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“What? No, Director, please!” I hold the card hanging from my neck so tightly that I feel it piercing my skin.
“I will not repeat it a third time, Rebecca. You're fired!”
“You just don't understand! I need this job. My mom's gone, I have rent to pay, bills to cover. I have to survive, damn it!” I explode, pressing my hands against the director's desk, but she seems indifferent to my struggles.
“That's not my problem. Leave, or I'll call security.”
I close my eyes for a moment because I can't see clearly anymore, and I try to take a deep breath. Ripping the card off my neck, I slam it on the desk and storm out of the office.
“Aghhh!” I scream, and I see two elderly people flinch, looking at me as if I'm the only crazy person here.
Yes. I have gone mad! As a final effort, I go to the guard's room, pressuring him to review the footage once more.
“You don't understand, Rebecca. There's nothing here. Please...”
“What I don't understand is how the recordings could disappear overnight. I saw it with my own eyes. Owen. I'm not crazy!”
“Please, don't put me in this position. I have a family, a child. I don't want to lose my job because of this crap about the guy in the suit.”
“In a suit?” I feel something hit me in the back of my head, and immediately it clicks. “I don't think I ever mentioned what he was wearing. You definitely didn't know, and you weren't with me when I saw him on camera. You... are playing his game, aren't you?” I mutter disgustedly.
“Just leave, Becca,” Owen opens the door for me, not daring to meet my gaze.
“I am leaving, Owen, because I feel like puking if I have to look at your face any longer. I hope you buy something nice with your dirty money, for your daughter. Something that's worth destroying someone's life in return. Don't tell her how you got that money; she'd be disgusted by her own father.”
I grab my bag and head towards the exit.
I'm losing the life I built here, for good.
I'm losing everything that surrounds me.
I only have myself left.
Fuck it all!
I don't go home and find myself waiting for God knows what in the parking lot where my life started spiraling down a week ago. I sit in the car and stare into emptiness. Billie Eilish's “No Time to Die” plays on the radio. I take the coffee from the cup holder and look around before pressing my lips against the edge of the plastic cup, but something catches my attention in the rearview mirror.
“Fuck!” I exclaim and hastily get out of the car. “You, stay right there!” I yell and throw the coffee, running frantically.
“Do I know you?!” The elderly woman, dressed entirely in black, holding the same weathered leather book in her arms and with a lined face, stops limping towards the exit of the underground parking lot.
“What have you done? What have you done to me?!” I scream and shake her, losing control.
“I have no idea what you're talking about, kid,” the woman seems scared, and I slap my hands loudly against my face, feeling like I'm losing it if everyone around me keeps messing with my mind.
“You don't know?!” I bite my lip and grip my hair tightly in my fists, bursting into a manic laughter. “Lovers, the Devil, the Hermit, and Death. You've cursed me, you witch!” I make exaggerated gestures, completely oblivious to the fact that people are staring at me like I'm a lunatic.
“I don't cast curses, I break them. And you, kid, you're holding onto the chaos,” she points her finger at me threateningly, as if lecturing, which only ignites a stronger fire within me.
“You think you can unravel it? Oh, now you're the good fairy? Take a look at yourself! Witch, you must have done something to me that day!"
“I don't control destiny,” the woman seems scared and confused, which adds to my own confusion. But there's no room for confusion when desperation engulfs my mind.
“Fuck destiny! Tell me what you've done? Why is everything going haywire since I crossed paths with you? It all started with you. You and your damn books. And what the hell is in this book? A book of spells?” I lunge at the book in the woman's arms.
“Help!” the woman screams at the top of her lungs, refusing to let go of the book.
“Give it to me!” I struggle to take it from her, but I feel like the old lady is way stronger than she looks, or maybe the weakness that overcame me after the attack has turned me into a total vegetable, where even an old lady has more strength than I do.
