CHAPTER 1
After the performance, it took almost two years to prepare for a meeting with my abusers. During that time, I assembled a personal team of assistants and also accumulated quite a lot of material on those I wanted to get even with. Before the production began, I knew more about my characters than they did. Having collected all the documents, records, photos and, most importantly, the blacklist itself in a rather large suitcase, I finally returned to my hometown for the first time in many years.
My return was at the height of spring. Nature, like me, was reviving after a long and harsh hibernation. It was as if she was whispering to me that it was time to act. And I liked her call. I walked along the streets of the city and awakened with every bud opening, with every young leaf, with everything that was renewed and revitalized. Stepping on my native land, I realized that there is no turning back. Nothing would ever be the same again, and there would certainly be no leitmotifs from my past.
The desired meeting with the first name on the list happened just a few hours after my arrival. I didn't want to wait a minute. I was itching to start my performance as soon as possible. So I asked my assistants to deliver my things to the hotel, and I went to my first offender.
After many agonizing years, our paths crossed again in the elevator of the building where she lived. Her status and position allowed her to have a comfortable apartment in a prestigious area of the city. As in her childhood, she tried not to ride the small passenger elevator. She preferred a large freight-passenger elevator, as the enlarged area protected her from unwanted intrusion of strangers into her personal space. No one breathing in the back, not brazenly looking at what you're wearing, not looking unceremoniously at the screen of your cell phone. After all, it really annoyed her and caused aggression. This habit was rooted in her school days. A distance was set by her for everyone she considered "not her own". Violation of the "prescribed" interval was always severely punished. This ordinary-looking girl was feared by many schoolchildren. Being intelligent and calculating, she became an authority. Her intellect was admired even by the older students, so her words and wishes carried a lot of weight among the students.
At school, I was "lucky" enough to experience firsthand what it meant to violate her personal boundaries. Once, when I accidentally stepped on her foot, I was publicly punished by members of her company for the insult. After class, I was caught and forcibly dragged to the corner of the school. My tormentor ordered me to take off my pantyhose. Barely holding back tears, I obeyed. One of the boys removed the belt from my waist and walked over to me. At a nod of her head, he gave me a stab with the belt on the calves of my legs. The piercing pain made me fall to my knees. I was commanded to get up. I begged for mercy, but my tears only fueled the torturers' passion. I endured ten blows that cut my legs to blood. I was punished in front of dozens of students so that no one would walk on the feet of the school's elite. No one even thought to stand up for me. No one cared that every blow was hurting not only my body, but my dignity as well. Tears were pouring from my eyes from the pain. I was in unbearable pain and shame, but I didn't even think about moving. Fear and hopelessness paralyzed my will. I clenched my teeth and accepted every blow and taunt with the resignation of a victim.
The memory of such a brutal punishment sent adrenaline into my bloodstream. My cheeks turned crimson, my breathing quickened. Despite the fact that there were only two of us in the elevator, I approached my tormentor closely and said hello politely. In response, she gave me a look of total disinterest. Of course, she didn't recognize me, and she couldn't recognize me. I was well aware that behind the mask of feigned indifference lies a strong irritation from my proximity. For many years she had never managed to free herself from her phobia.
Seconds passed, and I continued to stand there, staring at the first heroine on my blacklist. The right posture, the sidelong glance, the heart-shaped birthmark on her neck, the hair always gathered up in a bundle, the strict clothes and the slightly chewed nails on her hands... She hadn't changed her habits! The elevator silently took us upstairs. Unsuspecting, she nervously browsed the news feed on her phone, while I stared into the eyes of my past irritated by my presence. Much to the relief of my high school tormentor, the elevator finally stopped. I said goodbye and got off a few floors before she did. This encounter had finally convinced me that the play I had planned was not only happening, but that its high-profile premiere had to begin right this minute.
The nogtegryzka girl, whom I annoyed so much in the elevator, was number two on my list of characters, and her name was Zlata. A rare beautiful name was dissonant with her appearance. But that didn't stop her from getting what she wanted.
