Becca’s Disappearance
The morning after Greg’s ‘retirement’ announcement, I woke up to a flurry of texts from former colleagues. ‘Cathy, have you seen this? Becca’s gone. Like, GONE gone.
‘
I grabbed my phone and immediately checked her Instagram account—the one where she’d posted those mocking videos of me. Error message. Her TikTok? Deleted. Twitter? Vanished into thin air.
It was as if she’d been erased from the digital world overnight. Janet, my old cubicle neighbor, called me directly.
‘You wouldn’t believe how quickly they’re pretending she was never here,’ she whispered, clearly calling from the bathroom to avoid being overheard.
‘They cleared out her desk yesterday evening. No announcement, no goodbye email, nothing. Her nameplate’s already gone.’ I sat at my kitchen table, coffee growing cold, as the reality sank in.
The woman who’d tormented me, who’d stolen my promotion and orchestrated my firing, had disappeared without a trace. Part of me felt vindicated—justice was finally happening. But another part felt uneasy.
Companies don’t just erase people unless they’re desperate to hide something even bigger. ‘Did anyone say anything official?’ I asked Janet. Her response sent chills down my spine: ‘That’s the creepiest part, Cathy.
When someone asked HR about her in the morning meeting, they just said, “We don’t discuss personnel matters” and changed the subject. It’s like they’re terrified.
‘