____________________________________________
Secrets
Prologue
It’s times like this that make me wonder, these times of pain, of suffering, times that hurt my pride. I want to know why…why do secrets always hurt? Why do secrets bring pain and suffering? I’ve often thought about this, hoping to find the answer. I’ve never found it though. I want to know how to stop the pain, kill the secrets that lie deep inside us all. I can’t do that. I know it.
We all know it. I’m lying here now, cold. The rain falls outside of my cold apartment, I no longer can afford heat. My happiness fell silent long ago. Perhaps, this is the way it’s meant to be…perhaps not. We’ll never know. Does fate exist? Is your future decided at the moment of your birth, or can you work hard and affect what your future holds? If change is possible, I must of made horrible decisions.
It’s not only me. All of us…we all made horrible decisions. All of Harumi made a horrible decision. We acted in greed, a power struggle to the top. The results… look at me now. I’m exhausted, lying on this concrete floor, rain dripping on me from a hole in the ceiling. My coat, once an expensive thing, is now a few scraps of cloths. My home is gone, burned down thanks to that horrible secret I kept for so long.
I wonder what happened to them, my coworkers from Harumi. Perhaps they fell victim to secrets we still don’t know. I think it’s to early for that, maybe a few more days. My husband also kept a secret, a painful secret. I don’t want to think about it. It hurts my heart.
Many of my coworkers are gone. Many of them went missing during the Harumi power struggle, destroyed by those without morals. Many of my friends and family are gone, also destroyed by Harumi. It’s amazing how one place can ruin so many lives. To think, I’ll never be able to see some of them again. I’ll probably never see any of them again, but, if I do, my heart will cease to beat. The pain will be to much to bear.
This one location… no, this one horrible job destroyed everything. It destroyed everything I held dear, everything close to my heart. It destroyed my happiness, my contentment. None of it’s there. All it left was pain and deep sorrow… and pity, pity for myself. What am I talking about? The job is not at fault. No matter where I was, it would have happened to Harumi. It would have been my fault too.
I just want to say I’m sorry to everybody, sorry for destroying so many lives. I’m sorry for secrets existing. Why must such horrible things plague our lives? Why can’t anything ever be simple? I’m so sorry…
-Diary of Francesca Belmont,
Harumi Executive.
Francesca stood in a black dress, watching as the last of her former coworkers were buried. They decided to hold all the funerals on the same day, even though they all died separately. She glanced to her right, at some of her surviving coworkers. Most of them were holding their heads down, praying that the souls of those dead made a safe journey to heaven. Two or three were whispering to each other though. She recognized one of them.
The woman was one of the other executives. She was wearing a fire red dress to the funeral, a symbol that she cared about none of the dead. Francesca thought that she should have cared some more. The other two were completely unknown to her, probably her family or friends that she invited, that way she wouldn’t get bored.
Next Francesca glanced to her left, recognizing two of the people. Both of them were praying and stood in silence. One was an executive, the other a manager… at least they were. They finished their prayer and watched as the people began to disperse. The woman in red laughed loudly at a joke one of the other two near her said. She could not believe how rude she was.
“Hello, Francesca. I’m still sorry that this had to happen,” the manager told her as she walked up.
“Don’t say that. You know that it’s my fault all this happened…” Francesca trailed off the subject.
“I wish that these secrets never existed. I wish that everything was simpler, but…”
“It can never be that simple. Something always has to complicate life, perhaps a dream or a secret. It can’t be helped… life is like that.”
“Even both a dream and secret at the same time…”
“Yes, a dream that leads to a secret can cause just as much pain.”
“You’re talking about Ms. Fwipp, aren’t you?”
“Yes… the poor woman. She was one of the few my secret didn’t hurt.”
“Don’t talk like that. All of our secrets made this happen. All our secrets… and our greed…”
Secret 1: Ms. Fwipp’s Dream
Mother told me I could never fulfill my dream. She told me I shouldn’t feel my head with such a stupid idea. She said we couldn’t afford lessons anyway. Why did my mother feel the need to pain me? Why did she do this to both of us, my sister and me.
She told me no matter how much I wanted to, I could never learn to play. The harp was too much for me to handle. Mother told me it was never meant to be… and I believed her. I believed that no matter how hard I tried, I could never play it. I was stupid enough to believe that woman I called mother. Now the rain drenches my sorrows, helping them flow away. I know there is only one way to end this suffering, but I can’t do it.
I play this instrument in my home, listening to the notes play for an invisible audience, an audience that was almost there. I ruined the only chance I got, stupid me. I brought this loneliness upon myself. Was this life of misery decided for me the moment I was born? Did my mother decide this for me?
