Losing Her Job

"You incompetent old fool! You think I'm afraid of you, but let me tell you something, since you must have a first-class degree in stupidity. You are selfish, manipulative, and heartless. While I have less than twelve months to live, you have more than enough time to live as long as possible," she said, pacing back and forth as she released her pent-up energy.

"You think you're a perfect boss, but in reality, you lack competence. You're a master at dumping work on others but a huge failure at actual leadership. Eat up your ego and incompetence in that small office of yours, you red-faced fool!" She paused and sighed in relief.

She felt empty, like she had taken a huge burden off her back, but her boss's next sentence struck her hard.

"You're fired," he said, breaking the short silence between them. She was stunned to hear those words, her mouth wide open as she stared into space.

Her eyebrows furrowed as her face filled with confusion. She hadn't expected to get fired immediately.

A flash of what she had just said ran through her memories like a train crashing against her mind. She gasped at the thought of it and covered her mouth with her hands while the other held her phone.

She had worked so hard over the past few years as a baker at "Sunshine Restaurant."

She could have endured the pain she was feeling if she had known it would come to this. She wasn't the type that would endure and keep her feelings aside just to please the people around her, even if her feelings later got hurt. She was about to speak when she heard a beep.

"He...Hello?" she stammered, bringing the phone to her view, before realizing her boss had hung up on her. She was DOOMED!

It struck Zara that she needed to pay for her chemotherapy treatment.

How was she going to get the money? Why now? Why hadn't she been patient? She was beginning to regret every word she had uttered to her boss.

Zara picked up her bag and ran out of the hospital as fast as she could. She boarded a cab to her workplace and urged the driver to hurry.

The day was still bright and sunny, with birds flying happily and singing together. Zara looked out at the bustling city, busy as ever, even on a weekend.

After what felt like an eternity, she reached her restaurant, paid the driver, and got out.

She pulled the door open and entered the restaurant, filled with happy couples ordering birthday cakes, wedding cakes, and snacks.

For four years, she had watched varieties of couples come and go, and she couldn't help but deny being envious while also being happy.

She quickly went to her boss's office and gently knocked on the door before noticing it was slightly open.

She entered in a rush to see her boss facing her with his 52-year-old back. She couldn't tell what expression was on his face. He had grey hairs signifying he was getting older.

"What are you doing here, Zara? Didn't you hear me over the phone?" he questioned as he swirled his office chair to face her, revealing his potbelly that strained against his clothes.

"Mr. Reed—" she began, but he interrupted her.

If he hadn't stopped her from talking, she was ready to beg him if it meant getting her job back.

"What was that name you called me again?" he asked, tapping his fingers on his desk.

Zara furrowed her brows in thought, wondering why her boss asked her that question.

But remembering what she had earlier called him, she snapped out of her thoughts with a sudden burst of happiness, clasping her hands. "Red-faced fool?" she shouted.

Zara and her colleagues had given him that name because of his excessively red cheeks. Her boss was also fat, and that made it the perfect name they could give him.

"You?" He pointed at her angrily, his face reddening even more.

He clutched his neck, pain etched on his face. He stood up and walked toward Zara, one hand on his waist and the other on his neck.

"Why are you here?" he asked, stopping in front of her.

Zara pressed her lips into a thin line and tilted her head. "I'm not fired, right?"

A moment of silence hung between them, but Mr. Reed soon broke it with his laughter.

Zara waited, excitement filling her eyes, but that positivity soon turned negative with her boss's words.

"You want your job back?" he asked, his eyes sweeping over Zara from head to toe.

Zara nodded, and he stepped closer to her. "If you want your job back, you'll have to be my mistress."

Zara took a step back, her eyes locked on Mr. Reed's reddening face.

He kept advancing, closing the distance between them until Zara's back hit the door. She wanted to open it, but he pounced on her like a beast ready to devour its prey.

He moved even closer, his belly grazing her stomach. Mr. Reed knew how much Zara loved her job and intended to use it for his own pleasure.

Zara's eyes widened in horror as Mr. Reed's hot breath wafted onto her face, her pulse racing with fear.

"Let me... Let me go," she stuttered, trying her best to escape his trapped hold. Panic set in, her heart racing like a wild animal.

"Don't try to be stubborn, Zara. No one can save you except me," he said, lifting her chin. He leaned in closer, ready to kiss her.

Zara's eyes blazed with defiance as she struggled to break free, but Mr. Reed didn't budge.

One thing she would never do was give her body to a man who wasn't her husband. She knew some of her colleagues were having an affair with Mr. Reed, but that was something forbidden – something sacred. She had never had a boyfriend, and even if she did she wanted it to be a healthy relationship.

Zara sighed in frustration, realizing he wasn't going to let her go. In desperation, she aimed lower and kicked his groin.

Mr. Reed's eyes widened, his face contorting in pain as he groaned. Immediately, he released Zara from his grip, clutching his groin.

Zara seized the opportunity, pushing past him and stumbling toward the door.

"You'll pay for that, you bitch!" Mr. Reed yelled, his voice laced with pain.

