Emotional Damage Artinya

My twin sister, wanting to be with her thug boyfriend, secretly planned to apply for a junior college. When I could not talk her out of it, I told our parents and managed to stop her. However, just a month into the new semester, her thug boyfriend cheated on her. She left a suicide note, blaming it all on the long distance between them. She wrote that if she had gone to that junior college, her boyfriend would never have cheated. Grief‑stricken, my parents turned all their rage on me. "You wretched girl, this is all your fault for meddling! What business was it of yours which school your sister went to? Even if she didn't go to college, we could still support her. We didn't need your big mouth!" "If it weren't for your spiteful tongue, your sister wouldn't be dead!" "We were cursed to have a vicious, unfilial daughter like you!" They locked me in her room, ordering me to repent. Then they took her ashes on a trip, saying they wanted her to see the beautiful mountains and rivers she never got to visit in life. A month later, they returned from their travels to find me long dead, starved to a withered husk in front of my sister's photo. Their eyes held no grief, no guilt, only a faint, scornful curl of the lips. In their eyes, my death was nothing more than justice served. My broken soul saw their icy expressions, and despairing tears burned my eyes. Then my sister's familiar voice rang out again: "What business is it of yours which school I go to? You're just jealous that I have a boyfriend, aren't you?"

After graduation, I struggle to find a job, while my girlfriend easily lands a position at a major company. She has been with me for two years, and to cheer me up, she even lets me hold onto her payroll card. Once I finally start working, she worries about my long commute and immediately buys me a car. Everyone around us envies me for having such a thoughtful girlfriend. To save up for a house, I secretly deposit my salary into her account. A year later, we decide to get married. Excited, she grabs my hand and says, "I know you don't have much saved. I don't need any wedding gift. All I want is your love." I am deeply touched by her consideration. But on our engagement day, she pulls out photos of me with a dozen women and accuses me of cheating. I look closely and realize I have never even met any of them. Then she shows me my card's transaction history, filled with charges at the notorious Solara Club. "You had my payroll card, and you used my money to indulge yourself!" she cries. "I'm not marrying you. Return my car and all the money you spent over the years. It adds up to 800 thousand dollars." I calmly place the payroll card she gave me on the table and say with a smirk, "Fine, let's settle this properly." When I present the detailed account prepared by my top lawyer, she is stunned.

At the contract-signing meeting, a major client casually asks our new technician if she can handle her alcohol. She immediately pours a glass of red wine over his head and says coolly, "This sort of socializing is a bad habit. I'm putting an end to it." Leon Langley, a top client who brings the company 300 million dollars in annual revenue, flies into a rage and tears up the contract on the spot. As the project lead, I bend over backward to apologize and drink with Mr. Langley until I'm hospitalized with gastric bleeding—just to salvage the deal. When I report the incident to my boss, he scolds me instead. "As the person in charge, you nearly ruined the project. Forget the three-million-dollar commission we planned to give you. Consider this a warning." After that, I put Hannah Storrie's name on the department's downsizing review list. She sneers. "I'm a top talent the boss poached at great expense. I'm not some cheap hostess who survives by smiling and drinking like you. "Firing me would be throwing the company down the drain. When that happens, you'll be begging me to come back." I ignore her. However, when the review period ends, the name on the layoff list turns out to be mine. My boss seizes the opportunity to announce that Hannah will replace me as the new sales director. "Clients are extremely important to us. You don't seriously think you're capable of landing them, do you? "Hannah's is more qualified, more tech-savvy, and prettier than you. She's clearly the better choice." I simply smile, turn around, and dial a number.

My boss had a new boyfriend called Eugene Larson. The first day he came to the office, he put on a great show of exerting his dominance. He deleted my number from my boss's phone right in front of me. Eugene waved his phone in front of me while playing innocently. "You can talk to me about anything you need to communicate to Tina, Mr. Sanders. I'll help you pass the message to her. I don't have much sense of security, so please don't mind this. It's to avoid any misunderstanding between us." I was hoping my boss, Tina Kayden, would be able to say something fair on my behalf, but all she did was stare at Eugene approvingly and adoringly throughout the conversation. She turned to me and said, "This is a pretty good plan, Mr. Sanders. Do take good care of Eugene from now on." As there was no way for me to reject her, I was forced to add Eugene's contact to my phone. However, the moment he had my number, he flooded my phone with messages. [Mr. Sanders, is the client you're meeting tomorrow with the surname Charleston a man or a woman?] [Where are you having the meeting tomorrow? Wear something casual tomorrow. It would be best if you avoid washing your face and hair. Otherwise, I would think you're trying to seduce my wife.] [I believe your relationship with Tina is innocent. You're not allowed to betray me because I'm treating you like my buddy!] [By the way, you have an extra duty from now on. You need to remind Tina every 30 minutes to send me a message telling me that she loves me.] As I read these ridiculous messages, I laughed in anger. I put my phone on silent mode and flung it to the side before going to bed. The next morning, I woke up to dozens of missed calls on my phone.

