I Picked Up a God in the Trash

Monday night overtime. I grabbed a cup of cheap ramen from the breakroom to save a few bucks. Blistering hot broth scorched my lip as I typed furiously, racing against the clock. By the time I hit send on the final pitch deck, the digital clock glared 11:00 PM. I pulled up Ubera massive surge price and zero available cars mocked my exhaustion. I closed the app.

The last subway train out to the outer boroughs remained my only option. I trudged toward the alley dumpsters behind the office building, the half-eaten ramen cup warming my numb fingers.

A raspy, gravelly voice scraped through the pitch-black alley. "Hey if you're not going to eat that, can I have it?"

Chapter 1

A long, skeletal appendage slid out from the deepest shadows, steadying the ramen cup. Wait. That didn't look like a human hand. Shimmering silver scales coated the muscular limb. My gaze tracked up the arm, slamming straight into a pair of piercing, pale-gold eyes.

The creature crouched beside the rusted dumpster, its massive frame resembling a monstrous, bipedal lizard. The creature tilted its scaly head. "Please, can I eat it?" he repeated.

My vocal cords completely seized up. I managed a jerky nod.

He snatched the cup. Using my plastic fork, he shoveled the cold noodles into his mouth, devouring every last bite. A soft burp rumbled from his throat. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's fine," I squeaked out, spinning on my heel. Sleep deprivation. Severe hallucinations. My brain officially snapped from the toxic corporate hustle. I took a frantic step toward the street.

"Let me take you home." His deep voice pinned me in place.

I clung to his scaled back as we vaulted across the neon-drenched skyline of the city. Hey, at least he saved me subway fare.

"You live in the run-down complex out in the East End?" he asked over the rushing wind.

"Sorry. It's pretty far out," I shouted back. I was really apologizing for being brutally poor. I spent years in college, aced all my classes, and still ended up renting a shoebox on the absolute fringes of society.

He completely missed the self-pity. "There's an old carnival out in the East End. The midnight fireworks look beautiful."

Exhaustion seeped into my bones. "How did you even get past park security?"

"I hid inside a garbage truck. They never saw me."

The conversation died out. The entire city blurred into streaks of light beneath us. The Financial District glowed like a massive beacon, while the sprawling City Park stretched out like a black void. In the distance, the last subway train silently glided away from its concrete platform.

The lizard-man touched down silently in the cracked parking lot of my apartment building. The dead of night offered perfect cover. Zero witnesses. I slid off his massive back, murmuring a quick thank you.

I headed straight for the stairwell, but my chest tightened. My sleazy landlord, Vernon, leaned against the brick wall, taking a drag from his cigarette. The second Vernon glanced in my direction, the lizard-man vanished into the shadows like a ghost.

"Well, well. If it isn't Piper." Vernon dragged out the syllables, a greasy, predatory smirk stretching across his face.

I gave a stiff nod, quickening my pace to get past him.

The moment I stepped within arm's reach, his thick fingers clamped around my wrist like a vice. He leaned in, dropping his voice to a sickening whisper. "Why don't you come up to my place for a drink? I could knock half a month's rent off your lease"

I yanked my arm, but his grip held firm. I shook with rage. "Back off, Vernon! You're waving a major red flag right now."

He crowded my personal space. The stench of stale tobacco and cheap bourbon assaulted my senses. "Sweetheart, you haven't even seen me cross a line yet."

I drove my elbow upward, shattering his nose. As he doubled over in agony, I gripped the strap of my laptop bag and swung it like a wrecking ball, smashing the heavy leather into his skull. Thud. Thud. Thud. He crumpled against the concrete, utterly lifeless. Thick, dark blood slithered down the concrete steps

Pure imagination.

In brutal reality, my lungs squeezed tight. I forced out a pathetic, trembling whisper. "If you don't stop I'm calling the cops."

Vernon barked out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Oh yeah? And tell them what? You got proof I did anything?" He finally released my wrist. He rubbed his grimy fingertips together, practically savoring the lingering heat of my skin. "Drop the attitude, little girl. Don't forget who holds your six months of prepaid rent and your one-month security deposit."

A suffocating weight crushed my chest. Acid burned the back of my throat. My lungs refused to expand. The crushing reality of my empty bank account paralyzed my limbs.

Then, a heavy, dragging scrape of footsteps echoed from the shadows behind me. Vernon peered over my shoulder. The smug smirk melted off his face, replaced by a bizarre, twisted look of pure horror.

Chapter 2

I spun around.

The lizard-man lumbered toward us, his massive, scaled legs dragging in a clumsy, heavy rhythm. He stopped inches from Vernon. "Excuse me. Which unit do you occupy?"

Vernons eyes bulged out of his skull. His jaw hung slack.

I pointed upward. "Two floors above me."

The lizard-man tilted his scaly head back. A fist-sized fireball shot from his maw like a blinding meteor, hurtling straight toward Vernons window. A violent, searing flash illuminated the brick exterior before plunging back into darkness.

