Chapter Four

Perhaps I worked too hard. Working too hard and overdoing isn't exactly a great outcome.

Eye on the screen, and there was nothing. No messages, no callbacks.

But working hard is what I do. I've worked hard all my life. Doesn't she like me for who I am?

He clenched his bed sheets in frustration after setting his phone out in front of him. It was exhausting. It was just too exhausting to wait and wonder.

Perhaps I went too fast. I went too fast. I went too fast.

He shut his eye and tried to calm himself. There was no use in panicking. Besides, Celia was worth thinking about and wondering about. What had gone wrong?

No, she hinted I was too slow. She wanted me to ask her out. Mike wasn't going to give up so easily. Even if something was bothering Celia, he wasn't going to bother her by calling her back. Giving her the night and asking her the next morning would be the next option.

He opened his eye in full confidence. He was always determined, no matter what his goal was. Even if he was a bit apprehensive, he wasn't going to let this get him worked up.

Mike shut off his lamp and lay back down in his bed. He had no idea what time it was. He didn't check his phone, but he was suddenly feeling tired. Staring at the dark ceiling, Mike took the next couple of minutes to visualize his steps on how he was going to approach Celia tomorrow before falling asleep.

"Her phone probably died," Jimmy said to Mike the next day. He received the story after meeting his friend outside the factory, thirty minutes before their shift. Jimmy could tell that Mike was concerned, but his friend used as much determination as ever and wanted to get inside to talk to the woman.

"Don't sweat it, buddy," Jimmy added. "I'll get us something to drink while you talk to her."

Mike looked up at him, and he suddenly felt a lot lighter. He grinned softly. "Thanks."

Together, they walked inside the factory, and shifted through the main lobby. Jimmy made his way for the employee lounge, and Mike headed toward the front desk where he would find Celia. "Alright," he said to himself, "I have to be relaxed."

Passing by many monsters, Mike felt his heart pump with eagerness. When he was just twenty feet away, the last person got out of his away, and Mike's heart skipped a beat.

Celia was there alright, but she wasn't alone. There in front of the desk was Zane, and between them was a pot of black roses.

Mike stopped in his track and felt like his breath was taken away. Zane? he thought. But why? It was a moment if shock and distress, and the green monster didn't keep track of how long he had been staring. It was timeless.

He gulped loudly, nearly squeaking nervously when he finally caught Celia watching him. Her expression was guilt, and in an instant, Mike didn't want to see her, at least now, not while Zane was with her.

I don't get what it is going on, he thought.

Jimmy whistled as he put in a dollar to get a coke for himself in the vending machine. He went by in a flash, and he grabbed the coke can before putting in another dollar to get Mike his Gatorade. After pushing in the buttons, however, the machine froze.

"Hm?" Jimmy poked at the machine and watched the bottle, but nothing happened. He was familiar with this sort of thing, but it was rare, and he didn't like it. Nobody would like it. The fluffy monster sighed and began to shake the machine until the bottle fell.

After grabbing the drink, Jimmy glanced up, and his heart practically jumped out of his chest when he saw it. The all too vague yet familiar figure standing in the corner of the vending machine, pointing right at him, lettuce curly shaped fingers.

Dropping the stuff out of his hands, Jimmy nearly shouted, dodged to the side, and fell on his bottom. Panic began to grow as he jerked his head back up at the machine. The figure was gone.

Jimmy continued to breathe harshly, and he suddenly felt something wet on his tail. It took him a few seconds to realize it was the soda that he dropped, and that it was spraying from the linking can. "Ugh." He sat up and began to clean up the mess.

However, nothing was getting dried up, because Jimmy didn't stop to think that he needed a towel. He stopped what he was doing and glanced up to see Mike standing in the distance ahead of him, standing at him questionably.

"Sully, what are you doing?" His voice was harsh, and there was slight bit of concern in it.

"I, uh, dropped—"

"Oh, my," Mike paced over and grabbed a paper towel and handed it to his friend. "Clean it up, we need to get to the cafeteria." He picked up the leaking can and tossed it in the trash.

Jimmy began to dry off the floor and watched Mike closely. His friend was standing against the wall waiting for him. He could tell that Mike was distressed about something and knew that now wasn't the time to tell him what he saw. So, he kept quiet about it.

After cleaning up the mess, Jimmy picked up the Gatorade, and handed it to his friend.

"Aren't you gonna get another drink?" Mike asked.

"Uh, no, I'm not thirsty," Jimmy replied.

Mike didn't question it and started off with his friend behind. He walked with a dull and depression expression and didn't say one word until they got to the cafeteria.

"Uh, what happened?" Jimmy asked.

"Oh, no!" Mike ignored him, and instantly ran across the room and toward the counter.

"What?" Jimmy followed his friend over and noticed there were paint markings all over the counter tops and wall under it. "Uh-Oh, I didn't do it."

"Of course, you didn't do it! Somebody decided to prank us for being new at the job! We don't have time to wash this all off before our shift starts."

"Yeah, we do," Jimmy said. "What happened to the great Mike Wazowski? We know where the cleaning supplies are. I'll go get them."

Mike looked at his friend and nodded. As Jimmy took off, the green monster peered at all the writings on the counters. He just realized they were words and phrases. What made it worse was that they were negative remarks that made him want to scream.

"Stop", "Give up", "Too much", "Don't bother." These phrases sounded a lot like things Mike heard all his life from his peers, or people that told him to give up on his dreams. This didn't sound like a harmless prank. It looked like bullying.

"Why?" he asked himself. He then knelt to the wall beneath the counter and found more words in different colors. "Scum", "Hell" There were so many more Mike read, and others he refused to.

The green monster felt like his day was heading off at a bad start. The girl of his dreams was possibly falling for another man, and now somebody was threating him. He could feel his hands getting damp from his sweat. Then he eyeballed one last word.

"Bloodshed". It was clear in sight, and it wasn't paint. Mike could tell it was made of blood, and it sent chills down his spine. He shut his eye and jerked away.