Dismissed
Melissa
The time came for me to leave the hospital and take care of myself—by myself. My forced seclusion was another emotional violation as I relived not only the abuse in my head but also the betrayal of being thrown away like trash. Though the memory of the rape was torturous, it was the memories of all the happy times over the last six months that crippled me. Even the months with the fewer visits haunted me. I didn't know saying three little words would send Peyton running, but ‘I love you’ was like a light switch. They flipped from on to off, and our time together just vanished. The weekly visits that once went on for days became monthly visits that lasted hours and the calls, texts, and playful messages disappeared.
The rape created much of the same reaction in Peyton. The night he found me, he’d been comforting and caring, the next day distant. By the time I was released, he’d disappeared with a single text.
Peyton: Car will pick you up and take you back to the apartment.
I figured out quickly that the road map of my life had taken a detour, and the new road would be hard terrain. The fact that a set of clothes had been left at the nurse's station with my name said everything. In the real world, it shouldn't have mattered. I’d said no, but we didn’t exist in the real world. In the entitled world where it happened, I betrayed him by inviting Bryce into my life. My unwillingness was irrelevant.
My life had become an emotional rollercoaster. It had significant downward dips and only rose in little hurdles, before falling back toward the ground. Physically my body began to heal, but emotionally the pain bubbled deep under violet bruises that lingered as their color changed.
I refused the prescription for pain medication when I left the hospital. The physical pain couldn't even compare to how I struggled emotionally. Instead of making it go away, I used the pain as a reminder of all the hurt and anger I felt. The pain was my source of empowerment. The more the anger grew, the more determined I became to fight back. I wanted to punish Bryce Spencer, but the fear of Peyton and Infidelity made me hesitate.
As my fingers mindlessly traced the letters, over and over, of each word written in that damn cruel letter the limo driver had handed me, my mind replayed the scene of my dismissal.
The car owned by Infidelity came to a stop in front of the apartment building. As I got out, the driver handed me an envelope. “Don’t open it until you are in the apartment,” he said with a quick nod as he then shut the back door, turned away, opened the driver's door, and disappeared.
Six months ago, I’d been catered to and pampered, but those days were over. It seemed that even the ‘help’ was now dismissing me like I was nothing—a penny dropped on the road but not worthy enough to be picked up.
As I entered the building, the vibrant world where I’d arrived six months ago no longer existed. The security guard was away from his desk, and the doorman was on break. No other residents wandered through the lobby—it was a ghost town. I wasn’t sure how they’d done it, but the message was clear: I was no longer welcome here. I was invisible, nothing more than a figment of their imagination.
The elevator doors opened as if waiting for my arrival. I stepped in and the doors closed behind me. I rode alone up to the apartment. Once the elevator reached the seventh floor, the doors opened, and I faced the entrance to hell.
I didn’t want to be there. I wanted the doors to close and take me back down. But the doors stayed open and waited for me to exit. The envelope with my name scrolled across the front that the driver had given me was similar to the one I’d first seen on the front seat of my car nearly a year ago.
I recognized the writing, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that it wasn’t a love letter. It was my dismissal. The letter along with the fact that no one had visited me since the detective left led me to believe the fate of my future had been decided.
The driver had told me to wait until I was in the apartment to read it, but I was sick of following orders. Determined to regain some control, I ripped that fucking envelope open right at the doorway while still in the hallway.
Who would stop me? I’d become a ghost that no one saw. My hands shook as I read.
Miss Summers,
As of June 1, 2015, your services for employment are no longer required, and future compensation has been suspended permanently. Any past payment is under review for violation of the agreement and may be eligible for reimbursement.
Please note, the scholarship to Northwestern University was contingent upon your continued employment with our company. Therefore, it is with great regret that Northwestern has rescinded your scholarship. You have been placed on academic suspension until further notice, effective immediately.
You are also required to move out of the provided housing within 30 days from the date of your dismissal. Please be aware other penalties could be assessed against you. We are sorry for your misfortune; however, a breach of the contract cannot be tolerated under any circumstances.
Per your contract, you are required to meet with one of our executives for a formal interview. Once the exit interview is complete, you will be informed if our client wishes to invoke any other penalties for your breach of contract.
Sincerely,
Karen Flores
I read the letter multiple times, each pass-through a little quieter in my head and slower in hopes the letter would fade away just as my voice had. In reality, the more I read it, the more it became real. I repeated the words until they were a soundtrack of the scrolled letters blasting in my head.
I don't know how long I sat in tears in front of the doorway to hell, but the minute I entered the apartment something changed. My eyes were dry, my soul drained, and my heart was as hard as stone.
For some reason, I recalled the children’s game that kids often played to determine who would go first—rock, paper, scissors. The rock broke scissors. Paper covered rock. And scissors cut paper. Independently, each had the strength to beat the other, but together they were unstoppable.
My heart was the rock, my knowledge was the paper, and by God, in that moment I became determined that I would be the scissors. Knowledge was my gift. My broken heart was my determination, and every motherfucking person who’d hurt me was my strength. The scissors would cut, the paper would reveal, and the rock would break each one of them. I made myself a promise: they would all bleed by my hand. It may not be today but it will happen someday.
As I looked around the empty apartment, I felt the change in the atmosphere—cold and unwelcoming. It held an odor of superiority and entitlement, not the sexy citrusy scent from the past. Even the sweet scent of a lavender candle couldn’t mask the foul smell. The eeriness shook me to the core.
The apartment appeared the same as the day I’d moved in. Everything had been cleaned. No one who walked in now would believe that a violent rape had taken place within these walls only days before.
Memories of the horrid night flashed before my eyes day and night. It didn't matter if I was awake or asleep: all I saw were the faces of all the ones who hurt me. It wasn't just Bryce's face but also the face of the man who left me when I needed someone the most. I’d needed and craved comfort, but all I’d received was a dismissal. I was now alone with an eviction notice. However, I didn’t need to leave yet. I had one month to fester in my poor decisions and nurture the vengeful bitch who was coming to life within me.
I wasn't the only one who would pay the debt of lies and deceit. No matter the cost, others also had overdue payments to make—and they would, as long as I had anything to say about it.
I’d wanted Bryce to pay for his sins but the constant reminders of my agreement gave me doubts in the pursuit of justice. The question was no longer if Bryce would pay, but how he would pay.
I also had an internal battle brewing within me, questioning who else would be punished and who would be indebted for my suffering. Bryce had stolen a piece of me when he refused to stop when I begged. However, he wasn't the only one who took from me. Others confiscated something even more precious than my body: they’d taken my soul.
Just as the nurse from the hospital hammered the final nail into the casket that held my mental peace, the letter from Infidelity drove the final nail into my heart.
Emotionally, I was dead, and revenge would be served to those who stole my life from me.