TheCruelCut
1079 Words
*Nyra*
I wake up with a stiff neck and a cold floor under my cheek.
For a second, I don’t remember where I am. My eyes flutter open to a ceiling that isn’t mine—pale green paint, a c***k running across it like a crooked scar. Then I roll slightly, and reality comes rushing back.
I’m on the floor of my classmate Aria’s apartment.
A threadbare blanket is tangled around my legs. A pair of her sneakers sits by my head like a silent witness to my humiliation. My box of belongings is pushed against the wall—my whole life stuffed into a single cardboard container.
My throat tightens.
Last night, I came home to find my landlord stacking my things in the hallway like trash.
I had begged. Whispered. Promised to get him the money.
But he just shook his head. “I’ve been patient enough, Nyra. I can’t wait anymore.”
I could feel the stares from behind cracked doors. My neighbors watching me crouch on the dusty floor, stuffing my life into a single box with trembling hands.
I didn’t have the strength to cry. I just… moved. One shirt after another, my second-hand books, my cracked mug, the single pillow that still smelled faintly like home.
I called everyone I could think of.
No one answered.
Then, out of desperation, I called Aria, the girl I’d worked on a group project with last semester. We weren’t close. We weren’t friends. But she answered.
---
Her voice was hesitant. “You… want to crash here? Just for tonight?”
I could hear her boyfriend in the background, saying something under his breath.
“Just tonight,” I whispered. “Please.”
She sighed, and a half-hour later, I was sitting on her scratchy rug, clutching my box while she cleared a space for me in the corner of her living room.
I could feel her boyfriend’s eyes on me, sharp and uncomfortable.
“She’s just… staying the night,” Aria said quickly, like she needed to defend herself.
I kept my head down and murmured a thank you.
I didn’t sleep well. Every creak of the apartment, every muffled laugh from their bedroom, every reminder that I didn’t belong there pressed on my chest like a weight.
---
Now it’s morning, and my body aches from the cold, hard floor. My stomach growls painfully. I gather my things silently, not wanting to overstay my fragile welcome.
Aria emerges from her room in a robe, her hair in a messy bun. She looks surprised to see me awake.
“Heading to work?” she asks, her tone neutral.
“Yes.” I force a small smile. “Thank you again. I—I’ll figure something out soon.”
She nods but doesn’t offer another night.
I don’t expect her to.
---
The city air is sharp as I step onto the street, the box of my belongings awkward in my arms.
I hide the box behind a dumpster before catching the bus—I can’t bring it to the office and let everyone see how far I’ve fallen.
The ride is long and crowded. My head leans against the window as the city blurs past in streaks of silver and gray. My reflection stares back at me: tired eyes, wrinkled blouse, lips cracked from the dry air.
I whisper to myself, “Just get through today.”
---
The elevator dings on the 28th floor, and the familiar chill of Rhys Corp hits me.
I keep my head down as I slip to my desk. I can feel the whispers, the quick glances from the other interns. I’m the quiet one. The one who messes up. The one who looks like a ghost haunting this marble palace.
I start typing, hands shaking, forcing myself to focus even as hunger claws at my stomach and exhaustion drags at my limbs.
And then it happens.
The moment my world caves in.
---
“Miss Nyra. My office. Now.”
Cassian Rhys’s voice slices through the air.
My stomach drops. My chest tightens. I rise on trembling legs and walk into his glass office.
He’s behind his desk, sharp in a black suit, the city skyline spilling behind him like a kingdom he owns. His expression is unreadable—cold, sculpted, merciless.
“Do you know how many mistakes you’ve made this week?” His voice is low, lethal.
“I…” My throat is dry. “I’m sorry, sir. I—”
“Four,” he cuts in. “That I know of. Late twice. Client file error. And now leaving confidential paperwork exposed on your desk overnight.”
I flinch. That wasn’t me. But my voice won’t come.
“This is an executive floor, Miss Nyra. Mistakes like yours cost millions.”
My lips tremble. “Please, sir. I… I need—”
“You’re fired,” he says flatly. “Pack your things and leave. Effective immediately.”
---
The words hit harder than I expect.
My knees wobble. My chest aches. The office spins around me.
I nod slowly, unable to breathe past the lump in my throat.
“Yes… sir.”
I turn and walk out.
The other interns look up as I pass. I keep my head down, clutching my empty hands to my chest like they can shield me from the weight of their stares.
---
*Cassian*
I watch her go.
Her shoulders are stiff, but I can see the tremor in her steps.
I tell myself it was necessary.
She’s a liability. She’s weak. She doesn’t belong in my world.
So why does it feel like I just slammed a door on something I can’t name?
She turns slightly to with a forced smile on her face to bid farewell to the remaining interns who of course are happy to have one rival out of the way and then I see it… the scar on her neck. That scar is a little too familiar.
---
I sink into my chair and press my fingers to my temple.
And then it hits me.
The memory. The scar. The night I let loose.
The hotel room.
The soft voice whispering my name.
The trembling body under my hands.
Nyra.
The girl I touched.
The girl I paid to disappear.
The girl I just destroyed—again.
---
For the first time in years, my chest aches with something I can’t shake:
Regret.
- Writer