In the months before my return to my homeland, my loyal assistants had been collecting information about her in detail. They carefully watched and followed her every move. They went through her past and present. They studied in detail her habits, predilections and behavior. From their information, I learned everything she breathed and breathed. It turned out that after school Zlata graduated with honors from the Institute of Economics and Law. After receiving her diploma, she immediately got a good job in a major advertising company. She was a responsible executor of advertising projects, the so-called OIRP manager. Young, educated, ambitious and purposeful Zlata was immediately entrusted to lead all complex advertising campaigns. And she proudly met the expectations of her superiors. Working with her, customers were always satisfied and came back again and again. Thanks to the increase in clients, she became the highest paid and most in-demand specialist in advertising and PR.
Zlata really achieved a lot and was "on the horse", but she was a bad rider. Why? Because she wasn't happy. Constant haste. Obligatory achievement of tasks. Her life was like a treadmill. To stay on the track, Zlata never stopped. Never looked back. Never enjoyed herself. Even sex was strictly for her health. The only thing she lived by was her goals. Therefore, despite her many admirers, Zlata kept her distance in the personal sphere as well. She could not allow any love experiences to disrupt her usual rhythm of life and damage her career. Love affairs did not go beyond the framework of light hobbies. Family and children were out of the question. Zlata considered all this an anchor and a burden.
I knew to what state my childhood tormentor had to be brought to in order to bring her life into complete imbalance, but I didn't see any way to achieve the task at hand. I did not want to rush, as in the case of Zlata only a single and precise blow could be struck. After a few weeks my patience had already yielded results far more significant than a rash and furious attack.
The reason for the long-awaited attack on the nailgirl was the news from my assistant that I was not the only one with an interest in this person. Another girl was curious about Zlata's life. Her name was Christina, she was the complete external opposite of my former classmate. This beauty, looking like a photo model from the cover of a glossy magazine, had big blue eyes, long blond hair and slender legs "from the ears".
During a week of gathering information about Christina, it turned out that she and Zlata worked at the same company. Only Zlata was in a managerial position and Kristina was in a fetching role. The latter was obsessed with her successful boss. She repeatedly made attempts to befriend Zlata. But deprived of bodily attractiveness brain deliberately ignored the existence of a brainless beauty. However, Christine for many years continued to persistently seek Zlata's favor. She was convinced: friendship with the boss will help her to increase her value in the eyes of others and expand the zone of influence. She referred to the principle: tell me who your friend is, and I will tell you who you are. So she was not interested in Zlata personally, but in the success she was surrounded by. Poor thing, blinded by the external glitter of Zlata's prosperous life, did not care at all what snake lurks behind it. She believed that friendship with a successful person will help her to become more successful too. After all, people like Zlata would not get involved with just anyone.
***
Analyzing their manners of behavior, I clearly traced the complexes that are very "popular" among girls. Zlata has a superiority complex, while Kristina has an inferiority complex. This complex led to success for one of them, and to insecurity for the other. Although, having an interesting appearance, Christina, on the contrary, should have become a beautiful swan, and Zlata - an ugly duckling. However, not everything in life happens as one thinks. The roots of their inferiority grew from their childhood. Zlata had parents who praised and encouraged their daughter despite her appearance. Unlike Christina, who was criticized by her late father and mother with and without cause for the slightest misdeed. The support of loved ones helped Zlata consciously veil her shortcomings and maximize her strengths. Flaws in her appearance she was able to compensate for by constantly training her mind. Her intellect was more exciting than her looks.
