Thirty Seven

It was hard to walk with your head high when you know all eyes were on you, and they whispered about you. Some were confident enough to point their fingers at you. Amelia put her head down; she hadn't spent up to two weeks in her working place, and she was already the topic of gossip. It was annoying. This was not what she expected when she dreamed of freedom.

She forced herself to the office, but Florence was waiting at the door with a frown on her face. She folded her hand below her breast and glared at her with so much hatred; if looks could kill, Amelia was certain she would be dead by the way Florence was looking at her. When she got to the door, she tried to move inside but Florence blocked her.

"What's the meaning of this?" Amelia asked with gritted teeth.