"Well, getting a mental health issue is not that bad," the guy said. Debbie was surprised to hear the most ridiculous statement of her life.
"What? Come again?" she muttered, asking, but she definitely heard it clearly.
"What did you just say? A mental health issue is not that bad. Yeah, of course. I agree with you. Thinking and feeling you are worthless and unwanted is not that bad; wanting to take your life is not that bad; depression, anxiety, panic attacks, hallucinations, and schizophrenia are just ridiculous things. Maybe trauma? It's not a big deal, really!" she almost popped.
"Sorry for this," she apologized before continuing. It's just that THAT IS THE MOST stup*d thing I've heard. "Yes, some people are overreacting, but not everyone does. In fact, science has proven that the brain hormones can affect our psychological thinking, even our emotions and moods," she said.
"Well, you are right, but being diagnosed can make you a PWD. Who knows, maybe you can afford the priority lane?" he said.
She stopped. She has been living in fear ever since. Who would have thought that her condition would be beneficial? "Yeah, you made a point. I haven't thought of that."
The junior guy's name is Ten. He said, "You are always warm and friendly yet sometimes aloof and tactless. You express emotions in reasons. Who would have thought you would defend emotion coldly? That is somewhat a very warm approach."
"You will definitely interact with the newbie soon. He doesn't know anything about the work yet, so he needs more guidance. I don't know him well, either, but please, it is not right to judge a book by its cover," he added before he left.
She returned to her desk. She missed a point.
"I heard from the news that there is another storm moving towards our area. That's why it is typically gloomy outside." Her co-workers were chattering when she returned.
She still has 20 minutes before the end of her lunch break. Unfortunately, she runs out of headache meds and needs to buy them outside, so she hastily moves on her feet to get them. One of her coworkers reminded her to bring an umbrella. So, she hastens.
What seems to be very scary during stormy days? It must be the trees that are standing tall while being swayed violently by the winds, yet that is not the only concern right now.
She sensed something; this time, Debbie could smell it. It is like a feeling that you can inhale. The normal sensation integration happens by smelling the actual scent, and then the stimulus will travel inward, and the brain will do the integration. This sense of smell is inhaling without the actual smell, but you can determine what the scent is, either good or evil, with the discernment inside. There is a smoky, suffocating smell (without any smoke in actuality) that she can't help but wipe and cover her nose because of the irritation. She looks around to where the smoky smell is coming from; as she looks around and then upwards, she sees the clouds of the storm coming. It is enormously visible, but the threat is something invisible.
There is a smoke of death that comes together with it, and it even extends, reaching the ground. The spirit of death is different; the angel of death is one thing, but dominion is something critical. When dominion comes into a place, it will be the residing issue in the area. When the dominion of rape, violence, drugs, or even murder lived in a place. The place became enriched with such cases. Death will dwell in the land. However, since the storm is temporary, there is a chance that it will go away with it because it arrives with it as well. Who knows? The question will be answered when the storm leaves.
She goes back to working, finding 10 minutes over lunch. For someone who is taking care of her numbers, it is a big deal.
It started to rain really hard outside. People were asked to evacuate in certain areas; some are stranded in floods in other areas. The others stay at the building for the next shift, and Debbie is definitely going home after her shift. Who cares if it's raining or not? It will definitely stop soon. It is not like she has to rush home because of her pet cat. Sailor Moon is gone now. She just wants to go home, and there are other flood-proof routes she can take to reach home, maybe after the mandatory overtime.
The light of the room is quite dim in the other areas, probably due to the energy-saving technique of the company, since she is the only one who is in the area working overtime. Some lights are partial. She is finishing some other parts and doing other projects. So, waiting was not a concern; time passed without her noticing.
A few minutes more, the papers and pen suddenly fell on the table. She was the only one left on the floor. She ignores, however, tumblers that fell, scissors, and even piles of documents that she needs to stand up and fix. 'That's weird,' she thought, but she can't leave it on the floor. Will she be diagnosed with OCPD? probably no.
When the falling off the table becomes violent or aggressive, she stops fixing it.
Instead, she left it on the table beside her locks her computer, and ran towards the door.
The door slammed on its own, locked. So, there is no running away.
The sound of things and the lights turning on and off is happening behind her, and she cannot turn around to look. She started to pray in her murmuring, indistinct words; her whole body was cold and trembling. Debbie wished it were only a dream, or rather, that she had just gone severely crazy. Then, it became quiet. There is no other choice but to slowly turn around and face the truth.
It will be bad to be dragged from behind. So she turned around and leaned on the door with her eyes shut. She can feel the movement of the creature inside that room. How it lingers across and moves closer to her. This one is not a spirit of death; it is a demon that leaks from the cracks of hell's door. If it can manifest in the physical, it is probably high ranking. Who knows? What matters most is to leave the place and cut it off so it won't follow her home.
She doesn't need any additional borders.
She is so frightened that she is not able to scream. It's hilarious that she was still able to pray rather than tremble to death. No one can help her.
Then a gust of wind was felt, accompanied by smoke, although she was unable to see it, but she sensed it. She can sense the condition of the place as if she were a bug with an antenna.
When she noticed the sudden change, she slowly opened her eyes, and a man was standing there. His face is so vivid; he is tall, his eyes are glowing like gold, and his plain linen never hinders such beauty.
He looks like an angel but appears like a beast. Fierce and strong, an overwhelming yet wild devouring aura.
Was he a higher-ranking one? Not all evil spirits or demons that look like monsters have beautiful faces, especially the high-ranking ones. His presence doesn't shout "enemy," nor does it say he is a good comrade.
Debbie sat on the floor, relieved.
'That face looks so familiar,' she thought. She was dumbfounded as she realized.
Was she then thinking, 'Thank God, I am safe,' or rather, 'Who and what the hell is this one, this time? '
The next morning after the terrible storm, she went to the props department and saw the same face in the room. Their coworkers introduce her to the newbie.
"Liam," he said, introducing himself.
"He is an angel," he stated with a serious expression. Then everyone starts laughing, treating his statement as a confident joke, but not her.
She will do the same if it isn't the face of the man who saved her yesterday.
"You look like a beast to me," Debbie stated, though it appears too frank and a little bit rude. She was right. He has this dominating beast aura.
"Do you mean beastly hot?" Their coworker twisted the conversation into a light joke.
'There is nothing funny about everything that is happening right now,' she thought.