Following the mayhem of last week, I find myself completely overwhelmed once Monday arrives all too quickly. I feel like I barely had a weekend, nevertheless a weekend I had needed so desperately not only to recover from the stresses of work but the emotional burden of ending my relationship with Derek and more. Instead, I had more and more time taken up by obligations with my sister which weren't exactly ideal. Now, as I enter the building of my work I find myself no more relaxed than before and completely consumed with fatigue.

It wasn't exactly any help that I also seemed to have come down with some kind of stomach bug or food poisoning. In the early hours of Sunday morning, after I had finally fallen asleep following our energy consuming dinner and a long day, I was awoken by a crippling pain that rivalled that of the cramps I would receive each month when mother nature decided to invade me with her wrath of torture.

As the agony continued to tear through me, I moved forward in the confines of my bed to try and suppress the pain through various positions only for a sickly bubbling to begin to formulate within the depths of my stomach. It was at that moment that I knew I would be paying a visit to the toilet if I was lucky or, more realistically, to the bin in the corner of my room at this point. By some miracle I did indeed reach the toilet where I crumpled forward just as I reached it with what feels like all of my organs rushing out of me along with some other unpleasant things.

I couldn't help but hope it wasn't food poisoning from the food earlier that night. I actually liked that place.

Once I think the complete disarray of my insides has calmed down, I seem to collapse onto the bathroom floor, the cool temperature of the tiles acting as a form of relief to the heat that had been building up within me.

After a few more instances of retching and what I seem to recall as a short nap on the floor beside the toilet, I finally returned to the snug confines of my bed. With my temperature constantly fluctuating alongside my instances of queasiness, I struggled to keep up with the desired surroundings of my body. One second I would smother myself with layers, the next I'd be kicking them all off. It seemed thought that my body finally reached a decision at at around 3:30am, as I settled under three blankets with my bin nestled under my chin as a precaution- my bed seeming like a haven in that instance.

As the night continued a combined sense of sickness and paranoia kept me awake for many hours, leaving me worn out for the rest of the Sunday. The same illness would overwhelm when night came again and would keep me awake, resulting in what was clearly a severely exhausted Ella Adams having to appear at work. Once I am at work and have to ride the elevator up to my required level, I am confronted with my less-than desirable appearance in the mirror of the elevator. I feel myself crawl further into the corner of the packed elevator, increasingly embarrassed.

My hair is in a disarray, with it clearly in need of a brush to eliminate the new level of frizziness that had invaded it. I had also made the wrong choice of grabbing what I perceived at the moment to be the best clean and fashionable choice of shirt this morning, now realising that it was indeed a very creased plain white button-up shirt screaming out in need of an iron. Thankfully, my black pencil skirt obscures the bottom half of the blouse which appears to be the most intensely deprived of a good ironing. The grey wool blend coat which I had slipped on quickly on my way out of my apartment this morning also aids the hiding of the creases and adds a much needed sense of professionalism, alongside my pointed toe, soft suede-effect black stiletto heels, that my appearance seemed to be lacking.

Unfortunately, my attempts of makeup in the short amount of time I had left myself with this morning were not successful in concealing my fatigue. The dark circles which now rested in the hollows under my eyes were barely covered with my concealer, the intense mixture of grey and purple peeking through the thin, translucent cover of the makeup. I also seemed to neglect the quite obvious line where my concealer and foundation, if I did actually get around to putting it on, seemed to end abruptly across my face, having failed to blend it in properly. I had attempted to distract any attention on this neglect by adding some black eyeliner which didn't seem to help at all.

Thankfully, the chime of the elevator reaching my desired floor is able to tear me away from my reflection which seemed to be worse the longer I looked at it, saving me from my own harsh scrutiny. I push past the other people in the elevator and attempt to rush over to my desk where it sits outside the looming glass walls of my boss, Monique's, office so as to reach my spot of hiding sooner. Thankfully, I don't bump into any one of my co-workers wanting to talk or needing anything and am able to isolate myself behind the meagre perimeter of my work space.

