The weekend is here, finally, and for the first time in weeks, Daniel Reyes experienced what it was to feel the freedom of it, to make him even think lightly of the previous week's burden. The sun's rays cast lines from blinds across his small apartment, together with the air conditioner's purring, mixing well with muffled noises of outer streets. His eyes fixed intently on his laptop screen, his fingers dexterously typing away as he played his game, Eternal Horizons Online, his escape, his haven, his sanctuary, his place where quests obviously began and obviously ended, in contrast to his work as a Nurse at Greenwood Medical Clinic.
He was deep into a dungeon raid, coordinating his attacks with his fellow players, when his phone buzzed across his otherwise empty desk. He looked down to see what it could be, noticing it was his supervisor, Marissa Kline, calling him. Daniel didn't feel like dealing with this, as most of her calls led to him having to work even longer hours than usual, or to correct a trivial mistake in procedure, which he lacked patience for at this time.
An hour passed in a blur of spells, enemy attacks, and Daniel's character hovering at the end of his limits as his guild members struggled to work out a team effort over voice chat. Finally, after what felt like an eternal wait, the final boss fell to a satisfying ring of triumph, after which Daniel leaned back to stretch his weary limbs. His phone buzzed for a third time. The screen flashed with another message from Marissa. He hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly answered, a mix of intrigue and trepidation racing in his breast.
"Daniel, this is Marissa," she said, using a calm tone that didn't ring quite true. "I'm calling to tell you that you're discharged. The news came from above; You're not to return."
The words fell into his chest like a weight of ice. He blinked, wondering if he should say something in reply. The truth was, he wasn't really shocked by what she'd said.
"sure," He answered her anyway, his tone flat, almost removed. He didn't have anything in him for this conversation anyway. He didn't even wait for her to answer, just hung up the phone.
He sat for a moment, his eyes fixed upon the wall. There was a twinge of disappointment, but he shook his head, remembering the years of being undervalued as an employee, twelve-hour workdays, little in the way of overtime compensation, a constant haranguing to work longer hours by a supervisor who took obvious glee in wringing as much labor as possible from employees. He probably did get fired for having turned down her offer to work extra shifts last week, Daniel growled to himself, his mind conjuring up an image of Marissa's smug face as she'd spoken to him.
The next morning, he woke up to find himself in the HR office of Greenwood Medical; the fluorescent lights appeared slightly more harsh here, and he could detect an antiseptic, paper odor in the air. Behind the reception desk, a young woman named Emily lifted her head from her computer screen.
"Good morning, Daniel. Can I help?"
"I. I received a call yesterday from Marissa," Daniel began cautiously. "She told me I'm discharged, but I haven't completed my contract yet. I wanted to know what this means."
Emily's face softened, but her tone remained formal. "There's a resignation letter to be turned in, of course. As for compensation, I'm afraid we won't be able to honor the remaining two months' pay, but day off pay is payable as per procedure, of course. Greenwood is known for this; I think I'd advise against pushing things to an end, if I may."
Daniel nodded, his look a combination of resignation and irritation. Of course. The reputation of this clinic for squashing those who used to work for them was no secret either. He wasn't going to jeopardize his chances by taking them on either. Time to cut his losses and leave quietly.
Later that day, he penned his resignation letter. This was even more surreal, a passing-rite to mark an end to a chapter he never really wanted to end. He said his good-byes to a few of his co-workers who had been kind to him. Leah, another nurse who always had his back during those impossible shifts; Jessica, a receptionist who always brightened his day with her smile.
"Take care, Daniel," Leah said quietly. "You'll do well, wherever you go."
Jessica lingered for a moment, her fingers twisting nervously around the edge of the desk. "Good luck. I hope everything goes well. Maybe contact me later."
He walked out of the clinic with an uncanny sense of lightness, sticking his resignation letter inside his bag as a symbol of his newfound liberty. Days later, of course, came the work attestation, looking fresh from a photocopier, a silent statement of his newfound freedom from Greenwood Medical, at least in writing.
He spent a week looking for a new job, scanning advertisements, sending applications, until finally, a call came from a clinic for an interview. This is promising, he told himself, dressing up, preparing answers to common questions in his mind, and going into this small structure of Rosewood Health Center. The interview flowed smoothly, discussing his experience as well as his views about patient care, as inquired by the director of this facility.
Then, the message came:
"We appreciate your interest in working with us, but we will not be employing you as there were reports against you from your previous workplace regarding unprofessional conduct."
Daniel's eyes widened as he took in what he was looking at. Greenwood Medical didn't like him speaking out against them. He had planned to leave quietly, but now all his hard work to leave unnoticed had gone down the drain. He felt his anger mixed with his regrets brewing in his chest as he wondered, "I should have fought them, I should have made them pay for this kind of treatment."
That night, Daniel wasn't home; he'd gone out, unable to resist the pressure building up in his chest. City lights flashed quickly past the windshield of his car as he headed to a quiet pub he'd been to in the past. The buzz of conversation, the sound of glasses, the hint of alcohol and food frying in an oil vat, this noisy chaos he knew well, much like his troubled mind.
