System Failure

If grief is a storm, despair is the quiet after it—when the thunder stops but you still hear it echoing inside you.

That’s what the second week felt like: the world carrying on, and me left standing in the wreckage, pretending I still existed.

---

Monday

Rain again. It had been raining for days, the kind of drizzle that seeps through everything—your clothes, your bones, your will.

I woke in the driver’s seat of my old Corolla, neck stiff, knees pressed against the steering wheel. My breath had fogged the windows until I was wrapped in my own ghost.

The passenger seat was a museum of small failures: an empty coffee cup, the pawn-shop laptop I’d bought for two hundred dollars, a crumpled résumé smeared with rain.

The laptop wheezed when I opened it, fan shrieking like a wounded animal, but it still worked. That meant hope—or the simulation of it.

I connected to the café Wi-Fi from the parking lot and started applying.

Ten applications.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Each one a plea typed into the void.

By evening, the answers started trickling in.

> We regret to inform you…

After careful review…

Your profile does not align with our needs at this time.

And then one that wasn’t even polite:

> Hale Technologies has advised caution regarding your employment history.

I stared at the line until the words blurred.

Ethan hadn’t just taken my job; he’d taken my future.

---

Tuesday

Recruiters. I called them one by one, my voice cracking from overuse and cold coffee.

> “I just need a chance,” I said. “Remote work, short-term, whatever you have.”

Every response was careful, rehearsed.

> “We’d love to help, Ms Hale, but there are… compliance concerns.”

“Your previous employer flagged your name internally.”

“Best of luck, truly.”

I hung up after the tenth call and laughed, a dry sound that turned into a sob.

I bought a blueberry muffin with the last five-dollar bill in my pocket and ate it in the car.

The crumbs stuck to my fingers; the sweetness felt obscene.

---

Wednesday

I went back to Hale Technologies.

The lobby still smelled of citrus polish and ambition. The same receptionist sat behind the marble desk, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“My badge isn’t working,” I said.

Her fingers trembled slightly over the keyboard. “I’m sorry, Ms Hale, you’ve been… removed from the system.”

Removed. Like corrupted data.

“Please call Lucas,” I said. “He’s my—he was my lead developer.”

Ten minutes later, Lucas appeared by the elevator, shoulders hunched.

“Sam,” he whispered, glancing around, “you shouldn’t have come.”

“I need a reference. Just your signature. You know I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He winced. “Ethan said any contact with you is a violation of NDA. They’d fire me.”

“So that’s it?” I asked. “You all erase me because he said so?”

He hesitated, then offered the phrase that had become everyone’s favorite excuse.

“It’s not personal.”

It never was—except to me.

---

Thursday

I tried my parents.

Mom answered on the third ring.

Her tone was cautious, clipped. “Sam?”

“Hi, Mom.” My voice cracked. “I just need a place to stay for a bit. A week or two.”

A pause, and then the sound of her sigh, long and disappointed. “Your father thinks it’s best if you handle things privately. The situation has caused… enough embarrassment.”

“Embarrassment?” I whispered. “He cheated on me with Chloe! She’s pregnant with his child!”

“Still,” she said softly, “she’s family. You know how gossip spreads. You should keep your distance for everyone’s sake.”

“Everyone’s?” My throat burned. “You mean yours.”

She didn’t reply. Then the line went dead.

The silence afterward was heavier than words.

---

Friday

I showered in a public restroom, using soap from the dispenser and drying my hair under the hand dryer.

The mirror reflected a woman who looked ten years older: gray skin, cracked lips, eyes that had lost their fight.

Chloe’s words echoed in my head—Leave anything Ethan bought you.

So I had.

Every dress, every pair of heels, every piece of jewelry.

Now I owned one pair of jeans, one sweater, and a coat that barely held warmth.

I applied for smaller jobs: bookstore clerk, cashier, night cleaner.

The interviewers smiled politely until they read my résumé.

“Ah,” they’d say, closing the folder. “We’ll be in touch.”