During the holiday season, a flood hits. The company's warehouse is submerged up to the third floor. Due to the emergency, I have my assistant tell everyone to come back a day early to help. I promise that the company will provide stipends and extra time off to make up for this. But on that day, a Gen Z employee goes live across the internet to report me. "Oh, my God. It's 2025, yet there are still companies forcing employees to adjust their time off and work overtime! Is this heartless boss so broke that she needs to exploit us like this? Will she die if she doesn't squeeze us out of every drop of usefulness? Company notices override the law. Impressive stuff, this is!" Soon, the company ends up on the trending list due to criticism from the online community. Even the regulators come knocking to hold us accountable. In the end, the company is forced to cancel the notice. A lot of equipment isn't salvaged in time, resulting in significant losses. The employee even posts a victory lap. "Give the boss a tiny lesson—see if she dares to force overtime again!" I'm so angry that I laugh out loud. I tell my assistant to cancel the annual benefit we give all employees—an entire month of paid time off for Christmas and the New Year holidays. If we have to stick strictly to the law, then fine. Have it your way!

Yvette Skye has been diagnosed with depression. She thinks her parents will understand her situation, but all she gets is boundless mockery and doubt. After her affair with her sister’s boyfriend is found out, she dies in an accident. After her death, her biased parents suddenly start to regret their actions.

I happen to come across a popular post regarding a company's finance department on social media. "Seriously, that person in the sales department is such an idiot! All I wanted was to claim reimbursement under her name for the bag I bought, and yet she still refused! "Since she doesn't want me to reimburse my bag, then she can forget about reimbursing everything! This time, I'll teach her a lesson about what happens when she offends a member of the finance department!" There are many bashing comments in the comment section, but the original poster doesn't care at all. She continues adopting a haughty tone. "What am I scared of? The finance department is extremely vital to the company! I refuse to believe that the boss has the courage to offend me, the most important person alive, just to stand up for a sales employee who's easily replaceable!" As I stare at the familiar profile picture belonging to the original poster, I can't help but mentally sneer. She wants to suspend all of my reimbursements, huh? Go ahead, then! This time, I'd like to see what the consequences are for offending a member of the finance department!

The moment I was born, my mother implanted a chip in my brain and began shaping me into her idea of a perfect daughter. She blocked my sense of hunger so I would only have simple meals daily to maintain the "ideal" figure. She erased my ability to feel pain so she could inject me with endless chemicals to keep my skin smooth and flawless. She tampered with my senses, deleting every trace of negative emotion from my mind, all so I could remain eternally innocent. I couldn't tell right from wrong. I didn't know sadness or anger. I only knew how to smile. When the neighbor's dog died, I smiled and was scolded harshly for being heartless. When my classmates bullied me, I smiled and became the class freak. When my grandfather passed away, I smiled again, and my relatives cursed me for being soulless. Eventually, my father couldn't take it anymore. He left us. Mom, however, didn't seem to care. "They don't understand," she told me. "Everything I've done is for your own good. One day, you'll thank me." … On my 18th birthday, she planned a grand live broadcast, ready to show the world her perfect creation. She never knew that the day before her grand broadcast, I had already lost myself completely. By then, I was no longer human. I had become a machine.

During a critical heart transplant, my doctor husband insisted his intern assist despite her garish nail art compromising the sterile field. When I called her out, he abandoned the patient mid-surgery to comfort her. I begged him to return, but he snapped, "Giselle is upset. Can't you wait? This is nothing compared to her feelings." 40 minutes later, the patient bled out and died. Later, they discovered that he was our highly respected mayor and placed the blame on me. "If it weren't for you causing a scene and kicking us out of the operating room, the mayor wouldn't have bled to death. This is all your fault!" Defenseless, I was sentenced to life in prison, tortured, and died in agony. My husband and his intern walked down the aisle, enjoying their happy life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of that fateful surgery.

A Gen Z employee named Sylvie Mercer has reported me to the Department of Labor by claiming that I've forced all employees to work on the year-end holidays. But the truth is, I've given the entire company a nine-day vacation just to celebrate the year-end holidays. Those who are willing to work overtime shifts will be paid three times their usual salaries and given an additional five-thousand-dollar bonus. Sylvie keeps crying on the internet about how all the employees, including her, are forced to trade their lives for money. Thanks to her, the entire Internet keeps bashing me. So, I decide to follow the public opinion by releasing an announcement. "In order to ensure all employees' health, the company's doors shall be locked during the year-end holidays. Do note that the electric supply will be cut off as well. No one is permitted entry into the company." As soon as the announcement is released, the employees who plan on earning extra money in order to pay off their mortgages all rush toward my office in alarm.