As for the beautiful Christina, she decided to take the path of least resistance. The girl was only doing what she was trying her best to meet the "high" standards of this world. If the hair - then as a popular actress. If the dress - only what is in trend. If the job - necessarily prestigious. And the list is endless. Christina has always lived with an eye on pseudo-authorities. As a result, she turned out to be a template, devoid of individual appeal. In her haste to keep up with fashion trends, Kristina did not have time to develop her intellect. Zlata was also far from perfect. She, on the contrary, possessing a high level of IQ, directed it not only to achievements in her career. Her sarcastic intelligence often made beautiful women suffer. Deprived of external data Zlata at every opportunity tried to trample them into the mud. Humiliating morally beautiful women, she thus muffled her sense of inferiority. Christine was also in the Iron Lady's crosshairs. Endowed with the appearance that Zlata dreamed of, she often endured the sarcastic taunts of the boss in her address. It was a pitiful sight, as the poor girl, ridiculed by Zlata, often looked like a buffoon in front of the queen. She was hurt, but she couldn't get away, and apparently didn't want to.
Christina's appearance was good for me. I was going to use her plight for my production. For several weeks I had been watching the relationship between Zlata the Synonym and Christina the Antonym (the stage names I had given them) under a magnifying glass. In order to realize my play, I decided to reincarnate as Christina for a while. To do this, I had to get rid of her prototype as quickly as possible. Precious time was running out, and I didn't want to waste it on elaborate ways of eliminating the object that was in my way. So I decided to go straight ahead: to talk to Christina personally and persuade her to leave the country for a while.
Our first meeting with Antonim took place at lunchtime in one of the restaurants not far from her work. The place was elite and expensive. Christina came here every day for a business lunch. She liked to surround herself with luxury and be among rich, influential people. However, she always sat alone at the table. Not many colleagues could afford to dine at such a restaurant. They chose establishments to their own pocket. Unlike them, Christina was ready to spend her last money, as long as she was surrounded by luxury and beauty in everything.
I sat down with her while she was waiting for her order. I didn't introduce myself, of course, and got straight to the point. I offered Christina a thirty-day vacation at one of the most elite resorts in the world - Palmilla, San Jose Del Cabo in Mexico. Bonus to this lover of expensive life was a full repayment of her credit card debts and a decent amount of money on her account. For this she had to not only leave the country for a month, but also leave the keys to her apartment, give me the necessary documents confirming her identity, drain all her friends and colleagues, well, and, of course, give full access to her accounts in social networks. You should have seen the look on her face when I finished talking. At first Christina thought it was a prank, but when she realized it wasn't, the questions came one after another. She asked me over and over again why I was doing this and who was I anyway? I thought for a moment that it would be easier to kill her than to try to explain everything to this shallow creature with blue eyes. I couldn't get her to clearly agree to my proposal. Besides, her hesitation, her long tongue, and her silly questions convinced me that it would be dangerous to let her in on my plan. With her long legs but "short" intellect, she could ruin everything for me. I had to get rid of her immediately, before that incessant chirping bird told everyone about our conversation. In order to get the result I wanted quickly, I took a different route - the road of unconditional persuasion. A few hours later, after a short conversation with the sullen-looking but sweet at heart sports guys, Christina was already sitting on the plane to Mexico. In order to prevent her from telling anyone about me and our strange deal, I had assigned her an observer for the entire vacation, who would guide her to the right path in case of emergency.
After the plane with Christina on board took off, I didn't put anything off and went to her apartment the same evening. In her house, the blue-eyed girl had artificially created the world she dreamed of: expensive wine, French cheeses, silver spoons, crystal glasses, pristine expensive lingerie. Christine wanted to live so beautifully that she spent all her money on this "beauty" and got into a terrible debt. On the walls hung her photos, taken by good photographers, but they smelled of loneliness and falseness. Like most beautiful women, she had no friends. But on social networks, she worked hard to create the appearance of a successful life and happiness. Together with my assistants, I tried to study Christina's lifestyle in detail in order to play the next game as realistically as possible. One of the materials we needed was a sample of her handwriting. We found it in her personal journal. While my accomplice scrutinized the manner and style of Christine's writing, I took a quick look at the contents of the diary. Every line I read told me that Antonym was not as hopelessly stupid as she seemed at first sight. She fully realized that she had become a hostage of imposed stereotypes. Her desire to be beautiful and successful had turned into a phobia that drove her crazy. The poor woman tried so hard to conform to the ideals of her idols that she lost herself as a person. Pain and despair permeated every line she wrote. She suffered and agonized over it, but didn't know how to start living differently. She lacked the courage to get rid of the glamorous junk around her. And that's where I decided to help her.