He ordered a drink, strong, bitter, hot, downing it slowly, as he savored in his mouth the stinging bite of bitterness which lingered long after he'd swallowed. The pub throbbed with noise: laughter ringing off walls, ice chinking in glasses, muted conversation humming in accompaniment to music drifting from hidden speakers. Daniel's eyes roamed incuriously, taking in faces, taking in tables, until they lit upon a man at the far end of the bar. He drank, vocalizing his laughter recklessly, his wildly gesturing hand spilling an almost full glass, pouring beer down the counter.
There was something about this man, his careless arrogance, his air of occupying a room as if he didn't have to, which pushed Daniel's buttons. His jaw clenched.
"Just ignore it," he told himself. "Just ignore it."
However, the drink began to burn his throat, combining with the fire of his anger, as well as his simmering rage from the past week. A wave of lava-like emotion began to build inside him, but Daniel's lips curled into a small, biting smile as he spoke, barely audible enough for his adversary to hear.
"It looks as if you could use a crash course in drink-holding," he drawled, his tone mean but even.
The man's head turned to him sharply, his eyes narrowing. He grunted, a noise that was as much annoyance as challenge. That spark of recognition was like fuel to him. Daniel leaned forward, his movements slow and deliberate; he took a sip of his drink, enjoying the bite of it, and began to speak his words again, louder this time, tinged with mockery.
"Careful, you might spill more than your beer next time," he said, allowing his harsh tone to linger between them.
The man's jaw spasmed, and he mumbled gibberish to himself. Daniel didn't give him an inch. He observed as his body stiffened, as the pulse in his temple began to throb, but he continued relentlessly.
"Seriously, because of how awkward you are, perhaps someone ought to get that drink away from you before you break another person's evening for them," he added deliberately, taking pleasure in watching his remarks rankle at his rival's ego.
The man's face turned red, from alcohol as much as from his increasing anger, as his hand pounded against the bar, causing what little beer he had to rock in his glass. "You got a problem, kid?" he growled.
Daniel's pulse began to race, fear and elation mixing together in him in a confusing swirl of emotions. 'This is utter nonsense,' he told himself, but his frustration, his impotent rage at having been betrayed, at having been brought to this place, surged up in him as well. He couldn't hold back now.
"Yeah, I've got a problem," Daniel said, leaning in close, his tone honed to a sharp edge. "I've had an entire week of people thinking they dare to mess with me. And, yeah, you just happen to be the closest one. Sorry about that."
"well....I don't care what you've been to, through. You should not drink. If you can't control your mouth, I will beat you!" The man's hands were trembling slightly as he reached for his beer, his eyes hardening. Daniel's own hands lay flat upon the bar, in readiness, but he did not draw back. He allowed his insults to pour forth, taunting, egging, pushing as many weak spots as he could find.
"Seriously, are you always this obnoxious, or is this a special kind of night?" Daniel asked, his language spitting from his lips in perfectly calculated precision. "Bet they can't stand you either, huh? Or maybe they don't even know who you are."
A snarl burst from the man, hot and biting. "You think you're clever, huh?" he sneered, taking a step closer. He met his gaze head-on, his adrenaline-fueled bloodstream humming in his veins.
'I shouldn't be doing this,' he told himself, his smile twisted in a snake's grin of venomous intent. "Clever? Me? I'm just sick of people, and you probably have a daughter you beat up every night at home."
The man's face turned red, fists clenched at his sides. Daniel leaned in slightly again, relentless, taunting, knowing he was pushing his limits but unable to stop.
"You know, maybe if you spent less time trying to appear so impressive, and more time figuring out how to deal with a single drink without spilling it, you'd. actually make it through the night without giving your wife a blue eye, junky,"Daniel continued, his tone low but biting enough to cut through the music and laughter surrounding them.
The man's eyes were blazing with anger. He pushed his chair backward, spilling his beer, and took a step forward, his hands raised. Daniel could feel his heartbeat spike, a strange rush of both pleasure and fear.
He could feel the dynamic of the bar shifting, people's eyes turned in his direction, tension radiating in the air. Daniel's lips twisted into that sneer, that ironic smile, as he whispered tauntingly, every word laced with poison.
"Or maybe you're all show, huh? A big noisy mess, stumbling around because somebody calls you on it?" The man's fists clenched, a growl building in his throat, as Daniel took another step toward him, his eyes locked, his adrenaline rushing to a boil.
He was riding a razor's edge of his own rage, his own outrage, when the punch came, before he even realized what his intent was, even as he planned to throw a punch of his own, to shout, to do anything, to answer this outrage in kind, this total, utter injustice! The punch connected, full in his jaw, before he even could raise his head from his intent gaze at this man, this creature, this- this- This time, he was dealt a full, hot, blinding, white white explosion of agony up across his head, his face, as he staggered backward, going down, going under, his senses tumbling into chaos, into black into nothing.
'I didn't even see this coming.'
All noise stopped.