Before I could scream, the office door swung open. Naomi Henson walked in, looking every inch the professional elite in a silk blouse and heels, a triumphant smile playing at her lips.
She had come to share the news of her promotion.
Her arrival drew eyes immediately; a passerby in the hall lifted a phone to snap a picture.
Joel's face instantly darkened. He lunged forward, snatching the phone from the stranger's hand.
"Delete it," he snarled. "The internet is too toxic. She has a gentle spirit; she isn't built for public scrutiny. Do not post her face online!"
My throat turned to sandpaper.
Naomi Henson couldn't be exposed. Couldn't be judged. Had to be shielded.
But me?
I had to be stripped of every shred of dignity for her career.
*In Joel's eyes, what am I?*
I walked out of the office like a corpse, moving only by muscle memory. Around the corner, I collided with the nurse.
Her face was gray.
"We... we were delayed too long," she whispered. "The rescue failed."
A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. My knees buckled, and I collapsed to the cold tile floor.