Was My Life Worth It?
This was a question I had been asking myself for years, a constant murmur in the tumult of my mind.
I couldn't say my existence had been just a succession of misfortunes.
I had met incredible people and experienced moments of genuine joy.
But the hope that tomorrow would be a better day... was it really worth depriving myself, working tirelessly, and saving every last penny, just to hope for a decade of peace before death?
Life was a cruel and unpredictable joke.
I could very well die, hit by a car, as I walked out of this office.
Was I living, or just surviving?
And most of all, did I truly love this life I had?
"Mr. Trevor! Mr. Trevor! Can you hear me?"
The piercing voice of the person sitting across from me brutally jolted me out of my thoughts.
The cool air from the air conditioner, which had been soothing me until now, was now making my skin crawl. The news I was about to hear awakened an old anxiety within me, a dull panic that threatened to overwhelm me.
"Ah... yes, of course!"
I was lost. Completely. I wasn't even in the room anymore; I was somewhere else, in the tangled mess of my own misery.
But reality caught up to me.
I was being fired.
"So, as I was saying, Mr. Trevor, we don't see any reason to keep your position within our company. The decision is final."
I gritted my teeth, a guttural sound that echoed in the silence of the office.
It was ironic. I didn't even work here out of passion.
I had started ten years ago, when this company was just an unpretentious little startup.
I had put my heart and soul into this job; I had taken it upon myself to learn everything necessary because it was my only refuge.
I had given myself body and soul, and contributed like crazy to their growth.
I was a part of this company. And now, they felt they could throw me away like an old, worn-out rag.
Rage climbed up my throat.
If only the director himself had taken the trouble to come and tell me!
That man, when he launched this project, the team was understaffed, and I had to learn on the job, devouring complex technical information just to meet the demands.
It was for him that I had pushed myself.
But no.
It was this guy, a stranger whose original branch I didn't even know, who was telling me.
A stranger, sitting in the place of the man I had put my trust in, telling me I had become useless.
"You can't do this!" I blurted out, my voice trembling with poorly contained anger.
"I've contributed so much to this company! Even the salary I earn isn't worth all the effort I've put in!"
I don't even have access to the rights I'm owed, and I can't complain anywhere!
The name on the business card on his desk meant nothing to me. My brain was desperately looking for a way out, a solution—anything.
My fingers trembled on my thighs, as if they wanted to cling to hope at all costs.
He looked at me with a cold, emotionless gaze.
"Mr. Trevor, resorting to the argument of salary or effort is useless.
This is a business, and if you stayed here for so long, it's because you had something to gain.
If this situation displeased you so much, you would have left a long time ago."
On that point, he wasn't wrong. I should have left.
I should have fled this place.
But I lacked skills.
The fact that I had stayed for so long in this single company had dulled my knowledge, had made me an expert in such a specific field that I had become a dinosaur outside these walls.
What other job could I have?
I wasn't even a graduate. I didn't have a network. I was a thirty-three-year-old man with no future.
"But why am I being fired so suddenly? I don't understand..." I stammered. My words meant nothing, even to me. Deep down, I knew it was my last day here.
"Suddenly? The complaints against you have only been piling up, not to mention those stories of harassment towards actresses and other staff members."
I froze.
The accusation was like a slap in the face, a low blow I should have seen coming.
"I assure you I didn't do any of that! They're just trying to slander me! Please, give me a little more time, I beg you!"
I pleaded, dignity gone, despair taking over. I had nothing to do with this harassment story.
I didn't know why a few young recruits were attacking me.
Besides my seniority, I didn't earn more than them, but they hated me so much that a few actresses had followed suit.
All of this had turned into an intimidation campaign and accusations of harassment.
I had been repeatedly accused of obscene behavior, even though it was completely false.
I had endured these humiliations, gritting my teeth and swallowing my pride, so as not to be fired.
I had clung on, justified myself, and bowed my head... and now, they were telling me that none of it had been worth anything.
If I could just gain a little more time... I needed money to survive, to get by, to find another path.
But the harsh reality caught up with me.
"The decision is final, Mr. Trevor. Please leave the premises."
And that's how I was dismissed, without even a chance to fight. My contract, which I had never bothered to read in detail, was void. I had nowhere to complain.
At the time, I was too naive.
I told myself that as long as I was being paid, the rest didn't matter. I never would have imagined spending ten years of my life here, only to find myself now with nothing, not even the confidence to look for another job.
As I walked out of the building, I couldn't control my trembling.
The contrast between the air-conditioned air and the suffocating heat outside was enormous.
"I failed here too," I said to myself, the words choking in my throat.
At thirty-three, I was a man who had failed everywhere, with no friends, no family, and no hope.
As I walked, I tried to put my thoughts in order, to understand where I had gone wrong. It wasn't even a job I could have been proud of, and even that was taken from me.
I looked up at the sky, a normal blue summer sky. That's when a sharp scream snapped me out of my daze. I nervously looked left and right. The parking lot was absolutely normal. A stretch of gray concrete, cars parked in neat rows, and the heavy air of asphalt heated by the sun. Had I hallucinated?
Then, all of a sudden, the scenery changed. Not for good, just for an instant. A flash so fast I thought my eyes had betrayed me. When I blinked, I was still in the parking lot. Had the shock damaged my head? I laughed with self-deprecation, a bitter, joyless laugh.
I took one step, then another, heading toward the exit. But I heard those screams again, louder, more terrifying, like screams of death.
"That's it, I've gone crazy."
I closed my eyes, then opened them. And this time, there was no turning back. The scenery I had glimpsed in a flash was now my only reality.
I was no longer in a parking lot.
The pungent smell of blood and ash rose to my nostrils, turning my stomach. The sound of metal striking other metal was deafening. I was in the middle of a battlefield.