The music stops and I look up from the strings. I can see one of the audience members, but they’re invisible. I shouldn’t see one. That one audience member is why I can’t end my suffering. He is the last thread of happiness that hasn’t been cut by this pain. He gives his applause, loving the song, even though he’s heard it many times before. I smile.
Finally, I have gathered up the courage. He left the concert for the day, heading home to peace. I pluck a string from the harp, preparing to destroy this pain inside me. I hold it close to my neck, hoping the string is strong enough. I inch it closer and say goodbye…
-Final page of the diary of Dorothy Fwipp,
Harumi Accountant
Ms. Dorothy Fwipp glared at the intern that worked under her. “What do you mean the papers aren’t ready? You do know they are due today.” Her eyes pierced through his body like a knife through butter, peering into his very soul.
The intern shivered, avoiding her gaze at all cost. “I-I know M-Ms. F-Fwipp, ma’am. It j-just got delayed a l-little. It w-will be ready by t-tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is past due! It was supposed to be done today, but it can’t be helped… I’ll just have to tell Kiyohiko.”
“N-No p-please don’t d-do that. Jessica is w-working as hard a-as she can to finish. M-Maybe w-we can finish it before the d-day ends.”
“Good.” Dorothy ushered the intern out of her office, slamming the door behind him. She returned to her desk. Stacking the papers she was analyzing nearby, she laid her head on her desk. “It’s too much. I can’t handle all this stress.” She closed her eyes.
Dorothy was surrounded by people. She tried to work her way through the crowd, squeezing between many. Suddenly, she saw a birch chair. A cushion with a floral design adorned the seat. That was when Dorothy realized where she was. This was the parlor in her home.
She heard music, a sonata she had just learned. She looked around and saw what was playing the music. Dorothy saw herself playing the harp… her harp. Her fingers flowed elegantly over the strings, the music coming softly and continually from those fingers. She listened to every note being played perfectly, the music soothing to her ears, making her forget about the stress.
She finished and heard the applause. It was the first time anybody except for her fiancée had ever given her applause. Her eyes began to tear, she could not think of anything but the applause. “Thank you…” She told the audience in a barely audible whisper. Then she realized they were not clapping for her. They were clapping for the her by the harp. Her eyes began to tear. She began to run towards the exit.
She heard the office door open. Instantly, she opened her eyes and looked up. A woman stood in front of the closed door, a faint smile on her face. She wore a black skirt and jacket, a white shirt under the jacket. Her emerald eyes were looking straight into Dorothy’s, not showing a sign of what she was thinking. Her long black hair, usually falling down to her waist, was tied up in a bun for the meeting of executives later.
“Oh… Francesca!” Dorothy was wondering what Francesca thought of her. After all, she had just walked in her sleeping.
“It’s okay… Everybody is guilty of falling asleep on the job. I know I’ve done it quite a few times.” She walked farther into the small office. “Well, are you going to offer me a seat?”
“Of course! Will you honor me by taking a seat in my office?” Dorothy looked confused… a high profile executive was chatting with her.
Francesca sat down on the other side of Dorothy’s desk. “I heard that your interns didn’t get a paper in on time.”
So that was it! She was here to tell her that she needed to teach them better. She was here to scold her. “It’s true…”
“I also heard that one of the interns came out of here shaking earlier.”
No… she was here to tell her how bad of a teacher she was being. “That’s also true… unfortunately.”
“Don’t be so hard on them. Everybody makes mistakes. Let them make it while they’re young, on unimportant things… like the paper. A paper can be turned in a day or two late. It won’t affect anything that much. A decision between life and death can only be done once. Don’t let them make the wrong choice then.” Francesca gave Dorothy a small smile. “Don’t scold them that hard, just enough to let them know that it’s not polite to turn things in late.”
“You think it’s okay for a report to be turned in late?”
“No… I think that most of the time a paper should be turned in on time, but a paper should be lower on the priority list than your sanity and health. The same thing goes for you. You were sleeping when you should have been analyzing papers, calculating profit margins, and preparing the budget for next weeks meeting, but you made the right choice. You think straighter when you are awake.”
Dorothy listened to every word her higher up told her, making mental notes of a few parts. “Are you sure I made the right choice?”
“Yes, your choice can just have saved the company. If you had made the budget while half-asleep, you might have done the math wrong, making the budget too high. Than the company would have fallen, making you lose your job. Make your mistakes on little things, like when to get sleep, instead of on large things that could affect your life.”
“Thank you.” Dorothy bowed her head slightly. “I’m sorry you had to tell me that.”
