Chapter 3

3

“Leaving work on time is a problem now? I’m sick. I’m going to the hospital.”

The secretary smirked. “Oh, please. I haven’t used that excuse since grade school.”

Sarah chimed in, her voice ice cold. “Just do your work, Mark. Whatever “illness” you have can wait. We don’t pay you to sit around doing nothing.” She sounded harsher to me than to any other employee.

Sweat dripped down my forehead. I dropped the files at their feet and turned to walk away. "Whoever wants to do it, can do it. I’m done."

“You’re fired.”

“Mark! Are you insane? I correct you, and this is how you react?”

“Don’t bother, Sarah,” the secretary sneered. “Some people are just low-class. You can’t polish a turd.”

Ethan stepped in, playing the peacemaker. “Enough, Karen. That’s not appropriate. Mark's…position notwithstanding, regardless of his performance, you will show him respect.”

Condescending jerk.

I gathered my things, ignoring their snickers, shoving everything into a cardboard box. My hand was shaking so badly, I dropped the box, scattering my belongings at Ethan's feet.

He looked down at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “Need some help, Mark? I can be charitable.”

“He’s just trying to get your attention, Sarah,” Karen said, “hoping you’ll feel sorry for him and take him back.”

As I knelt, gathering my things, Sarah suddenly spoke. “Mark, is your arm hurting?”

I didn’t answer, sweat stinging my eyes.

She grabbed my arm. “Let me see!”

I pushed her away. “No.”

Ethan caught Sarah, then punched me in the face. “Don’t you dare touch her, you ungrateful piece of…”

I stumbled, pain shooting through my arm. My sleeve ripped, exposing the angry, red, infected scar.

Everyone went silent.

Sarah’s eyes filled with tears. “The hospital. Now. Come on.”

I gave a weak smile, found some string to tie up the box, and walked away, dragging it behind me.

Sarah started to follow, then stopped with a cry. “Ethan? What’s wrong?”

He clutched his head, his face contorted in pain. “Nothing…just a headache…forgot my medication.”

Karen rushed to his side. “Sarah, it’s my fault! I forgot to remind him! He works so hard…his migraines are acting up again. From his time studying abroad.”

“The hospital! Now! I’ll drive.”

As I turned the corner, I could still hear the commotion, and I laughed, a bitter, painful laugh, as I dragged my box away, alone.