CHAPTER 20
I reached the office in time, didn't make eye contact with anyone, and went towards my desk. I was checking my mail when Simon called me, and nervousness engulfed me, but I could not show that bastard; he was like a dog. Simple mistake enough, he would become suspicious. I tried to calm myself and entered his cabin.
"What happened to both of you after returning from France? I took leave, and I am not able to reach Mr. Mathew. Has anything happened in France?" OK, he is also on leave. Don't tell me something happened to him. Before leaving the hotel, I never looked at him, not even for a second. He is not that fragile, right? I mean, he is a man. Can he be sensitive? Can he act normal? , Act normal, act normal, my subconscious, "I don't know; I was tired due to work pressure, so I took leave." "Really, but what about Mr. Mathew? He would always attend to my calls. At least he would drop messages from the past few days; I have not been able to get in touch with him." For at least once in his life, can't he mind his own business? "Can I just go? I have work to do." "What is wrong with you? "Nothing; I have piles of work pending; I need to get back to my desk." "OK.".
With that, I exited his cabin. Can anyone erase Scott's memory of that dreadful day completely, where there would be only quarreling between us and nothing else? I am fucking hating myself.
It was 15 days since Scott had not yet returned to the company, and I would get a nervous breakdown, and anxiety was killing me. Waiting for something bound to happen in your life is the worst part of it, and day by day, facing that is a terror to walk alone. Whenever a car would stop beside me, I would get frightened. After reaching the company, I would check the mood of Simon and also my colleagues to see if it's the same or if any changes occurred. This anxiety about waiting was killing me slowly.
After 20 days, Scott showed up when I heard this news. I was not able to sit on my seat; I was going to the washroom every 30 minutes to wash my face and calm myself.
At noon, I received a call from Scott. My waiting period finally came. I had waited long enough for this moment. I need to face it. Yes. Will I come alive from his cabin? That was a question mark. I was tired of guessing what would happen to me. This was all bullshit. By displaying my bravery only on the outside, I was making my way to his cabin. Only I knew what I was facing inside me.
Breathe in and out like I did 10 times before entering his cabin. With permission, I entered, but I could not muster the courage to see his face. From the time I entered his cabin, I was facing the floor. What a douchebag I was. I could sense his stare on me with burning rage. He spoke.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Walker, How are you? I thought I would never see that face of yours again. Bravo! Here you are working like nothing has happened peacefully; you have some audacity after committing a crime. On the other hand, I guess you would have predicted that wherever the hell you would hide, I would use my full power to pull you out of that bloody hideout of yours, am I right? I cannot believe hats off to your guts after raping someone, leaving him like that on the bed without turning back on top of it, and coming and working on his own company as if nothing has happened. Seriously, please tell me what you were thinking. For your information, I took a DNA test after you fucking left me to die over there; a sperm count was found; of course, it's yours; I have kept the result safely; and I took an AIDs test. Thank you for not transferring anything to me; because of you, I had to meet a psychiatrist, and as I was not able to overcome the trauma that you had given to me and for making me experience so many things at once," In any case, should I remind him that he was also partly responsible? I mean, can't he think about what he did to me? I am bloody pathetic, and he continued,
"When I regained my senses on that day, the first thing that came to mind was how the hell I was going to give you a miserable death where you must suffer in agony till your last breath and where you should feel shame and remorse for the crime you have committed. I have thought of so many ways, like capturing you and imprisoning you for life without giving anything, or stabbing you till you are bloody and die. On the other hand, if I am not mistaken, you have prepared for every possible strike from my side, right? For the past few days, I have been fucking thinking about what I should do to you where you will suffer and anxiously wait for your death to arrive soon, and I have thought of so many ways none of them are making me satisfied, so Mr. Walker, tell me how miserable your death should be, which should be full of suffering, it should take you by surprise, and it should be unique. You know, the irony part is that whenever I am thinking of something, I am thinking from your point of view, which means I started to think like a shithole as you".
In this whole conversation, I was trying to breathe steadily so as not to show my weakness, but I was not able to control this sweat. Bloody AC is working or not, and I was not getting it. My legs started to shake whenever he spoke of death. My breath would catch for a few seconds. If I stay like this for a few more minutes, I will start showing my symptoms one by one. He was staring, expecting some reaction from my side. Like, hell, I would react after a few minutes, he said.
"Go and get me a coffee." Is he asking for a coffee in this situation? Did I hear him right? "What?" "Go and get coffee, you bloody fucking bastard?" By saying those words, he threw something towards me, and I dodged in time. By a second, I missed it. What the hell? I was breathing heavily, and I saw him. He was burning in fury. If I stayed one more second, he would stab me to death. I replied, "Ok," and ran from his cabin.
When I came out of his cabin, I was wiping my sweat and trying to control my breath. Oh god, it was like I went into hell for a few minutes and came alive. After gaining consciousness, my biggest question in front of me was: What type of coffee would he prefer? I would not dare to go in. Pondering over the situation, I made my way towards the coffee maker. When I was on my way, I saw Simon. What perfect timing! I stopped him and spoke.
"What type of coffee does Mr. Mathew like?"; "What?"; "What type of coffee he likes, I mean sugar and everything"; "Black coffee with one teaspoon of sugar"; "OK, thank you"; "Why are you serving coffee for him?"; "You are going to meet Mr. Mathew, right? Please ask him and let me know.".
By replying that I left, Simon was so helpful to me for the first time. I started preparing coffee after 4 cups, and I was quite satisfied with the 5th one, so I took the same and made my way towards Scott's cabin, went inside, kept my coffee cup near him, and came back as far as I could because the ratio of throwing coffee on my face was more than drinking, and I didn't think he would observe my movements.
He took one sip and threw it on the ground, replying that it was tasteless and as pathetic as me and informing me to prepare another one. Before exiting his cabin, I thought of asking how he wanted his coffee, but from the time I entered his cabin, words were not coming out, so without uttering a word, I left.
I nearly prepared another 15 cups, and he was not satisfied with any, but at last, he spared me as he had a meeting to attend, and thank God for that.