“I was once given this same lecture… the only difference, the person who gave me this lecture was Kiyohiko.” Francesca looked at the office, noticing considerable amounts of concert posters. These posters were not for contemporary concerts but operas, orchestras, and recitals.
“Really? I wouldn’t have thought of him to be the type to give lectures. I thought he would tell somebody else to give you it… maybe Gregory.”
“Gregory? I doubt he would have given me the lecture. He would have lied and said that I was fired.” Both of them let out a small laugh. “So… do you like classical music?”
“Yes, I try my best to play the harp… with some success. I’m trying to learn a sonata, but I’m having trouble learning the melody.” Dorothy remembered her dream and her harp at home. “I’m trying my best.”
“I’m sure you’ll get it if you keep trying. Good luck.” Francesca looked at the clock on Dorothy’s wall, standing up as soon as she saw the time. “Sorry! I have to go. I’ll start getting behind too if I don’t get to work soon.” She closed the door behind her.
Dorothy sighed… Francesca had a point. “Perhaps I should apologize to them… I get stressed so easily these days.” She heard her door open again. Looking up, she saw Jessica, the other intern.
“I’ve finished the paper. I’m sorry it was almost late.” Jessica’s hand was shaking when she handed the report over. “I’ll just be going now…”
“No… sit down. I need to tell you something.” She watched the girl, at least she was in Dorothy’s eyes, sit where Francesca had just been sitting. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten as angry as I did.” She gazed at the girl. “That was all I needed to tell you. You may leave.”
Jessica stood, leaving the office instantly. Dorothy wiped some dust off of her knee-length gray skirt. She then grabbed the stack of papers, going back to work. She spent the rest of the day finishing the papers.
The time finally came for work to end. Dorothy walked down the first floor hallway, heading to the front entrance. On the way, she heard some conversations that were going on.
“The day’s over for Ms. Flip. She’s heading home.”
“There goes Ms. Flip… see her again tomorrow.”
“Do you know why they call her Ms. Flip?”
“No, why?”
“She could be the nicest person one moment, but the next…”
Dorothy felt a rush of warm air as she left the building. She made her way through the front garden, spending a moment looking at her reflection in the water. “Who am I? Why do I get angry easily?” She made her way to her car, undoing the bun she always kept her hair in at work. The brown hair fell to her mid-back as she entered the vehicle.
She grabbed the ruby necklace around her neck, a token of love from her fiancée. Then she began her long drive home, out of the city and into the suburbs. She made it home right before sunset, the small slit of light leaving the sky. She entered her house, heading straight for the parlor. The harp stood there, on the pedestal where she left it that morning.
She sat on the chair next to that harp, her fingers moving into position. She began the sonata. This job is putting more stress on me than I can handle, just like my childhood was. Mother…all you ever cared about were your precious sons. All you cared about were their sports.
She made a mistake. Her not was sharp. She repaired herself and continued playing. Where are your precious boys now? One’s in jail, her precious older son. One went missing long ago. The last one, he is now a drug addict, making him unable to participate in his sports. My sister and I, did we get what we wanted? Nope… I never got to learn the harp until I moved out. My sister, she never got to go to dance school like she wanted. She’s the only sane one of us left.
She heard another sour note. Why can’t I get it right? Why is it that I’m not perfect? I know my mother wasn’t right. She wasn’t. Was she? I can’t seem to play this correctly. I can’t get it right.
She heard the doorbell ring, stopping her sonata to answer the door. He stood there, knowing that she was home by this time. He came to listen to her practice again. She was not sure why he came most days, listening to that same horrible sonata day after day. She was growing tired of trying to learn it.
He leaned in and kissed her cheek, his way of saying hello. Then, he went into the kitchen to begin their dinner. He was the one who could cook. She went back to the harp and waited quietly.
“Is there anything you want today?” he asked from the kitchen.
“No!” Dorothy replied. That was usual, a routine set sense the engagement. She continued playing the sonata she had been trying to learn for a month. She knew she almost had it but hated every note. She continued to play it, waiting for perfection.
Eventually, the sonata ended, missing about five notes. She growled at her imperfection, moving over to the birch chair and kicking it over. “I can’t stand it anymore! That sonata is making me want to kill!”
Her fiancée ran out of the kitchen, used to her multiple personalities. “Honey, calm down. Calm down.”
Her tantrum was not what usually happened. “I’m sorry… I just got so angry with myself. I should know that-”
“Shhh… That’s why I love you. You are different from most people. Your anger is appealing to me. Now, dinner is ready, and you need to go to the table and wait.”
“B-but…”
“I love you, Dorothy.”
“I love you too.”
