June sat on the hard plastic seat of the subway car. The train rattled through the dark tunnels. She stared at her reflection in the dirty window. Her hair was hacked into uneven pieces. Her arm was bruised and aching. She wrapped her arms around her ribs and shivered.
The next morning, June pulled a cheap gray beanie over her head to hide her hair. She pushed open the glass doors of the architecture firm.
The office was dead silent. Every person in the room looked at her with wide, terrified eyes. They shrank back in their chairs as she walked down the aisle.
She reached her desk. A cardboard box sat in the center of her chair. All her pens, notebooks, and a small framed photo were dumped inside.
Martin Pryce walked out of his office. He threw a single piece of paper on top of her box. He told her she was fired and ordered her to get out.
June grabbed the edge of the desk. She asked for her severance pay. Her rent was due in three days. Without that money, she would starve.
Martin laughed in her face. He told her she had pissed off the Becker empire and cost him his biggest client. He said she was lucky he wasn't suing her for damages.
The building security guard stepped up behind her. He grabbed June by the bicep, shoved the box into her chest, and physically pushed her out the front doors onto the sidewalk.
June stood on the concrete. The freezing wind whipped down the Manhattan street. She felt the crushing weight of Gage's power. He owned the city.
She set the box down. She pulled out her phone and dialed the numbers of three other firms that had offered her jobs last month.
The first two hung up the second she said her name. The third manager sighed heavily. "Listen, kid. The word is out from Becker Industries. No one in the city will touch you. You're blacklisted across all top firms." Then the line went dead.
June picked up her box. She took the train back to Brooklyn. She just wanted to crawl into her bed and pull the covers over her head.
She walked up the street to her apartment building. Her battered suitcase sat on the sidewalk next to the overflowing trash cans.
Her landlord, a heavy woman in a thick coat, stood on the front steps. She pointed a fat finger at June and started screaming. She called June a liability who brought gang members to her property.
June dropped her box. She ran to the steps, begging the woman to let her in. She reminded the landlord she had paid a security deposit.
The landlord pulled a check from her pocket. She ripped it into tiny pieces and threw them directly into June's face.
The woman told June if she stepped foot on the stairs, she would call the cops for trespassing. She turned around and slammed the heavy iron door shut. The lock clicked loudly.
The sky turned dark gray. The first snow of the New York winter began to fall. The temperature plummeted. June only wore a thin autumn jacket.
She crouched down next to her suitcase. Her fingers were stiff and bright red from the cold. She pulled out her phone and dialed the one number she swore she never would again.
The phone rang for a long time. Finally, Jessica Cole answered. The sound of crashing ocean waves played in the background.
June's teeth chattered. She told her mother that Gage had blacklisted her. She had no job, no apartment, and nowhere to go.
Jessica Cole sighed loudly. She called June an idiot for provoking a madman like Gage Becker.
Jessica Cole offered a cold solution. She told June to take a bus to a small town in upstate New York and hide for a few years. She demanded June stay out of the press so her new husband wouldn't find out.
June's chest tightened. She asked her mother how she could be so heartless. She reminded her that Gage had a video that would ruin her life.
Jessica Cole cut her off. She said she would wire five hundred dollars a month. Then, she hung up.
June listened to the dead silence on the line. The last ember of hope in her heart turned to ash.
She stood up. A raw, burning anger mixed with her despair. She pulled her arm back and hurled her phone directly at the brick wall of the apartment building. The screen shattered into a spiderweb of glass and plastic.
She grabbed the handle of her suitcase. She turned her back on her building and walked into the blowing snow.
The snow fell harder, sticking to her clothes. People rushed past her on the sidewalk, their heads down. No one looked at her.
Her stomach cramped violently with hunger. She dug her freezing fingers into her coat pockets. She pulled out three quarters and a dime. Not even enough for a cup of hot coffee.
The streetlights flickered on. The Brooklyn streets grew dark and empty. June dragged her suitcase behind her, walking blindly into the freezing night.
June pulled her suitcase through the heavy snow, her head bowed against the wind.
