Crimson Lies

5. The calm before the storm - Part 2

At last, I managed to gather a bit of courage, took a deep breath, and unsurely lifted my head to meet his gaze. My heart pounded in my chest like a gong that heralded my end, as our eyes locked. The expression unreadable but intense. He towered over me like a skyscraper, his presence dominating the entire room, making everything and everyone around us seem as insignificant as he thought it actually was. If so much as a pin dropped at that very moment, it would sound like an explosion, sweeping the whole town under its ruins. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dorry and the others standing in the entry hall, their heads bowed, trying to make themselves as invisible as possible. Not one of them dared to glance in my direction. The tension, palpable and suffocating, was sucking the air out of our lungs. It made everyone still their breath, awaiting the sentence to be pronounced. I parted lips, despite the pain, to try to reason with him, but he cut me off before I could form a sentence.

"Don't. There's not one thing you could say that will excuse your actions." His voice tumbled low as he bit his fist, struggling to keep himself composed, but failed. "How could you? How dare you?" He hissed, his words laced with raw, unfiltered emotion. 

He was right. Whatever he was going to say, he was right. There was not one thing I could do to justify what I'd done back in England. It was a choice I had consciously made, knowing full well what the scope of the consequences might hold for me, if I was ever found out. 

The gravity of my poor actions hung in the air between us, an invisible wall of guilt and regret that I couldn't break down, no matter how much I wished I could. Every fiber of my being wanted to say something, to make it all better, but deep down, I knew words were powerless in the face of his anger. And even if I had the chance to explain, to truly be heard—would I? 

If I was being completely honest with myself, the answer would probably be no. Because telling the whole truth meant unearthing secrets we'd buried, exposing everything we had fought to keep hidden. And that was a risk I vowed I wouldn't take. So I stayed silent.

In every person's life, there's that one moment where you are the purest version of yourself—the day you're born. Your birthday. It's a fleeting, innocent state, untouched by the world's complexities and your own choices. However, nature always tries to maintain a certain balance, and it often times comes in the form of retribution. That's the day when all your actions, leading up to now, catch up to you, and there's no place left to run. I call this doomsday. Today was mine.

---

5 hours earlier.

"I don't know about this. You haven't even graduated, and we have one more candidate for the position." The woman in the huge, dull office space responded with uncertainty, her voice wavering as she shuffled through papers on her desk. I had finally made it downtown, still riding the high of the stunt I'd just pulled, only to be greeted by an "Open Position" sign outside the local newspaper building. It felt like the universe was aligning just for me. I even considered buying one of those lottery tickets they sell at the convenience store, that's how good my luck seemed to be.

But all that quickly faded when I stepped inside to inquire about the so-called open position. My heart sank as I learned they were looking for a full-fledged journalist, which respectfully, I believed I was. However, little Mrs. I-look-like-a-girlboss-Stepford-wife with the bouncy blonde bob and pearls wasn't so convinced. All because I didn't have that precious diploma "just yet." The frustration bubbled up inside me, but I kept my face neutral. I'd been prepared for pushback; it was understandable. But giving up on a technicality does not a journalist make. Journalism is about persistence, digging deeper, and finding a way through the fog of misinformation. Getting to the bottom of everything. That's why I fell in love with it. If I couldn't fight for this, how could I fight for a story?