The Traitors Charm

Chapter 1

"What do you mean Joe?" My voice sounded foreign, even to my ears. I clutched the paper in my fist, as I glared UV rays into my boss' eyes.

Joe scratched his nearly bald head and sighed. "What I mean is, Ciph, just read that paper." I began to tremble with rage. The pencil heels were a bad idea because I felt compelled to kick his face into the following year.

"What the hell is that?!" I shouted. "I've worked like a dog for 5 freakin' years in this worthless shithouse of a publisher, and you decide to fire me now of all times?! "What's the deal with that?"

Joe's sunken eyes weighed with tiredness, and for a moment, just a moment, I felt the smallest amount of pity for the man. "I have no say in the matter Ciph". What?

"Huh?"

He rubbed his temples and averted his gaze from mine. "Because you are a liability to this company, the board has decided to fire you." The blood in my veins froze. L-liability? In my hand, I crumpled the paper.

"Don't mess with me!" I screamed and threw the crumpled paper in his face. "I hope you all rot in hell. And that goes for all of you!!" I threw one last glare dagger at my ex-boss, before turning on my heel and storming out.

This happened a week ago.

I snuggled deeper under the covers, my hand occasionally reaching out to the carton of juice on the bedside cabinet. I sniffled and groaned, as my head pounded the source of my dilemma. Joblessness. I'm jobless. My loans are pending. I groaned again, louder this time.

"Shut your trap Ciphora, or God help me, I will murder you!" Becca's shrill voice pierced like a knife into my consciousness, making me sit up in fright. Oh. She was working on her channel. I shouldn't disturb her.

I tiptoed my way to the bathroom, trying to make as little noise as possible. Because, as much as I loved my best friend, I was occasionally afraid of her. Most of the time, that is.

I gaped at the person in the mirror. My hair was a haystack on my head, and my eyes were red and puffy. It's been almost a week since I last showered. Ha, figures. I sniffed the oversized sweatshirt I was wearing and grimaced. Yep, I needed a shower ASAP.

As the hot water cascaded down my back, my mind glossed over what happened at the office. I had anticipated that they would fire a few employees, but I never imagined that I would be one of them. On the other hand, I could figure out what they were thinking. Why keep the company open when it was almost non-existent in the public eye? For both employees and employers, it would be beneficial if they shut it down.

I got dressed, in an off-shoulder camisole and shorts before heading down. The living room was, as usual, thoroughly messy. Although today, the vase which usually sat on the round table in front of the sofa, was lying face down on the carpet in a million pieces. And someone was stomping on the dried flowers as though the flowers tried to kill them or something.

"What the hell Becks?" I chortled, as I surveyed the chaotic scene. My best friend's hair was in a fritz, and one of her ankles was wrapped in a bloody bandage, which was still stamping on the broken pieces and flowers. Ouch.

Her eyes looked a little crazy as she snapped her neck towards me. "Are you okay?" I asked, genuine concern mapping my features.

She nodded, before adjusting her laptop and going back to her work. I frowned, still concerned but then I headed off in the direction of the kitchen, planning to make a steaming cup of coffee.

"So," Becca's voice echoed right behind me, making me jump. "Jesus, don't scare me like that," I said, placing a hand over my racing heart. The other held two cups of steaming coffee, as I walked towards the kitchenette.

"You finally decided to stop moping." It wasn't a statement. I sipped the coffee and frowned. "What do you mean, moping?" I mumbled. She sighed loudly.

"You can't sit still like this forever Ciph," she began, her words echoing in my head. "You know, your loans are exactly-"

"I know Becca, I know!" I cut her off and gulped down large sips of the coffee. "I'm terrified Becks," I finally said, playing with the edges of the table cloth. "Of being jobless, not paying my loans, and everything else."

"Well," she began. I looked up at her. She was skimming through her phone, a small smile curving the corners of her mouth. I raised an eyebrow.

"One of my cousins had come to me about this post at this company," she began. "almost half a month ago, asked if I was interested."

"And?" I pressed.

"I said no. It was the post of administrative assistant to the creative director or something. Since it was more up your alley..." she shrugged, leaving the rest up to me. I gasped.

"Oh my god!" I grinned like mad at her, jumping up and down in happiness. She smiled at my enthusiasm. "They're interviewing on Monday if you're interested." At that, I skipped over, and wrapped her up in a warm hug, squealing a thousand thank you's in her ear.

"Whoa, slow down girl," she laughed lightly, hugging me back. "There's one more thing Ciph," she said, the seriousness returning to her voice. I nodded at her to continue, the smile never leaving my lips.

She limped over to the sink and washed her cup before continuing

"This company, it's," she paused, and sighed, "Blackwell Enterprises and..." the rest of what she said faded into the background, as my mind thrummed with that one word. Blackwell. Blackwell.

My brain pulsed with the memories that came flooding in. It was his legacy. He was the head. It'd been seven years since I last thought about him seriously. I'd watched his gradual rise to power, as his social media exploded, as he practically became a business celebrity, but I'd done it as a bystander, as someone who didn't know him. And I didn't. I didn't know him at all.

"Hey, are you even listening?" Becca's sharp voice brought me out of my world. "What did you say?" I asked, blinking furiously.

"I said, you don't have to go if you're uncomfortable." I shook my head. "No, it's fine. The pay's good, the loans will get paid. That's all I have to know." And that company wasn't small. And he was at the very top of the chain. There would be less than zero chances of actually bumping into him. For all I knew, he wouldn't know I was even employed in his company. I was counting on that.

There were no specialties on Sunday, just us girls ordering takeout and watching cliché movies nonstop. It had become something of a tradition for me, and I relished it. My mind was preoccupied with something else this Sunday. Someone else, more like.

Every time I saw his face whether it was in a tv interview, or an ad, the pinprick of guilt that pierced my façade always made me wince. Deep in my heart, I'd always known that he was innocent. Yet I chose to believe the circumstantial evidence. And Jake had convinced me when he sent me the video. I was the one who betrayed him. The one who hurt him. Now I have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.