Ten minutes pass and I remain uninterrupted, leaving me to get straight into my work for today. I hope that I can get through the urgent matters quickly, rush to the toilets quickly to fix my appearance up and get back before Monique arrives along with her tirade ready to pounce on my shoulders. I am just finishing going over her schedule one last time and organising all that she would need for today when the attention I was so dreading inevitably arrives.

"Ella!" someone chirps as they arrive by my side. I look to find that it is thankfully not Monique or some irritating co-worker but instead someone I was fond of, Chloe Chang. Chloe was a beautifully bubbly individual I met in my first few days of working for Monique. She had only recently started working for the magazine as an assistant too so we bonded over our mutual inexperience and she showed me the ropes of what she had learnt so far. Just over a year later and we had both finally settled in and our desks were only metres away from each other, able to catch up whenever we had the chance and call on one another if we ever needed to.

Unlike myself, Chloe always seemed to have herself put together nicely, always in a quirky or preppy outfit with her glossy raven hair in its short layered waves and ready to launch herself into the day. Maybe it was the additional three years she had over me in age or her previous administrative job, but she seemed to have all this life knowledge and experience behind those warm almond shaped eyes of hers. Best of all, she always seemed to go through life free of judgement- always happy to help and possessing a remarkable sense of empathy that quickly made her a favourite of mine. This was a trait I deeply needed on a morning like this.

Once I have completely turned in my chair to look upon Chloe, with a look of hopelessness I am unable to prevent, she is able to fully survey my appearance, instantly recognising how it is tainted with fatigue and ailment. Her eyes are widened with shock and sympathy as she says to me, "Oh Ella, are you okay hun?". I don't know whether to be dismayed that my sickness is so easily identifiable or grateful for the sympathy I am now receiving.

"I've been better," I reply with what is my best attempt at humour at a time like this.

"I'd hug you but I really don't have the time to catch whatever you seem to have," she tells me, giving me a consoling slight smile dripping with a side of pity, "What's wrong?".

"I honestly have no idea. Not sure if I've caught a stomach bug or got food poisoning. It might be the latter since it kicked in shortly after I went out for dinner." I explain to her.

"Do you know if anyone else you had dinner with got sick too?" she asks me, detective Chloe kicking in. I simply shake my head in response to convey my lack of awareness, with Lexi not showing any signs of sickness from what I had seen and not knowing about the state of Damon and Theodore.

"Hey, if there is one good thing that I've picked up from all of this it's that you went out for dinner. You going out and treating yourself to a spontaneous night of socialising isn't something that happens much." she teases, prompting me to respond with a raise of my eyebrows alongside an unpreventable smile and soft slap of her arm.

"And this is what I get for it," I reply, highlighting the evidence that I should have just remained my usual reclusive self rather than going out that night. "I am so sleep deprived right now that somehow I let myself leave the house looking like this-," I say motioning to the barb wire-like state of my hair, "- like a three year old did my hair and makeup."

"If you want I've got some hair and makeup supplies in my bag that I could lend you, if you really feel that bad." Chloe offers, upgrading her role from best work friend to my saviour for the day.

I quickly take advantage of the opportunity and in moments I am rushing off to the women's room with Chloe's makeup in tow, ready to make myself somewhat presentable. Once I reach the women's room, which is fortunately empty so that I can avoid the demeaning watch of the other females in this office, I am like a soldier in action- ready to strike with my weapons of cosmetics so as to eliminate the traces of fatigue which had invaded me today.

By the end of my visit to the restroom I am successfully able to look at my reflection in the mirror and say that I do not look like a complete mess, a substantial difference to what I had staring back at me in the elevator mirror not so long ago. I had finally brushed my hair, added a bit more concealer under my eyes and blended my makeup a bit better, and tucked in my top a little better, among other things. Once my makeover is complete I am quick to return back to my desk and give Chloe her makeup supplies back whilst thanking her again, wanting to be back in my required position before Monique was to arrive.

Monique hasn't seemed to have arrived so Chloe goes to start talking with me but suddenly cuts herself off. It appears I have spoken too soon as I turn my head in the direction where Chloe's halted expression had turned only to find Monique walking my way, having just exited the elevator, back straight and head held high. Chloe scurries off at the sight of her and once she arrives at her desk gives me a slight smile, mouthing to me 'good luck'.

