Dereliction Of Duty

Liam Dunlap, my girlfriend's junior apprentice, bragged that he could defuse a bomb with one hand. Then he slipped. The timer began to race. Terrified, he dropped his tools and ran. I stepped in at great risk and saved the hostage. For that, I was commended. Liam, on the other hand, was condemned across the internet and faced severe disciplinary action. My girlfriend tried to speak up for him, but I stopped her. "If you defend him now, not only will your promotion be revoked—people online will come after you too." Later, unable to bear the pressure, Liam jumped to his death. Every line of his suicide note blamed my girlfriend for not standing by him. She said nothing. She simply burned the letter in silence. After that, she rose step by step from a frontline officer to a model figure in the police force. On the day I was kidnapped by criminals, she came in person to defuse the bomb strapped to me—using only one hand. She looked coldly at the device on my chest and said, "See? It can be done with one hand. Why did you all have to drive Liam to his death back then? If I had protected him at the time, the one in my position today… should have been him." The bomb detonated. I died on the spot. After I opened my eyes again, I saw her running around desperately for Liam. She didn't know—the hostage was the mayor's son.

As I was cleaning up the house, I noticed something had fallen out of the cabinet my wife always kept locked tight. I remembered Megan's constant warnings. "That cabinet holds all our family's important records. If anything gets lost, there's no getting it back. Just leave it alone and don't touch it." Worried something valuable might have fallen out, I rushed to pick it up. But what I found was a thick stack of remittance slips. From forty years ago to now, every month, my wife had been sending money to the same account. And that's when it hit me. My wife had been lying to me. The money I'd been pouring into this family had been flowing right out, into the hands of someone else.

To fund my daughter's medical treatment, I consider reconnecting with my estranged family until an expected phone call changes everything. "Sir, your diamond necklace has arrived. You may come tomorrow to pick it up." After confirming the order is placed using my and my wife's contract information, my hope sparks. Perhaps the medical bills will finally be covered. When I arrive at the luxury boutique to claim the necklace, the sales clerk frowns, eyeing me from head to toe. "You're saying… you bought this necklace?" I nod, irritated by the condescension. "What happened to the service? Did all the luxury jewelers forget how to treat customers while I was away?" I said inwardly. The clerk flashes me a polite smile and turns to "retrieve" the item, but in reality, he radios the security. "Security, we have a suspected thief here."

I was the best surgical hand in the department, and after three flawless operations in a row, I got slapped with an official reprimand and had my entire month's bonus docked. I wasn't having it. I marched straight to the Medical Affairs Office to hash it out with the manager, Gerald Sneed. "I've given this hospital ten years! Name one time I wasn't the first one in when it mattered! Last year, I pulled five surgeries back-to-back and collapsed on my feet by the end of it! What exactly did I do wrong that you're cutting my bonus over?" I was good at what I did, but my life outside the hospital was no easier. Mortgage, car payment, my kid's basketball lessons. I had been counting on that month's bonus to cover it, and now it was gone. I wasn't letting this slide. Since when did a successful surgery count as a mistake? Given my standing at the hospital, Manager Sneed didn't dare go toe-to-toe with me. Instead, he tried to smooth things over. "Dr. Cole, during that surgery you ran at three in the morning two nights ago, you drank two bags of glucose solution off the books, and it ended up billed to the patient. The family found out and accused us of overcharging. It's already blowing up online. Our hands are tied here." That's when it came back to me. That emergency surgery two nights ago had been a mess. It wasn't even supposed to be mine. I had already been on my feet in the OR for thirty-six straight hours, but the deputy director came looking for me and swore no one else could pull it off. So I gritted my teeth and scrubbed in. The surgery went perfectly. And somehow, that was what it got me. I took a breath and changed my tone. "I understand completely. This one's on me. I'll take a month off, go home, and think it over." Manager Sneed, pleased with himself for scoring one against me, approved the leave on the spot. What he didn't expect was that only a week later, the hospital director himself would call, begging me to come back to work.

The notice of my mother's layoff sat on the kitchen table. Rent was due in three days. My younger brother's tutoring fees were already two weeks late. And my little sister, Stephanie, clutched her acceptance letter to the local public arts high school like she'd done something wrong. None of this would be happening if it weren't for me. My illness had taken everything our family had saved. I stayed in my room, leaning against the door, wanting to tell them I'd drop out of treatment—but I couldn't bring myself to open it. "Why did he have to fall sick?" My mother was crying, her voice low and tight, like the words were being forced out of her. "If it were just you both, Stephanie and Jamie, we'd be fine by now." "Mom, please don't say that." My brother and sister held her, barely holding back their own tears. "He's a burden… but he's still my son." Her voice cracked. "I just… I can't do this anymore…" I stepped back and sank into my chair. It wasn't an accusation. It was a verdict.

I was the top repair specialist at a luxury goods store. Ninety percent of the shop's revenue came from my work alone. In three years, I turned a run-down little shop on the brink of closing into a nationwide chain. All because I clocked in two minutes late one morning, the newly appointed supervisor, Tom Menzie, locked the front doors and announced he was taking everyone on a company trip. I asked why no one bothered to tell me. Tom sneered, "Well, those who can do more are trusted with more. We're going on vacation. You stay and work overtime. If you can't handle it, then get the hell out!" I was so mad that I laughed. I called the owner directly. "I heard you're firing me."