To put an end to Christina's suffering, I chose the only way I thought was right - to destroy the artificial world and false value system she had created. So I took on the role of a powerful hydraulic breaker, which would smash the glamor into dust and clear the site to build something of my own, the real thing. I gave her silverware and crystal to a nursing home. The expensive clothes and gourmet food went to the homeless. Now Christina had a chance to start a new life, if she could brave the ruins of the old one.
***
After I finished with Antonim, I started with Synonym. I wanted to be as close to her as possible, so I got a job as her assistant. It wasn't hard to do, since Christina was missing and no one could contact her. So when the company announced a vacancy I quickly took the place of the glamorous beauty. Zlata didn't even remember that a few weeks ago she rode in the same elevator with me. She generally instantly forgot everything she was not interested in. For a few more days I personally observed her at work. Zlata became one with the masks she wore: she controlled her emotions perfectly, was able to hold herself with dignity in any situation, was a professional. No wonder she was so admired, respected and appreciated. She was perfect in everything except her nails. And she had to bite them every time someone violated her personal space without permission. However, no one at work, except her and me, knew about this weakness. Having studied it well enough, I finally began to play my part and brought prepared in advance drama in the storyline - committed suicide. Or rather, not me, but Christina, who had flown to Mexico. Although the latter, enjoying a luxurious vacation in Mexico, was more alive than anyone else and even forgot about her silly but reasonable questions.
The news of Christina's pseudo-death caught Zlata on an unfortunate morning at her home. In her spacious apartment, as usual, Rammstein was blaring from the speakers. The intellectual Zlata preferred rock. The heavy rhythm helped her feel confident and calmed her inner aggression. Listening to music, Zlata sat opposite the window and watched people going somewhere. She imagined the people scurrying back and forth as pathetic ants. That's exactly what they looked like from the observation window on the 20th floor. As usual, Zlata drank a bitter espresso in the morning. The "fateful" idyll was broken by a text message. Zlata glanced unhappily at the clock hanging near the window. It annoyed her to be disturbed before business hours. She turned the music up louder and picked up her cell phone. The message was from an unfamiliar number, since Zlata certainly didn't have Christina's number. In the short message, one of her assistants, Christina, blamed the Iron Lady for her troubles. Nailgirl read it all the way through. Not a single muscle trembled in her face. She paid no attention to what she read. She had to receive such text messages quite often from company employees she had fired. Adding Christina's number to her blacklist, she calmly started to get ready for work.
This morning, stepping into the office, Zlata immediately felt that something strange was happening. Walking through the corridors, she noticed the slanted glances of the employees. The Iron Lady did not understand the reasons for this increased attention to herself. Ignorance irritated her and somehow unusually disturbed her.
In order to get this increased attention to Zlata's person, the day before, I sent a farewell letter to all of Kristina's acquaintances and company employees to their corporate mailboxes on behalf of Kristina, who blamed Zlata for her death. The message read: "My dear friends, when you read these lines, I will no longer be in this world. I don't want to live because I think I am nothing. My boss Zlata Vasilievna reminds me of this every day. I can no longer tolerate her humiliation and condescension towards me. Don't judge me. Believe me, it's better than to be humiliated and go crazy thinking that you are a nobody.
The imitation of my heroine's death was done according to all the rules of black PR. A young and beautiful girl in the prime of life could not withstand the psychological pressure from her boss. Humiliated and insulted girl committed suicide. Obtaining the necessary documentation to prove "my death" was not difficult. When you have money, there are many people willing to help you "die".
