FOREVER LIES

Part 24

Lisa

To snowball: to grow or become larger, greater, more intense, etc., at an accelerating rate.

The term is not innately good or bad. Sometimes, 'snowball' can be used to describe a series of fortunate events, such as 'the young actor's career snowballed after his appearance in an Oscar-winning film.' Other times, the term can imply a much more catastrophic unraveling of events. In these instances, the term might conjure the image of an avalanche, rather than the friendly snowman it might otherwise invoke. The tiny bits of snow at the top of a mountain peaceably tumble until they gather enough steam and become an unstoppable force of nature.

For the innocent victim in its path, there is no escape.

The only hope for survival is luck.

As the ground shakes and the massive white cloud comes barreling down the mountainside, those in its path can only brace themselves and hope it will be enough. The tricky thing about an avalanche—you never know when one might strike. One minute, you're sampling the fresh mountain air, enjoying the view, and the next, you're buried six feet under, unable to breathe from the suffocating weight of all the tiny snowflakes.

If ever there was a perfect day for an avalanche, it would be a Monday.

I had dreaded that first day back at work but was armed with a plan, so my nerves were contained within reason. Before I went to my office, I rode the elevator directly to the ninth floor and marched to the HR suite. The receptionist wasn't at her desk, but a peek around the corner told me the employees were gathered in a circle in a small breakroom, raptly discussing something.

"I'm sorry to interrupt—I was hoping someone could help me with a private matter."

"Not a problem, dear," said the older woman who worked at the front desk. "We were just talking about what happened over the weekend—so tragic!"

"What happened?" Had I missed a terrorist attack or some other news event? I'd been too busy wrapped in my problems to notice the world around me.

"Yang Hyun-suk was—"

"Seulgi, he was her boss," cut in one of the others.

"Oh," she gasped, her eyes going soft. "I'm so sorry to break this to you, dear, but Mr. Yang was killed on Saturday. It was on all the local news stations; I'm surprised you didn't see." All six pairs of pitying eyes fixed on me, waiting intently for my reaction.

Hyun-suk was dead.

Not just dead, killed.

I was in shock—unable to react because I couldn't process the unexpected news. Instead, I nodded and stumbled from the office. I couldn't go upstairs; I needed somewhere private to think. I found myself back at the elevator, next to which was a maintenance room. Hurrying inside, I closed the door behind me and dropped down to sit on a large cardboard box.

The source of my torment for a solid year was dead.

I was free.

The relief I experienced was so great, I felt physically lighter, almost dizzy. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if it was wrong that I was glad a man had died. Trailing behind that thought was image after image of Hyun-suk's snide face as he commented about my legs or ogled my chest. I could still feel his unwelcome hardness pressed against my backside from days earlier when he very likely would have raped me had Taehyung not arrived.

No, I had every right to rejoice.

Hyun-sk was a disgusting human being, and the world was a better place without him.