The wind whipped and whistled fiercely outside my bedroom window, whispering desperate wishes in my ears, laughing wildly and madly at me, mocking me, as I lay with my eyes squeezed shut amongst the wrecked bedding, tangled sheets, and wiry pillows willing myself to go to sleep, if not for only an hour, before I am forced up and into the winter day where I will be expected to be alive, but instead I will wander wearily through the halls with few words and less will than ever as I withdraw farther and farther down into myself, wanting the voices to go away, watching for signs and waiting for the end of the final day when the worry and wonder will subside and be replaced by white clouds and bright lights – what will it be like when I get there, as this world we live in is cruel as witnessed by so many others like me who only want one more chance to escape the pain before wilting like a dried up flower long forgotten and neglected by society, washed into the gutters like polluted rainwater, and swept under the worn rugs by those around us who only want to forget that we are real people too.

I awake in my ripped red vinyl Lazy Boy recliner, thin upper lip busted wide, open breath smelling of day old blood, my body too pained to move, legs contorted under me as if I had no bones, my arm ringed with yellow, purple and blue bruises as if a constrictor had wound his way up and around my arm gripping it for dear life, looking out the red rusted window pane as raindrops the size of peanut M&Ms splash against the window like God is crying a deep cry from the bottom of his gut as the world spirals out of control – even his control – while across the sun kissed, sandy desert dirty men with sunken faces and matted black beards as long as father time shoot riffles at each other, and now at my brother, bullets piercing skin and slicing bodies wide open with jagged wounds, as blood red as bricks gushes into the blinding daylight, briefly pooling then sinking into the soft sand, drying black as night where men lie crumpled in heaps like rag dolls in a little girl’s toy box, and I think why me.

Jayne was one of the most self-centered, arrogant, crass people I hve ever encountered. She could not open her mouth without her high-pitched, whiny voice grating on every last nerve in my body. She spoke in a pitch worse than fingernails being drawn down a chalkboard. It made every hair on the top of my head stand on end every time she spoke.

I first encountered Jayne while waiting in line at Starbucks for my usual Monday morning pick me up nonfat double soy latté. She was yapping loudly on her cell phone oblivious of the fact that the fifteen other people in the store where shooting her looks of death. By the time I had cycled through the line, ordered and gathered for my drink – five minutes, tops – I knew every detail of Jayne’s weekend, including the fact that she had hot sex with some guy she picked up at a club Friday night. And now she can’t even remember his name.

I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

I was running a little late, rushed into my building and into the elevator about five minutes after nine. Safely inside the elevator I knew I was home free and I punched the button to the fifth floor. The elevator doors were almost closed when I saw a two well manicured fingers appear through the narrowing crack between the doors and heard a voice yell “Wait! Hold the door! I’m late!”

I hate sharing elevators. I always know I will have a good day when I enter the elevator and realize I have the whole thing to myself. Annoyed, I pushed the door open button on the elevator and silently wondered why that voice sounded vaguely familiar.

Two seconds later the elevator doors were completely open and there stood Jayne holding a venti cup of coffee, cell phone still glued to the side of her head. Just when I thought I was going to have a good day, my hopes were dashed into the river of despair.

Oh, well, it is just a short ride and then I will be through with this annoyance and waste of breath once and for all. The doors opened on the fifth floor, and I took a deep breath, refocused, and vowed to get my week off to a good start – once again. I rushed out of the elevator and down the hall where I closed the door to my office behind me. I could still hear that voice yammering in my head. Where was it coming from? What a dreadful woman.

No sooner had I taken off my coat, dropped my briefcase, and turned on my computer, than I heard a knock on my door, shortly followed by the entrance of the company’s human resources manager smiling broadly and exclaiming,

“Meet your new assistant – Jayne!”