But back to Zlata. So, she came to work and... learned from my assistant that the employee Christina had committed suicide yesterday. Before her death, the girl left a suicide note in which she accused Zlata of pushing her to this fatal step. Working so many years in an advertising company, the Iron Lady was well aware of what such black PR can lead to. A tarnished reputation is hard to repair. However, instead of emotional questioning, panic, shock, she calmly asked to bring the documents necessary for work. Her restraint was to be commended. In this strange and unpleasant situation Zlata tried to keep her mind sober. But I understood perfectly well that behind the external calmness hides a storm of emotions, which she skillfully controlled. By "canning" her feelings, Zlata turned into a time bomb. I only had to light the fuse at the right moment.
The working day came to an end. Having finished all her business and a number of additional meetings, Zlata went home. Buried beneath the daily routine was the morning incident with the strange text message and the suicide note. Everything seemed to have calmed down by itself, until, returning home in the evening, under the door of her apartment Zlata did not see a huge funeral wreath with a black ribbon and an ominous note: "You will answer for my death." This surprise under the door frightened the Iron Lady. She persisted in trying to find out who had brought the wreath. The guards of the house and the neighbors were thoroughly questioned. But it was to no avail. No one knew or saw anything. Surveillance footage was also missing. Even calling the police didn't help. For the first time Zlata did not understand and did not control the situation. For the first time she was seized by the oldest and strongest human emotion - fear. This unsettling feeling told her that she was in danger, and to protect herself, she must attack. However, Zlata didn't know who her enemy was, and that was what scared her insanely.
After the afternoon and evening events, the Iron Lady stayed up all night. By morning she had all the nails on her hands chewed to a bloody pulp. Zlata came to work earlier than everyone else and with a great deal of fear in her sinus. To free herself from the anxiety that had tormented her all night, she decided to dive headfirst into her work and prepare thoroughly for the meeting with her new big customers. Everything seemed to be going well and there was nothing to portend trouble, until... she was summoned to the general director's office. There was an investigator waiting for her, who received a generous reward from me for his unexpected visit. He came up close to Zlata, examined her from head to toe. He was a rather tall middle-aged man with a bald spot on his head. From such an unauthorized invasion of personal zone my former classmate-nogtegryzka literally twitched. But her nervousness only amused the investigator. He had seen much more "tough nuts" than her, and understood perfectly well who was in front of him. The investigator settled comfortably on the soft sofa opposite Zlata. The general director settled down in his desk chair and did not offer Zlata, as usual, to sit down. She stood in front of them like a schoolgirl summoned to the "carpet". The police investigator wanted to know why Christina blamed Zlata for her death. He began to ask about their relationship. He tried to find out whether she had abused her authority and practiced psychological violence against her subordinates. Despite the pressure from the investigator, the Iron Lady kept calm. Of course, no one could bring charges against her, but the conversation was not pleasant. And in front of her superiors. After a short but thorough interrogation, the investigator bowed out. Zlata tried to talk to the general director about what had happened, but he did not want to find out anything and asked to leave him alone. He wanted to be alone to decide what to do with Zlata next. On the one hand, she was an important employee and a wonderful professional. On the other, accusing an employee of psychologically abusing and driving a person to suicide was damn bad publicity for the agency. The CEO decided to wait a little while until the passions settle down. In the meantime, Zlata, to distract herself from what was going on, plunged into the work routine. However, the storm in which she was caught, was just beginning.
