Author's Note: No part of this may be copied or used in any way without the permission of purple-panda95.

Chapter One: Mondays Truly are Evil

I hate Mondays. Why can't the weekend last five days, and the week last two? I sighed. I was bored with my job. I worked at the Napa Valley Coffee Roasting Company. The name is such a mouthful too—even the shortened name is a little long—Napa Valley Coffee. I think I'm just sick of it. St. Helena is a little town in the northern part of California—emphasis on the "little." Anyways, I got up and jumped into the shower—not literally, of course—that would make me slip. I put on some clothes, and sat down again on my bed. I looked out the window. I just wanted to get out of here. It certainly was pretty, but a nice view can only keep you somewhere for so long. I've lived here my entire life. I yearned to be somewhere else. I didn't know where, but I knew I'd find somewhere I belonged. I mean, I had friends, but nothing was enough to keep me here.

Enough moping, I thought to myself. Self-pity is only entertaining for so long. I walked to my bathroom to brush my teeth. After, I went to the kitchen and started to scramble some eggs. I yawned.

"Sleepy?" my mom asked. I nodded. I still lived with my parents. We didn't have enough money for college, so I got a job at the town's best coffee house. "Me too. You're going to work today, right?"

I chuckled. "I wouldn't be up now if I wasn't," I answered.

She laughed, too. "It's only seven-thirty."

"It's earlier than I'd like to be up," I mumbled. She chuckled.

"Make some eggs for me, too, please," she said, walking out of the room—probably to get dressed. She had still been in her pajamas. I added a couple eggs to the frying pan and got out two plates and glasses. I set servings of eggs on the plates and set the plates on the table, then poured orange juice into both glasses.

Mom came back into the kitchen. "Thanks honey," she said, sitting down. I mhmmed and ate my breakfast. My mom and I didn't talk much over the meal. I rinsed my plate and set it in the sink.

"Bye, Mom," I said. She replied the same way. I grabbed my apron and climbed into my car. I drove off for Napa Valley Coffee. Please don't let Jonathan be there, I prayed silently. Jonathan was my boss, unfortunately. The girls who worked there hated him—at least, the ones who knew about his "hobby" did. That hobby would be sexually harassing the workers there. Thank God he hadn't actually done anything physical yet. A couple of us had confronted him about the looks and stares, but he insisted he "wouldn't treat a fellow Napa Valley Coffee employee that way." Right.

I pulled into the parking lot and quickly scanned it for what I hoped not to find…found it. Jonathan's car. He was at work. I sighed in disappointment, and grudgingly got out of my car. As I stepped into the building I was greeted by my least favorite person.

"Hey Sammy girl," Jonathan greeted, staring at something a little too low to be my face.

"Eyes up," I ordered. I saw his eyes move.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he denied. "I respect you, Sammy, and it hurts me to hear you think I would do something like that." I tried not to roll my eyes. I envisioned myself punching him in the face, as I had done many times before (unfortunately never outside of my head), blood squirting out of his nose. I opened my eyes to a smug look on his face, and walked behind the counter. I served a few customers, but it was a slow day, even for a town of just over six thousand people.

The day dragged on, but one o'clock finally came. I went into the storage room to grab my bag and set down my apron.

I heard the door close behind me. Probably the wind, I thought to myself. We always kept the front door open.

"Hey Sammy girl," Jonathan greeted. I felt a hand grab my ass. I envisioned myself punching him again. I opened my eyes. No—I had really punched him. He lay on the ground grabbing his now bleeding nose. The corner of my mouth twitched up. I ran out of the store. I calmly got into my car. Jonathan wouldn't report it to anyone. That son of a bitch knew I would win the case. I smiled smugly as I pulled out of the parking lot. That'll teach him to treat me that way. I drove to my friend's house. I knocked on the door.

She didn't answer. I knocked again. "Jenny," I called out. "Answer the door."

"Sam?" she asked from inside the house. Jenny opened the door. "Hey Sam, how've you been?"

"I punched him," I stated simply, but with triumph.


"I punched him," I repeated. "Jonathan."

She smiled. "Finally! He gets what he deserves—the little creep," she spat. "Come inside." I did as she said, and sat down on the couch in her living room. She sat across from me. "What happened?"

"I was putting my apron in the storage room, and he came in behind me and grabbed my ass," I began. "So I punched him. His nose started bleeding."

"Yeah!" she shouted. "This is gonna make a good story." I smiled. There was one other girl besides Jenny and me who hated Jonathan. Jenny's stomach rumbled. She giggled. "Sorry," she apologized. "I haven't eaten lunch. Do you want to go out?"

I nodded. "Sure. Where?"

She thought for a moment. "Let's go to A & W. I want one of their root beer floats." I nodded in agreement. We took her car, leaving mine in her driveway. As we drove, she asked me about punching Jonathan. Of course the drive didn't take long. Our town wasn't that big. We pulled into the A & W parking lot and walked inside to order.

"I still can't believe you had the guts to do it," she commented, both of us sitting down in a booth.

"Well I've had daydreams of punching him, and first I thought it was one of those, but I didn't come out of it, so I knew I had actually punched him," I admitted.

"Then you left?" she interrogated further. I nodded, trying to eat my food and talk at the same time without being impolite. She laughed. "Sorry, I'm just excited." I smiled.

We were really hungry, so most of the meal was eaten in silence, with only a few comments interrupting our chewing. Of course that shortened the length of the meal, so we were done quickly.

"Ready to leave?" Jenny asked. I nodded. "Then let's go." We picked up our trays and dumped them in the trashcan, then walked out the door.

"Whoa," Jenny said. "It's sunny." She laughed at her silliness. She opened her purse to grab her sunglasses.

I felt a hard blow to my side. "Ow!" I said, whirling around. A homeless man sprinted away from me. I took a quick glance at Jenny, the same confusion on her face. "Hey! Stop!" I shouted after him. "Come back here!"

He kept running down the block, so I chased after him. He led me down the block and down an alley into an old warehouse. We ran through the first floor. I didn't know where the hell he was going, or why he hit me, but I intended to find out.

I ran up a flight of stairs, trying not to slip in the puddles left by the rain. Who was this guy? I had been hit a couple times before, but it was only in a friendly way. Who did he think he was? You can't just hit people and expect them to be all right with it. I chased after him, but he was fast. If I lost him though, he giggled, and I would follow the sound. He ran ahead of me, looking back with what seemed like enjoyment. This was fun for him? He opened a door and ran into another room. I ran for the entrance.

"Hey!" someone called out. "Look out!" I turned my head around. A construction worker was waving an arm and pointing at something with the other. "Slow down!" he shouted. I turned around, but I was too late. He was pointing to the room that had a door, but was missing the floor. I couldn't slow down. I fell.