Vernon snapped out of his trance. He spat a string of violent curses and scrambled up the stairwell in absolute panic.

The lizard-man turned his golden eyes to me. "Creatures like him do not deserve the dignity of clothing."

A sudden, genuine laugh tore from my throat.

We sat awkwardly across from each other in my cramped, dumpster-fire of a studio apartment. He slurped the instant noodles with the slow, meticulous grace of a maestro.

"Why did you follow me?" I asked.

He swallowed. "Forgive my presumption. But I knew the second I saw you. You are the kind of human who would make a deal with me."

"What kind of deal?"

He set down the plastic fork. Those pale gold eyes locked onto mine. "Give me your entire life force. In exchange, I will let you live out the rest of your days in a dream."

"What kind of dream?"

"One so perfect, you will refuse to believe it is an illusion."

Heavy silence swallowed the room. I pictured the endless overtime. The cheap ramen. Vernons greasy hands. A future choking on thick, suffocating smog. I slumped into the thrifted sofa, every muscle completely drained. "I need to think about it."

He offered a gentle smile and nodded. Before leaving, he uncurled his massive claws. A single, slightly grubby chocolate chip cookie rested in his palm. "Happy birthday, Piper."

Brenda flipped open her planner, rattling off the morning agenda. "Leighton crushed the new marketing pitch this month. Abbott approved the entire campaign yesterday."

Ice flooded my veins. My stomach plummeted straight through the floorboards. I had built that pitch deck from scratch a week ago. Leighton had taken two days off for lip fillers and completely ghosted the team. I typed until my wrist swelled to double its size, icing it just to finish the slides.

Brenda never even glanced in my direction. She beamed at Leighton. "Worthy of being Claytons daughter. Growing up in the industry really shows. You handle these accounts with such class."

Leighton flicked her gaze toward me. Her glossy smirk screamed the truth loud and clear: I stole your work. And you can't do a damn thing about it.

Brenda finally looked at me, her brow furrowing in deep disapproval. "Piper, your output flatlined this month. You really need to show some actual initiative."

Oxygen vanished from the room. A high-pitched ringing pierced my ears. Pure, unadulterated gaslighting. I dug my fingernails into my leather notebook until my knuckles turned bone-white. "I'll push harder, Brenda," I whispered.

Leighton flashed a sugary-sweet smile. "Piper doesn't have the best degree, but she grinds. Its her one saving grace."

Brenda nodded enthusiastically. "Perfect synergy. Leighton handles the strategy, and Piper does the grunt work."

The unspoken reality hung thick in the air. Leighton took home all the glory.

The black mirror of my monitor reflected my dead eyes. Heavy, dark circles dragged down my face. Greasy, unwashed hair plastered to my skulla brutal contrast to Leightons flawless blowout. She latched onto my career like a designer-clad leech, slowly draining every last drop of blood from my veins.

Chapter 3

Brenda packed up her planner and marched out of the glass conference room first.

Leighton tapped her fresh, pristine acrylic nails against my laptop screen. "Piper, be a doll and handle that data scrub Brenda asked me to do, okay?"

The moment she strutted away, Brooke brushed past my chair and offered a pitiful pat on my shoulder. "We all paid our dues as the new girl. Just keep your head down and grind it out."

Merit meant absolutely nothing in this toxic corporate wasteland. Without an Ivy League degree or a nepotism connection, I was just fresh meat thrown into a tank of starving sharks. Anyone could take a bite. Every morning when I swiped my keycard, I deliberately checked my soul at the door. It was the only way to keep a small, untainted piece of myself alive.

Squeezed between sweaty commuters on the subway train, I pulled up Nancy's contact and shot off a quick text: Hey Mom. It's been a while. How are you?

The reply bubble popped up almost instantly: That inheritance money belongs to Cooper. Don't even think about asking for a dime! My thumb swiped left, deleting the thread with dead-eyed apathy.

I opened a new message to Martin. Three stops blurred past the dark glass before my phone finally buzzed. Piper, I'm so sorry I missed your birthday yesterday. Gail is watching the bank accounts like a hawk right now, so I couldn't mail you a gift. A $30 Zelle notification followed, captioned: Treat yourself to something nice.

I accepted the transfer and doom-scrolled for another thirty minutes until the train screeched into my station. Climbing the concrete stairs to the street level, I hit up Hector's food cart and ordered a massive chili cheese dog, asking for extra crispy onions. I devoured the greasy comfort food on the dark walk back to my building.

The usual street noise suddenly dropped into an eerie, dead silence.

I snapped my head around.

Sure enough, the massive lizard-man stood perfectly still beneath a flickering streetlamp. The pale moonlight caught his scales, shifting their silver hue into a deep, haunting sapphire. "Piper," he rumbled. "Have you made your decision?"

We strolled side-by-side down the desolate, shadowed sidewalk like old friends. But the casual conversation slipping between us would send most humans spiraling into absolute terror. "Before I sign my soul and life force over to you," I started, "can you grant me three wishes first?"