Next, I turned to the media. The money helped me to open wide the doors to many TV channels, and several of them were already reporting the news about an unfortunate employee of a major advertising company who had committed suicide because of her boss's abuse and humiliation. Zlata in all TV stories made a monster, a tyrant and a heartless bitch. In principle, that's what she was. All over the country from TV screens once fired and humiliated by her employees spoke unflatteringly about her former boss. All office workers watched with interest the news, in which Zlata appeared. It was as if the TV channels had formed a coalition against her. The Iron Lady did not find a place for herself. She was well aware that such stories about her would influence public opinion not in her favor. Zlata was so nervous that she was biting not only her nails, but also her pens and pencils. A classmate nail chewer did not want to be a scapegoat for some employee who committed suicide. In order to justify herself and somehow salvage her reputation, she took the desperate step of making a statement. On one of her calls, a crowd of journalists gathered outside the office building. However, she did not manage to speak in front of the vultures who wanted to tear her apart. Upon learning that Zlata was planning to give an interview, the CEO became furious. What right did she have to do such a thing without his approval! In this situation, it would be best for her to sit quieter than water, lower than grass, and not give public appearances. The enraged CEO forbade Zlata to make any statements. Deprived of the opportunity to somehow save her reputation, the Iron Lady could only hope for a miracle. After the severe stress she had received, the leggy classmate wanted to calm down somehow. She quickly made her favorite espresso and discreetly added valerian to it. However, it did not give the desired peace. Then Zlata made herself another cup of coffee, but poured whiskey into it. The alcohol and coffee cocktail finally relaxed her a little.
And while the lady was "treating" her nerves, the general director had to personally apologize to the journalists and ask them to disperse. A few hours later, the anchors of almost all news channels called Zlata a coward hiding behind the back of her superiors, who were covering for her.
The social networks also pulled in after television. Activists created a group that vigorously discussed the cruelty of the advertising company's managers and supervisors. From all sides gibbered about the activities of the agency. Customers who worked with Zlata were listed. The firm began to call dissatisfied customers. The situation was getting out of control. Zlata felt trapped like a wild animal. Scared and confused, she didn't want to go home. She was so frightened by the unknown that she stayed overnight in her office for days. Excessive nervousness, emotional stress, and debilitating insomnia were reflected in her appearance. Bruises appeared under her eyes, her hair was disheveled, her hands began to shake like an alcoholic's. To keep her psychological balance, it was vital for Zlata to take out her aggression on someone. Being constantly in the "crosshairs" of employees and superiors, she no longer had the opportunity to unreasonably press on subordinates. Therefore, the objects of her "anti-stress" breakdowns were janitors and security guards. I confess, I enjoyed watching her torment. And not only me. Many employees gloated behind her back. Those who were braver, threw barbs right in her face. Those who were higher in rank defiantly ignored Zlata.
Everything was happening so fast that I didn't have time to realize that all the planned punishment was being realized before my eyes. Time was changing the events in lightning speed, and I couldn't even catch my feelings. A storm of jubilation was replaced by doubts about the correctness of my actions, doubts were supplanted by a feeling of complete triumph, which, in turn, was overshadowed by a series of painful reflections, reflections smoothly passed into awe-inspiring euphoria, which again gave way to tormenting doubts. This ambiguous kaleidoscope of feelings confused me at times. Sometimes, looking into the eyes of the stumped Iron Lady, I felt a slight sense of pity for her. But the reverberations of the past urged me once again to continue what I had come back to do. Closing my eyes, I heard again and again the laughter of my tormentors, who enjoyed watching my physical and mental pain of my school days. Their revelries, which I had not forgotten, made the dark clouds over the head of the once unshakable and inviolable Zlata even thicker.
A few days after the active media attacks on the advertising agency, the CEO summoned the Iron Lady to his office again. For the first time in his life, he spoke to her in a rude manner. With all her knowledge, merits and regalia, she was no longer useful to him. What to do with her - the CEO had not yet decided. However, due to the events that had taken place, he assigned another employee to negotiate with new customers. And this employee turned out to be Zlata's main competitor. It was pure coincidence. I didn't interfere here, but this coincidence played into my hands.
