I went for lunch with my old colleague from the travel company I once worked for. While there, he told me something most curious.

But I must step further back.

In the final weeks of my employment a girl named Sacha, the content editor, began emailing me constantly, criticising every little thing she could. Annoying and unfair, but I didn’t think much of it. Even when she cc’d in our manager.

Then, when I was fired so unfairly, those emails were brought up as evidence of my incompetence.

After I was fired and left the company, my role was never advertised. But Sacha was suddenly employed in the London office, under my old title, so she could her boyfriend in England.

Several weeks later, I heard that almost every member of senior marketing had been unceremoniously fired. Given that most of them had been entirely incompetent, again, I didn’t think much of it.

My former colleague told me, more recently, the reason for their firing had been uncovered. An invoice for an agency, for several thousand pounds; a fee charged to the company in order for them to assist with Sacha getting the work permits needed for a Canadian national to work in the UK.

After he had told me the full story, all the pieces fell into place. All the things that didn’t make sense before were suddenly revealed to me. Sacha had schemed to take my role; she had done it so she could come to England and join her British boyfriend. It all made sense.

That evening I felt a renewed hatred towards Sacha. She had destroyed my working career in order to get her own selfish way; to waylay my career for her own needs. I let my loathing of her boil up inside my head as the fury spilled forth. I wanted her in pain; I desired so much to see her brought low.

I ranted to by best friend. The little she-devil; whore; slut. I wanted to see her features re-arranged until that smug little smile was knocked off her face. The smirking trollop.

I feel calmer now. In a way, it’s a relief to have all the pieces come together; the blank edges of the map filled in at last. I know it all now, no more secrets.

I’ll confess, I tried meditating, I tried setting intentions in yoga and all the rest of it. It didn’t work. My hatred for Sacha and the horrible thing she did burns too strongly in my heart. Some day, if I ever get the chance, I will hurt her. I will take something from her as she took something from me.

How she can live with herself I don’t know. How she can know that she caused me such pain and misery all for her own gain is beyond me. The selfish, selfish little cow.

Perhaps she does not know, I suppose. She can’t know of the fear I’d secretly felt of ever being fired from a role again. Of how, after being so strong in that final meeting and calling my boss out for the lier and bully he was, that I went home and just…fell apart. That I fought to fend off the depression again, that I had to piece myself back together and re-think myself.

I suppose overall I’m in a better place now, but that isn’t enough to stop me loathing her. One day I hope that justice finds her. One day I hope that I find the will to forgive her for what she did. But the ghosts of my old company haunt me; the phantoms of what could have been haunt me.

Could I have made a success of my time there?

What would have happened if I’d moved on in my own time?

I suppose I’ll never know. I just hope that one day the hatred leaves my heart and I can be entirely free of that place.


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