He chewed a stolen bite of my chili dog with startling aristocratic grace. "Whatever gave you the impression I would agree to such terms?"

A dry, humorless laugh escaped my lips. "That's how the genie in the lamp works. If you want my entire existence, you need to cough up a little signing bonus to prove you're serious."

He swallowed his food. "What are your terms? I cannot fulfill anything overly complex."

I didn't even hesitate. "I want to eat at an insanely expensive, ultra-luxury buffet. The absolute top tier in the city."

"That is all?" he asked, tilting his scaly head.

I nodded firmly. "That's it."

Five minutes later, the glittering neon skyline whipped past us as we soared through the freezing night air. "What's your actual name?" I yelled over the rushing wind.

"Yulian Y?kul Noka Alaric."

I let that sink in for three seconds. "Do you mind if I just call you Yuli?"

"I do not mind."

Cameron, the valet at the gold-plated entrance, stood sharp in a black-and-gold uniform, crisp white gloves, and mirror-shined oxfords. He flashed a practiced, flawless smile and pulled the heavy glass doors open for us. He didn't even bat an eye at the towering reptilian beast at my side. "Welcome to The Zenith."

A hostess escorted us to a prime corner booth. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows showcased a breathtaking, panoramic view of the restless metropolis. I practically sprinted toward the extravagant dining stations.

Tiered marble displays overflowed with culinary masterpiecesfoie gras mousse, fresh sea urchin, miso-glazed black cod, black truffle prime rib, and an endless array of artisan pastries. Sensory overload hijacked my brain. I plated tiny, terrified portions of everything, afraid of breaking some unspoken high-society rule.

But as I carried my loaded tray back to the booth, a sickeningly familiar voice sliced through the ambient jazz

Chapter 4

"Piper?"

That voice nuked my appetite instantly. I snapped my head back.

Leighton stood there, poured into a designer knit dress. She leaned her elbow against the back of my booth, flashing a glossy, manicured smile. "What a crazy coincidence! You actually like this place? My boyfriend and I are regulars."

Tristan sat right across from her. Finance bro aesthetic written all over himtailored Tom Ford suit, flashing obnoxiously expensive cufflinks.

Her eyes raked over my overflowing tray. Fake shock stretched her features. "Wow. Did you literally empty the buffet? Are you starving?"

"Yeah. I'm starving," I deadpanned. Carrying the workload of two people while being treated like a human doormat works up a serious appetite.

A sharp, condescending laugh snorted from her lips. "Makes sense. With your tragic salary, you probably saved up all year for this. Better get your money's worth." Her gaze flicked to Yuli. Curiosity flashed in her eyes, but she swallowed whatever comment sat on her tongue. "Piper, want to join us?" she asked. "I'm brainstorming a new pitch for Brenda. You could totally help me do the heavy lifting."

Help me do the heavy lifting. Acid clawed up my throat. Bile burned the back of my mouth. A visceral wave of nausea hit me so hard my stomach violently contracted.

Yuli, completely silent until now, slowly lifted his massive head. Those pale gold eyes locked onto Leighton.

Three seconds later, pure chaos erupted.

Leighton lunged forward, clawing at Tristan's tailored sleeve. Her words spilled out in a frantic, manic rush. "Babe, we need to get married immediately! You're honestly a solid six out of ten, but your finance job is prestigious enough to feed my massive ego. I only have one condition for our marriageI get to keep a boy toy on the side. You are absolute garbage in bed. The equipment down there seriously doesn't match your heightMmph!"

My jaw hit the floor. The pristine, untouchable heiress harbored some deeply unhinged secrets.

Tristan's face turned livid. He violently ripped his arm out of her grip. "If you want a side piece so badly, fund him with your own damn trust fund! Don't ever touch my credit cards again!"

The second Tristan stormed out of the restaurant, the manic trance shattered. Leighton snapped back to reality. She locked her furious glare on me, a venomous sneer twisting her perfect lips. "Piper. You did this. Clearly, I haven't been making your life miserable enough at the office."

I stared dead into her eyes, articulating every single syllable. "So. You did it on purpose."

She rolled her eyes, dripping with impatience. "Did what?"

"I thought you dumped your grunt work on me just to climb the corporate ladder," I said. "But you're just a straight-up bully."

A nasty, triumphant smirk pulled at her mouth. "Wow, you finally caught on. Took you long enough, stupid. Don't blame me. Blame your broke parents. They couldn't buy you an Ivy League degree or hand you a decent network. You are going to rot under my heel for the rest of your pathetic life. You'll marry some equally worthless loser, breed another miserable daughter" Her voice climbed to a shrill, hysterical pitch. A deranged, feverish glint danced in her eyes.

Splat.

A massive, yellow clump dropped directly onto the crown of her perfect blowout. She raised a trembling hand. Her manicured fingers grazed the slimy mess. A gigantic, intensely briny mound of raw sea urchin sashimi.

Blake, the passing server, didn't even break his stride. "Oops. My hand slipped," he deadpanned