Meanwhile, the Iron Lady was sinking deeper and deeper into a state of depression. She didn't understand what was going on. For the first time, smart Zlata did not know what to do and how to do the right thing. To put the unfortunate day behind her and to think over the further plan of her actions, she decided to drive home. As she approached the car, she noticed that one door was ajar. On the driver's seat was a beautiful funeral bouquet of carnations with a note: "Congratulations on your failure." Zlata was confused for a while. A chilling cold wave of fear even swept through her body. After all, it wasn't every day that one received messages from people from the other world. However, it was hard for her rational mind to believe that such tidings could be sent by a dead girl. Therefore, she found a more realistic explanation for what was happening: all the events of the last few days were set up by her competitor to take her place. Proof of this became for her and the text of the note found in the car. From this thought Zlata became furious. She could no longer contain her emotions. The bomb exploded. The Iron Lady grabbed the flowers and in front of the stunned guards began to beat them against the asphalt, then against a pole, then threw them on the ground and began to jump on them. Then there was a momentary lull. Zlata picked up what was left of the bouquet. In a matter of minutes, she burst into the office of her rival, who had been entrusted to negotiate with the new customers in her place. Zlata, frantically waving the disheveled bouquet, furiously attacked her dazed colleague. Without hiding her emotions, she said everything she thought about him. According to her, he was a scoundrel who had set her up and was now trying to intimidate her and take her place. She was sure that the events of these days were his doing. The secretary who entered the office at the shouting was immediately stomped into the "linoleum". For the first time, the Iron Lady was saying to her face what she thought rather than stabbing a dagger in her back. This unauthorized explosion of emotions was seen by the new customers with whom Zlata was to hold a meeting. The CEO himself became a witness. I stood aside with the other employees and watched this dramatic scene. The CEO, stunned and outraged by Zlata's behavior, sat down on a chair and undid the top button of his shirt. He was so furious that he broke the expensive pen he was holding. Zlata was farting her eyes at everyone, like a fish abruptly lifted from the deep. She was still alive, but her fate was sealed.
After the incident, all the employees went to their seats to whisper about what had happened. I took my workplace and pretended to mind my own business. The general director walked past Zlata and silently went to his office. Throwing oblique glances at Zlata, everyone dispersed. The iron lady was burning with shame, she ran out of the office building and rushed to her car. Zlata drove at the maximum allowable speed, endangering herself, pedestrians and other drivers. She wanted to get home as quickly as possible and lock herself in her apartment, where no one would violate the boundaries of her personal space.
Carelessly parking the car in the parking lot, Zlata did not wait for the elevator and quickly went up the stairs to her apartment. Only after closing the door behind her did the Iron Lady burst into sobs. Turned on full volume heavy rock this time did not cure, but only increased aggression. Zlata couldn't calm down and threw things around the room as if avenging their defeat. For the first time in her life, she didn't know where to put herself. She wanted to forget herself. She dialed the numbers of her friends one by one. Some didn't pick up the phone, others made clumsy excuses not to see her. Thanks to the media, her notoriety spread quickly. The only one she had left was herself. Zlata was alone with herself for the first time. In complete silence. Not running anywhere, not striving for anything. She used to enjoy commanding, instructing, imposing her opinion, submitting to her whims, poking her nose in. But now she was deprived of such a "privilege". Realizing her inferiority, both inside and out, she became unpleasant to herself. I saw the suffering of my school tormentor and felt pleasure. Her torment was like a bottle of good wine that relaxed and intoxicated me.
The next morning, the Iron Lady's apartment looked like a field after a battle. Broken dishes. Overturned chairs. A broken music center. The morning sun penetrated under Zlata's closed eyelids, teasing and annoying. She rolled over to the other side of the bed, opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was the alarm clock. The drowsiness was gone! Zlata jumped up. For the first time in her life she didn't hear the alarm clock. The first time she had overslept. For a moment she thought that what had happened to her was just a dream. But the mess in the apartment quickly brought her back to reality. Realizing that she had made a mess, Zlata wanted to explain herself to the CEO before it was too late. She decided to return to the office at any cost and prove to her boss that he needed her.
Despite a bad headache after drinking a bottle of whiskey, the Iron Lady arrived at the office. No one else greeted her in a friendly manner. Everyone from department heads to cleaning ladies tried to show their disdain. This made Zlata furious. She was angry at her own helplessness. She wanted to smash every person she met into the wall. She felt for the first time what it was like to be an outcast.
