job.

When I finally arrive at the Sander Headquarters, my heart is beating erratically.

I enter through the lobby and find myself in front of the front desk. "Hi, I'm here for the job opening for the personal assistant," I ask politely.

The woman doesn't look my way. She just grabs a sticky note glued to her computer and shoos me away.

Well, that was rude.

The paper reads, "50th floor, turn left, and wait."

I shrug and go to the elevator and make myself up to the 50th floor.

When the elevator door opens, I see at least fifty people waiting, all wearing really fancy clothes and carrying official looking briefcases.

No one told me about briefcases.

I had only brought with me my resume, that I created in high school, and my ID.

Oh no.

A woman greets me and shakes my hand, saying "Hello, just please wait right over there, and we'll be with you in a moment."

I seat myself in a really comfortable looking chair and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Most people that come out the doors are either fuming or crying, which is not helping my nerves.

Finally, a man steps out of the door and calls out, "Caden Wilson?"

I get up from my chair, wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs and smile. Here goes nothing.

"Hello Ms. Wilson, come on in." The man looks really nice, with clear white teeth, and glasses framing his face. I smile at him, which he returns.

I am now in a room with three other men, all sitting at different work tables.

They stare at me with a fixed concentration that makes me squirm.

They all look very handsome, I will say.

My eyes shift to the three handsome gentlemen and I feel myself getting dizzy. Which one do you look at?

I hear a chuckle behind me. "You'll get used to it," the kind man tells me and my eyes widen. Did I just say that out loud?

"My name is Mathew, by the way." He holds out his hand and I shake it, but my eyes keep darting back to the men behind him, who are all still staring at me.

He gestures to the back of him and introduces them.

"These not-so-kind gentlemen are the CEOs of Sanders Corporation." He gestures to his left. "Sawyer," he gestures to his right, "Sage," and finally to the middle, "Silas Sanders."

I'm assuming Silas is the oldest of the trio because he looks the most scary. He has dark, curly hair ruffles on his head along with a pair of intoxicating lapis blue irises. His tall frame dominates my petite figure, even when he's sitting down.

"Please take a seat Ms. Wilson." He ushers me to the chair right in front of Silas, and his eyes are still burning into my skull. Why does he keep looking at me?

His eyes flicker for a second and my heart stop. Please don't tell me you heard that?

But then, he changes his direction to Mathew, which makes me relieve a silent breath.

"So, Ms. Wilson," I turn to my left. "I am wondering why you applied for this job. It says here, the only work experience you have is a waitressing job at a 'Little Diners.'"

Sawyer, I believe, looks back from my resume, and straight into my eyes. Sawyer has strong eyes with piecing blue eyes just like his brother. He stares at me blankly but I feel a coldness run down me as he surveys my outfit. Maybe I shouldn't have worn this.

My mouth goes dry for a second before I sober up.

"Well, yes that is true. But I assure you, my skills are beyond what my resume says. Um, it's just that-" I am cut off by someone at my left, which is Sage.

"Your record is pretty loaded, though, which is why I'm assuming, you're having difficulty finding a job. 'Breaking and entering, grand larceny, car theft.'" I turn to him, and he stares back at me. He looks the youngest of the three, with peach-colored skin and glasses that frame his like colored eyes. Weirdly enough, Sage looks the least like his brothers, with dirty blond hair, and sky blue eyes, contrasting with Silas's sapphire ones.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat.

Okay, maybe a teensy tiny part of me was hoping they wouldn't have brought that up.

"Um, yes well, I was very rebellious as a child, and um, I know that it sounds bad, but I have changed and I-"

Another voice cuts me off, this time, from the man sitting in front of me. "This is a waste of time. You don't have the job," he says dismissing me.

"But sir-"

"I don't care, now get out." He points to the door. I can feel my heart falling but I am not backing down without a fight.

"Look, I know I don't have experience and you probably think I'm some lowlife who will steal from you, but I'm not. Just give me a chance.. a trial, to prove that I can do this and then discard me if you don't deem me fit."

Silence follows. A very, VERY awkward silence. "Well, I can also make some pretty good coffee," I say to myself. In my head. I hope.

I look up at the man who is now standing, towering over me.

"Please escort Ms. Wilson out of here, Mathew," he says in an eerily calm tone. His face is unreadable but his eyes are fuming. He looks at me with disgust before sitting back down and opening his laptop.

My heart drops and I can feel tears welling in my eyes as Mathew escorts me out. "I'm really sorry."

I don't respond. I wordlessly exit the building and make my way to the side of the building where I crumble on the concrete, tears streaming down my face.

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