She replaced the chair, putting it back in its original spot. Then she went to the dining room table waited in her usual spot for him to serve his dinner. He brought it out and they ate silently, preferring quiet meals to talkative ones.
They finished eating and listened to her practice more. They finished their usual routine around half past eight. That’s when he went home, tired after a long days work. Dorothy was not tired yet; she had the nap during work. She decided to practice more.
I only had one note wrong that last time. Maybe, I can get it right. She began to play the sonata. Eventually, my life will be free from this curse of mistakes. I once had a chance for a concert at the park, but I messed it up. I ruined it. She began to feel tired and yawned. I’ll go to sleep after I finish.
She sat on the stage, the bright daylight shining on her. People were beginning to gather for the concert a half hour away. She began to get nervous. She felt butterflies in her stomach. She had to leave the stage for a moment.
The manager walked up to her, telling her she needed to remain on stage. Dorothy was too nervous. She told the manager that she needed the bathroom and ran. She ran home, cutting the sparkling navy blue dress she had on.
Time came for the concert and Dorothy could not get on the stage. She was still at home, not want to see anybody, not even her fiancée, though he was her boyfriend at the time. People wanted to see her. It had been years since a harpist preformed in that part of the city.
She never went, too frightened to leave her house. She heard on the news about the riot it caused, in other words the crowd throwing coke cans at the manager. She could not leave her house for two weeks. She was afraid somebody would recognize her. Nobody ever did though.
Dorothy woke. Apparently, she had fallen asleep in the middle of the sonata. Another mistake! She grew angry again. Why must I make so many mistakes in my life? Why? I hate when I make mistakes! She pounded her arms against the floor, making a loud bang echo through the house.
She began to calm down, regaining control of her whole body. I hate myself. I hate myself. I wish I never existed. She cried loudly and threw her body against the wall, sliding her back against the wall and landing on the ground. I hate my life. She moaned in agony.
Eventually, she rose from the wall and walked over to the bathroom. She grabbed her brush and brushed her hair, putting it back up in a bun. She put on lipstick and blush, making herself look as nice as possible. She grabbed that sparkly blue dress she wore the day she was supposed to perform. It had been patched.
After it was on, she returned toured her house, picking up belongings she thought important. Then, she gathered them in the parlor. There was a photo of her fiancée, her ruby necklace, her business wear, and a note written by her sister. I love you, my sister. I’m sorry I have to do this.
Her business wear was slightly wrinkled. I love my job. It taught me so much. Francesca, thank you…
She then turned to the ruby necklace and photo. She put the necklace around her neck, holding it for one last time. Then she looked at the photo. I wish I could love you forever, but it’s just too much for me. Please forgive me, my only love. She put the photo down and went over to her harp.
She plucked a wire from the harp and positioned the chair she played in so that it was close to her favorite belongings. She looked at the wire. Goodbye…
She put the wire to her face, readying herself for the kill. Thoughts kept running through her head. Is this what I really want? She moved the wire closer to her neck. Yes…I’m positive this is what I want. She moved it to where it barely touched her neck. Am I really ready to do this? She sat on the chair.
“Yes… Let’s do this. Goodbye.” She looked apathetically around the house. Then she began the strangling. She felt the chain links of the necklace get pressured. Then she saw it break. The ruby fell to the ground. It crashed into the photo, breaking the glass frame that protected it.
She felt something wet cover on her neck. Is that sweat? She looked down and saw red liquid flow from a cut the wire made. She began to feel light-headed, and her vision began to blur. It’s almost time. Goodbye again.
Her vision became pitch black. The last thing she saw was blood dripping onto her business wear and the note. Visions of her fiancée ran through her mind. I’m sorry I must do this to you, but it’s for the best. You’ll find somebody better than me.
Then she realized that she wanted to try to live. Tears began to form in her lives. She wanted to try to get through the pain with the one she loved, but it was too late now. What did I do? Why did I do this? Her tears mixed with the blood on the ground and possessions.
She began to feel less pain than earlier. The darkness around her began to change to light. The darkness began to disappear. She fell to the ground…dead.
That evening, her fiancée opened the door to find Dorothy on the ground, wearing her old blue dress. Dried blood was on the floor and objects around her. Her ruby necklace he gave her was broken. The chain links were scattered and dented. The ruby was on the ground, next to his broken photo.
Dried blood was on over half the photo, and he was almost unrecognizable. He looked at him, agonized from her death. She had fallen on shards of glass, making her bleed more than she already was. She was dead. There was no doubt in that, but the thought made him fall to the ground, tears of agony, pain, and disappointment falling from his eyes.
