You couldn't quite understand what happened the past few months, but you were glad to say that it was at ease, well, for the most part at least. You continued working at the company, and you've grown so much since the first time you came; although you were assigned to a different field, that still didn't keep your mind off of what happened that night - the last time you've ever talked to your boss - though it didn't bother you much anymore, it still reminds you somehow when she walks past you or you caught a glimpse of red hair somewhere, and sometimes you wonder if she's also thinking the same way.
"What the hell is going on with you?!" A girl was practically running behind someone as they both strolled their way to a more private part of the building. "Is this about her?!"
Somewhere along in that said private part of the building, you were unfortunately in it, having a phone call, but it was cut short when you heard people screaming, having no idea who they were. But as you eavesdrop further, you cursed yourself for even wanting to know who they were.
"What?" It came from Natasha's voice, hearing them both stop at a halt from somewhere.
"Oh, don't act like you don't know who I'm talking about," Haley, her fiancée, replied.
You had to be quiet, but for some reason, you found yourself hiding behind an empty table, trying your best to hide but at the same time watching as the scene unfolded.
Natasha scoffed, "What does she have to do with everything that's happening?"
"A lot," Haley responded. "And since she stopped being around you, you've been acting like I wasn't even here anymore - like I just vanished like she did."
"Why are you getting so insecure?"
Haley scoffed. "I'm not and I don't, I'm just pointing out the fact that your little breakup with her is affecting you more than it should've."
"Affecting me? Shouldn't it be you?! You're the one who's always pushing me with these things—"
"I'm not pushing you, I'm asking!"
"Then ask properly," Natasha nonchalantly suggested, probably knowing Haley wouldn't do it anyway.
There was a long unbearing pause in their argument, giving each other short glances from time to time as the other tried to think of what to say next, and the longer you stared at the both of them, it seemed as though your breathing picked up, knowing what you're doing is bad and it will get you fired at some point — if they find out you were here with them.
The usual thought then spiraled into your mind, and you hated it, it was a thought that made you hate yourself more than anyone has ever had. The sense of guilt crawls its way back into your body, eating you alive as you realize it was your fault.
"It's all my fault," you whispered under your breath, "they're fighting because of me."
All of a sudden, right about when they began to walk away, your phone vibrated, and your heart dropped as a ringtone followed; picking your phone up, the screen lit up, which gave a silhouette under the table you were hiding.
Dad. It read.
Closing your eyes. Breaths in. Then out.
"I know you're under the table," Natasha's usual bossy tone came ringing inside your ears.
"Fuck you, Dad, for giving me away," you muttered, declining the call.
"If you're playing hide and seek then it's over," she strolled closer and your heart beat faster. "Come out!" She yelled. Of course, you didn't want to, you'd be dead if you came out. You'd be dead either way. "Tsk," you heard her sigh, yet you continued to close your eyes.
Then a second later, a hand grabbed your upper arm and you had no idea how fast she was able to pull you out from under the wooden table.
"I'm sorry," you blurted out like a shivering puppy as you slowly peeled your eyes open, and the moment you made eye contact with her, you could swear her breath hitched; for a brief second her hand tightened on your arm before she instantly released it.
"You fired," were the first words she said.
"What?" Your eyes widened. "No, you didn't even think about it."
"How can you say that?" She dared to ask.
"Because... Because it's too fast, it's happening too fast, you can't just decide to fire me like that," you complained, doing everything you could to convince her that she wouldn't. "Please," you begged, "you can't fire me, at least not yet... I promise I won't tell anyone about this, I swear on my life I wasn't even here to begin with, just, please, please, please, don't fire me."
If only the odds were in your favor, you would've even been the one to resign from this company, but unfortunately, they're not, and you needed this money, plus your boss is generous with your wages.
"Listen," she started, "I'm making this easier for you, so please, walk away and never come back, you're fired." You didn't move, so in a matter of seconds, she grabbed your arm again, guiding you out into the hallway.
"No," you say firmly.
"What?" Natasha's jaw clenched.
"I said no," turning around to face her, "you can't fire me," you added.
"Yes, I can," you can tell that by her tone she was running out of patience.
"No, you can't, I'm not leaving until I want to—"
"Y/N!" She yelled, completely cutting you off. "You are fucking fired, what part of that can you not understand?!" She continued, "Pack your bags and walk out of that door, you're no longer needed here. Anyone can do your job, so you're fired." She exclaimed. "Leave. "
You didn't flinch, nor were you scared, you were shocked at what was happening, and you only blinked once. By the time she finished what she was saying you immediately left, and on your way out, people were staring at you, curious about what you did that made the boss scream like that, and your heart shattered to how embarrassed you were feeling. When you reached the elevator, the tears finally fell, you're a soft-hearted person and you didn't like being yelled at, your brain completely shuts down and your stomach gets crazy feelings of uneasiness which always made you feel like you were a toddler getting scolded for breaking someone else's toys, and the worst part is that it won't stop until something else takes over and that usually takes off months before you get back to the normal feelings and mindset, and during those months you would constantly feel paranoid about everything around you, and when that happens you end up not eating or drinking anything or not doing anything entirely while locked inside your room.
Later that night, when your phone rang for the hundredth time since this morning, you finally picked it up, sighing before you tapped the green button.
"Hello?" You almost whisper.
"Sweetheart! Finally, I was beginning to think you didn't want to talk to me, " your father's voice was booming, happy that you answered the phone. But you didn't reply the same way though, that's why, "Hey you okay kiddo?"
"Yeah, as if it wasn't that already obvious," you mumbled under your breath so he wouldn't hear any. "Just... busy with work," you reasoned, not like you have any but, "Why'd you call?" You followed up, clearing your throat so you wouldn't be slurring your words.
"Well, it's Thanksgiving next week, I was thinking you could — I don't know, come by?" Every year, your father always invites you on special occasions, but every year you decline, it's not because of work, but because of what reminds you of celebrating things. Family occasions were never a problem to you, well, not until you lost someone close to your heart, and you just couldn't bring yourself to celebrate anything without them.
"Uhm..." You thought about it.
"It's... Fine if you're busy, I'll just have to come up with some other reasons for your brothers again," usually you wouldn't cave in by his words, the guilt-tripping tone, using your brothers, and having him reason to you that he'll lie to his sons and whatnot, but he's trying, it just gets tiring to hear those words every year so...
"Okay, just for Thanksgiving," you replied after some time.
"Yes, just for Thanksgiving," you could hear the smile from his voice, "I promise, and thank you!"
"It's fine."
"Love you, little bug!" He blurts out, followed by the bip from the end of the line.
You consider, but only because he wouldn't hear it. "Love you, too."
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