They never were.

By nightfall, I was back in the car, engine off to save fuel, listening to the city hum around me like a world I no longer belonged to.

---

Saturday

The heater died.

I wrapped myself tighter in the coat, fingers numb.

My breath rose in small clouds.

The laptop battery blinked red, 3 %, then 2 %.

I scrolled through freelance sites, desperate.

Error message.

No connection.

The screen went black.

I laughed until I cried, until the tears froze on my cheeks.

Even my machines were abandoning me now.

Outside, the rain turned to sleet, whispering against the windshield like someone tapping to be let in.

---

Sunday Night

I drove until the gas gauge hit empty and coasted into a deserted parking lot beside a gas station that had long since closed.

The world outside was drowned in gray.

The radio was the only thing left alive in the car—soft static, a pulse in the silence.

I turned the dial just to hear a voice, any voice.

> “Good evening, Seattle! This is 97.8 The Wave—your station for new beginnings!”

The DJ’s tone was too bright, almost cruel.

> “Feeling stuck? Ready to escape? Then listen up—it’s time for our weekly Escape & Reset contest! Call now, share your story, and you could win… a fully paid Victorian mansion in Willow Creek!”

I snorted. “Yeah, right.”

A free house? I couldn’t even afford dinner.

The rain beat harder. The car shuddered in the wind.

The DJ kept talking, his voice threading through the storm.

> “No rent, no mortgage, no catch. Just a fresh start. Maybe tonight the universe decides you deserve one.”

My hand hovered over my phone.

Ridiculous. Childish.

But the quiet in my chest hurt more than the humiliation.

What was one more stupid risk to someone who’d already lost everything?

I hit Call.

“97.8 The Wave! Who’s this brave soul?”

“S-Samantha,” I stammered. “Samantha Hale.”

“Well, hello, Samantha Hale! Where are you calling from?”

“My car,” I said before I could stop myself.

A soft pause. “That sounds like a story waiting to be told.”

It spilled out of me before pride could intervene—everything.

The betrayal, the job, my sister, the blacklisting, the nights sleeping in parking lots.

Words tumbled like broken glass.

When I finished, the line was silent.

Then the DJ’s voice came, gentler than before.

> “You’ve had one hell of a storm, Samantha. Let’s see if we can give you some sunlight. All you have to do is answer one question right.”

I swallowed. “Okay.”

> “In mythology,” he said, “what bird is reborn from its own ashes?”

The answer came without thought.

“The phoenix.”

Another heartbeat of silence—then cheers, music, clapping.

> “Ladies and gentlemen, we have our winner! Samantha Hale, you just won yourself a new beginning!”

I blinked at the radio. “You’re joking.”

> “No joke! A house in Willow Creek—yours, free and clear! We’ll send the details to your email tonight. Congratulations, Samantha!”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

My laugh came out half-sob, half-disbelieving gasp. “Is this… real?”

> “As real as you need it to be,” the DJ said softly. “Sometimes the universe just says yes.”

The call ended. The car fell silent again, except for the rain.

I sat there, phone clutched in my hands, shaking—not from cold this time, but something else.

Hope, maybe.

Terror, maybe.

On the dashboard, the radio light flickered, casting the interior in pale blue.

Outside, thunder rolled across the sky like distant applause.

For the first time in weeks, I smiled.

Small. Fragile. But real.

Maybe it was a scam. Maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe the universe had finally decided to give me something back.

I didn’t know. I only knew this:

I’d been buried alive for too long.

And if there was even a chance at rebirth, I was going to take it.

I closed my eyes and whispered to the darkness,

“Thank you.”

The wind rose, carrying the scent of wet earth and electricity.

Somewhere far off, a single lightning bolt split the clouds, illuminating the horizon.

And just for a heartbeat, I thought I saw a shape in the distance—

a tall, crooked silhouette against the rain.

A house waiting under the storm.

Then the light vanished, leaving only the echo of thunder… and the strange certainty that something had just begun.