Once I turn back to await Monique's arrival at my desk I am triggered by her immediate proximity to me, not realising how quickly she had walked over and how I will need to mentally prepare myself for what would presumably be a tiring day. As she takes her last steps towards me I attempt to compose myself, feeling a bit more more confident after my quick do over in the restroom. However, I could look like I was dying or like I had just had my hair and makeup done professionally and Monique would most likely still look at me with that same look of judgement and superiority that she does oh-so-well.

Monique seemed to be the epitome of what it would be like if a barbie and a robot had a child. She had perfectly glossy platinum blonde hair which was always sleek and ended just above her shoulders in a sharp bob. The clothes she wore seemed to ooze opulence and sophistication, her wardrobe most likely worth more than everything I owned. Today she wore a white blazer, tightly clinched around her waist with a black bow on top of her black leather pencil skirt. Her matching black pumps were of course red bottoms, and the oversized sunglasses and handbag which adorned her were of course designer brands too. She was the prime example of power and poise, an intimidating figure wherever she went and an inspiration to all females especially in the media industry.

"Good morning, Monique." I greet her, attempting to get on her good side this morning like I try every morning with a tone that possesses the precise level of enthusiasm so that it doesn't irritate her with my chirpiness but also doesn't convey a sense of disregard.

"Hello, Miss Adams. We have a busy day ahead of us so I hope you're prepared for it." she warns me, not exactly telling me anything new compared to any of our other days together.

It was a rare sight to see me leaving before 5pm so I was adept at dealing with the long hours and immense workload. Thank goodness I was actually receiving a sufficient enough amount of income for the job, plus I knew that this job was ideal if I wanted to put my foot in to the media world.

"I'm going to need you to be by my side a lot to help prepare for an interview for the upcoming end of year issues." she tells me, reminding me of the chaos which had overwhelmed us within these office walls as the upcoming exclusive issues came looming around the corner.

Each year we would organise these special issues, like many other magazines, which would celebrate the biggest events and figures of the year across society. Each magazine under our control- big, small, online, on paper- would have a similar issue. Every day now was interview after interview, photoshoot after photoshoot, with me having to run around and organise everything for Monique each time. Don't get me wrong, of course I enjoyed having these important figures coming in and out of the office. I would forever be grateful to have the opportunity to be in their presence and have a chance to interact with them. But while everyone else was getting to the time of the year when they would start to slack off and plan their winter holidays, I was stuck with more work than ever without any break in sight.

"One of our last minute interviewees was meant to come in at a later date but was able to come in sooner so we've moved it up. I need things to be ready for the interview and photoshoot to take place in an hour or two." she reveals to me, instantly making my day worse than I could have possibly foreseen.

It was difficult to organise everything as it was with so much going on at the moment and some people already having left for their holidays. Giving me such short notice was not exactly helping the situation. However, I couldn't deny that I was curious and anticipating whichever important figure was coming in today.

"No problem, Monique." I respond, ever the diligent assistant. I watch as she walks away in the direction of her office, her high heels clicking against the tiled floor as she strutted. As she did so, I sighed with relief knowing that I would get a minor break from her scrutiny before having to spend an extended time by her side.

Unfortunately, I spoke to soon because just as I had turned to pull out all that I would need for today she seemed to stop and turn back to my desk.

"Oh, before I forget, I'm going to need you to tell you who our interviewee is so you can pull out all the information you can on them since it's all very last minute." she says to me, clearly irritated by the disorganised nature of the situation. My eyes shift between her and my desktop with them wide open in anticipation and my fingers resting on my keyboard ready to type.

"He's an upcoming figure in the business world so he'll be in the finance and business online magazine. Write this down and find whatever you can on him. His name is Theodore Harrington, Elizabella." she reveals to me, making my body drop instantly and stomach stir once again.

Just as I thought this day couldn't get any worse it seemed that life had come and run me over with its figurative car, tearing me down each time I thought that I would be getting back up.

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