Trying to hide her anger and uncertainty, Zlata walked firmly into her office. As usual, she asked her secretary to bring her documents. Instead of a completed order, she heard in response that the general director had forbidden to give her any cases and orders. Had she arrived too late? Would the CEO get rid of her after all she had done for the firm? Zlata went to the boss's office to clarify the situation and dot all the dots... But the general director himself put the dot by firing her. Merits to the company were not taken into account by the general director. All Zlata's attempts to convince, to justify her yesterday's behavior or to evoke sympathy did not yield any results. The Iron Lady was desperate. She realized that not only her career in this company, but also her future life as a professional was collapsing. After all, no one would want to hire Zlata after everything that had happened. Years of work... and in a few weeks she lost everything. To appease the CEO, she decided to take the step that she had forced me to take more than once at school. Crying, Zlata fell to her knees in front of her boss, begging him to spare her and give her another chance. However, the general director was the kind of man who doesn't change his mind.
The rumor of her dismissal spread around the office in a matter of minutes. Walking down the corridor, Zlata could feel the gloating taunts of her former colleagues. Everyone wanted to see her humiliation and defeat. No one expressed sympathy. No one stood up for her. No one supported her. No one wanted her.
The Iron Lady was so depressed and devastated that she wouldn't go into her office and pack her things. She was so ashamed that she wanted to leave the office walls as quickly as possible. Running away from the shame, Zlata was experiencing firsthand the damage she had once so easily inflicted on others. Now it would take her a long time to realize that everyone around her knew how she had fallen and would laugh behind her back. These strong emotional experiences of the last few days will keep Zlata from living happily for a very long time.
That awaited her ahead. But now she was making her way toward the exit. Before she reached the door, however, the Iron Lady suddenly froze. Her legs gave out. To keep her balance, she leaned her hand against the wall. This was the reaction she got when Christina walked through the door. Zlata's breath caught. She felt like she was going crazy and seeing a ghost in front of her. She shook her head to get rid of the hallucination. The living, healthy and tanned "ghost" frightened the guard standing at the entrance. He even crossed himself three times and spit over his left shoulder. However, Christina's phantom, who had safely returned from the resort a few hours ago, as if nothing had happened, hurried to work. The girl did not want to go home, as she wanted to show off where she had spent the last time. That's why she came to the office with a suitcase in her hands. Passing by the dumbfounded Zlata, the ghost, as usual, ingratiatingly said hello. The Iron Lady reached out her hand and pinched her hard. From the pain and surprise Christina cried out. And then Zlata realized that before her stood the liveliest former subordinate. In response to her greeting Christina received a blow to the face. A fight broke out between the women. The security guard, who came to his senses, even called for help to separate the cats who were clawing at each other's hair. Both were ordered out the door by the CEO. He was so furious at Zlata's aggressive antics and Christina's faked death that he ordered both of them never to appear on the office doorstep again.
The former Iron Lady and Cheap Glamour came together at the point where all of their past lives were lost to them. They had lost everything they held so dear and now had to start their lives from scratch. It was at this critical point that the first normal, human dialog in all the time they had known each other occurred between Zlata and Kristina. Thrown, like garbage, to the side of their usual life, they decided to sit together in a restaurant and drink a glass of wine. Alone, friendless, they were both alone, each looking to the other for support and encouragement. To her surprise, Zlata found in Kristina a great listener. And Christina saw for the first time that her former boss was a person like everyone else, and she had emotions of "mere mortals". Sitting in the restaurant, they drowned their resentments, pain, disappointment in wine and shared the most intimate things, because they were both in the same boat. After a few bottles of wine, Zlata and Kristina began to think about more sober questions about what really happened and who needed to ruin their lives. I don't know what happened next. I did what I had planned to do and I wasn't interested anymore. Each of them had been given a chance to get on with their lives with a clean slate, and it was up to them what their new story would be about.