As fast as she could, she ran out of the restaurant without looking back, even though she could feel her colleagues' stares behind her.

As soon as she stepped outside, the sun hit her face, and she instinctively covered her eyes with her hand.

A wave of nostalgia washed over her, bringing a flood of memories from the past.

How she loved baking at Sunshine Restaurant despite Mr. Reed's pressure. How happy she had been when she got the job. The friendships she had made over the last few years—all gone.

She had worked hard for four years, and all she got was being fired. She sighed.

Well, maybe it was for the better, she thought to herself.

The thought that she would be dead in less than a year hit her hard again. Her heart ached, not with fear, but with pain. She had always wanted to find her parents' killer, but she only had eleven freaking months left.

Would that be enough time to find them? What if what the old woman said was true? What if she could miraculously live long enough to find her parents' and brother's true killer?

She desperately wanted to live, to find the love she had always seen in movies and read about in books, and if that was possible, she was willing to do anything—even go to the old cemetery house.

****

Her hand tightened on the bag as she walked down the alley. She couldn't help but look back each time as she felt someone following her from behind. Despite that, she kept pushing forward, her legs becoming weak from the journey.

It was getting dark by the time Zara reached the old cemetery house.

A creaking gate, adorned with rusty hinges and a boldly written name, "Raven Cemetery, 1500," hung on the entrance.

A shiver ran down Zara's body as she became hyper-aware of her surroundings. The gate creaked open, jolting her and sending a chill to her pulse.

"There's no going back, Zara," she murmured to herself. She needed to get this done before she changed her mind.

She had summoned a little bit of courage to come here, and it would be a waste if she left without anything.

As slowly as ever, she entered the cemetery as the gate pulled open by itself. The place was filled with mist and had a far-from-welcoming aura.

An old mansion loomed over the weathered headstones. She couldn't help but stare at the mansion, despite its dangerous aura and the secrets hidden there for thousands of years.

She had expected the old cemetery house to be dirty, but it looked surprisingly clean, as if someone had been regularly visiting. Yet, there were no footprints on the floor. Or was she overthinking?

The mansion felt familiar, yet distant, at the same time. She had never been here before and, knowing that she wasn't one to disobey her parents' words made her uneasy.

She tried to dismiss her thoughts by shaking her head and pulled the blade from her bag.

She took a deep breath in and out before cutting her palm while her eyes were closed.

Immediately, a hiss escaped her lips as the sting of pain hit, and blood trickled down her hand.

She had cut herself so deeply, she hadn't realized it at first.

"I want to live again, please," she said despite the pain, as she gazed at the mansion like it was capable of answering her.

Immediately after making her wish, she tore a part of her yellow gown and used it to tie her wounded hand as blood kept pouring from it. She hissed in pain while tying the cloth carefully.

She hadn't noticed the dead body when she came inside. Taking in her surroundings, her gaze traveled to the dead bodies cemented by whoever lived there.

Her eyes stopped in their tracks as she spotted a familiar name etched on the edge of a cemented grave.

She moved closer, confusion evident in her eyes. Her heart thumped loudly as she read the name, "Kai Blackwood."

It was her brother's name, and sorrow filled her eyes. Tears trickled down her cheeks. Her fist clenched tightly as she held onto the last shred of her sanity.

She stared at her brother's grave with longing eyes. If only she hadn't left that night. If only she hadn't called for them. Her parents and brother would have lived happily together.

But where were her parents? She looked around, checking the names on the graves with hope in her heart. She kept checking, unaware that time was slipping away.

A thunderclap rumbled loudly, and Zara looked up at the dark sky to see that heavy rain was approaching.

Another rumble sent a shiver down her spine. The weather made the cemetery even scarier. As quickly as she could, she ran out of the old cemetery.

As she turned to leave, her spilled blood had formed what looked like text: "FATE." It shimmered bright red on the ground.

Zara walked down the dark alley as rain began to pour heavily. She had used the bus station to come here, but it was too far to return from the old cemetery house, so she had to endure the violent, pouring rain.

It seemed like today was against her, just as she thought. Getting fired from work, almost becoming Mr. Reed's mistress, being given only eleven months to live, realizing her brother was buried here after she had tried so hard to find his bodies.

Wasn't that all just a bad day? But what about her parent?

Unconsciously, her hands clenched into fists, crumpling the yellow gown. Her brows furrowed. She felt a lump slowly forming in her throat. She gazed out at the old cemetery, distant and blurry in her tear-filled view.

Whoever lived there must pay for what they did to my brother and parents.

She was about to dash into the shade to prevent getting even wetter when she felt a glimmer of hope as she saw a car approaching. The headlights were so bright that she couldn't see who was inside.

The car stopped right in front of her, and for a moment, she thought maybe today wasn't so bad after all.

At least she wouldn't have to endure the pouring rain. But then, two huge, burly men stepped out of the car. She couldn't see their faces and couldn't make out what they looked like.

Before she knew it, her head was covered with a black nylon bag, and she was being carried into the car.

She struggled as much as she could, but to no avail—the men were too strong for her to handle.

Had she been kidnapped?