Don't Forget

☪ Chapter 2| The Journey ☪

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Despite my protests and screams, no one let me back into the building.

I looked back at the massive industry before me, the one I  was no longer part of My father's body guards dragged me outside, giving me sad, pitying looks.

"Come on guys!" I begged them, "please!"

I saw people execute their work cubicles just to see me be evacuated, thrashing between two muscular men, my humiliation open for the world to see.

I suppose I do a pretty darn good job of humiliating myself, though. The jelly doughnut stain was still on my shirt for full display.

I knew some of the workers, some I didn't. They all seemed slightly fazed by my removal. This should approve the rumors that go around about my father being cold and heartless. Only someone as cold and heartless as him could cast away his own son.

People stared at me, some looked slightly amused, others pitying. I felt the oddest urge to curl up into the shadows and disappear. I looked over to my office at the other side of the room, the door wavering due to the wind. Would it be the last time I see my beloved office?

I knew that I wasn't perfect. Neither was I handsome, or strong, or clever, or any of the things my father wanted me to be. But this was a little harsh, wasn't it? Throwing your own son out to some underdeveloped country!

I struggled in both bodyguards' steely grips, praying that any second my father would come out and tell them to stop, telling that it was just a warning, but nothing happened.

Absolutely nothing.

I've been warned countless times by my father. He doesn't let me live a day without pointing out my imperfections. Perhaps that's what created the giant crater that rips our relationship again, the cater deepening even further with the time after Mom's death.

I instead of being outraged, I was more in a state of shock and denial. Terrible denial. Even if I am an exemplary klutz, I have done great things for this company. I've signed various contracts which helped us in millions. I've done things to keep my family name afloat!

And that was still never good enough for my father. It was impossible to please the man. I'm sure in all his years of working, he never said thank you to an employee once. I'm sure that if he had his way, we would all be slaves.

I felt rips tighten along my shoulders, making me yelp with pain, the intense pressure was too much for me to bear. I saw Miranda pop out of the coffee shop, probably hearing my struggle, to give me a sad look, throwing me a mock salute.

I felt the bodyguards' roughly pat me before swinging me out of the doors, throwing my small body in comparison to them.

I landed face-fist on the cold, hard pavement. I felt my face sear with pain while icy shards of snow whipped at my face. I grumbled in pain while the automatic doors closed to a shut.

"No!" I begged, trying to pick myself up from the hard cement. I stumbled at first, then ran over, a bit of a limp in my step, towards the glass doors, banging on them with my scraped palms.

"Please! Let me in!" I howled, but the doors refused to budge, standing still. They must have locked the place from the inside.

I don't know how long I stood there, banging wistfully in hope of a rescue. The false hope that someone would come to help me kept on resurfacing in my mind. I choked in the cold winter air, my breaths colliding with the cold air to condense as steam upon the glass automatic doors.

I could feel a sob well up in my throat, but I quickly choked it back. My father always told me that men never cried, and that I was a disgrace to mankind if I did.