Framed as the Office Stink Bomb

It's summer now, and I've somehow become the stinkiest person in the entire company. Everyone says that I smell terrible. The doctors say that there is nothing wrong with my body, but my colleagues still avoid me like the plague at work. Even the intern secretly puts deodorant on my desk. I can't take it anymore and hand in my resignation. But on the day I'm processing the paperwork, my manager, Joel Winters, chases me to the elevators and stops me. His voice shakes as he says, "I'll give you 50 thousand dollars to continue sitting at your desk." I don't agree to it and call the police instead. When the police cut open the huge eight-foot teddy bear next to me, the entire office falls silent. Chapter 1 It was late May and just the start of summer. The central air conditioning at Starshade Creatives was set to 78 degrees, and I walked back to my desk with my iced coffee in hand. I paused for a bit as I passed the break room. Two of my female colleagues were huddled by the water dispenser, their shoulders close to each other as they whispered, a hand over their mouths. "Did you smell that? The place near the window? Something smells weird there." "I did. It's been there since yesterday. It stank so bad it gave me a headache." A layer of condensation formed on the walls of my iced coffee. The water trickled down my fingers, slightly tickling me. I instinctively lowered my head and sniffed at the collar of my white blouse that I'd pulled out of the fresh laundry last night. It was clean. I'd just changed into it this morning. I'd also sprayed on some gardenia perfume, and the top notes of citrus still lingered in the air. I walked out with the iced coffee in my hands. When my colleagues saw me, they immediately shut their mouths, their hands freezing midair as they averted their gazes, not daring to look me in the eyes. I said nothing and went back to my desk. There was a department meeting that afternoon, and I sat in the front row. Another male colleague had only just sat down opposite me when he quietly got back up, pulled his chair backward, and sat down again. He frowned slightly and held a hand over his nose. I tightened my grip on my pen. My nails dug into the palms of my hands. It hurt so much that it turned numb. When the meeting wrapped up, I pretended to bend over to tie up my shoelaces in the corner of the hallway. Two interns walked past me with some documents in their hands, saying in a low voice, "Does she really not smell anything? It's so embarrassing!" "Who knows? Maybe she's already used to the smell." I crouched on the floor. My shoelaces had already been done up a while ago. I pressed my fingertips against the cool tiles and lowered my head once more, not having the strength even to look up. That night, after going back to my rented apartment, I took three consecutive showers and scrubbed myself so hard until my skin turned bright red and burned with pain. I used three different kinds of body wash and made sure to wash my clothes with three types of detergent. I even stripped the sheets, pillowcases, and curtains to give them a good washing. The next day, I sprayed on an even more expensive perfume that I couldn't bear to use in the past, making sure every inch of my body was soaked with the flowery smell of roses. I looked at myself in the mirror and sniffed myself multiple times. I smelled good. Fragrant. When I went to the office, there were three people chatting happily in the elevator just as I got in. But the moment I stepped in, everyone fell silent. The three of them inched away from me and huddled toward the farthest corner in unison. One of them even held a hand to their nose and pinched it. It was as though they were trying to avoid the plague. My hand clenched tightly against my bag straps until my knuckles turned white. Later that afternoon, I met with a client. After shaking hands with them, they turned around and wiped their hands with a wet wipe and repeatedly cleaned their phone screen, again and again. I stood frozen in place, feeling my ear burning hot with embarrassment. Then, I received a Slack notification from the HR manager, Lola Thomas. "Amelia Summers, can you kindly come to the break room now?" When I walked in, there was a polite smile on Lola's face. She poured me a glass of lemonade and said, "Amelia, have you… Have you been feeling unwell lately? Would you like to take a few days off to recover if you're feeling too exhausted?" My hand around the lemonade glass trembled violently. The lemonade splashed out and landed on the back of my hand. It was icy-cold. But I felt as though I was being burned at the stake. … Ever since then, I scrubbed myself even more intensely than before. I showered three times a day. In the morning, I'd scrub myself with sulphur soap. During lunch break, I'd call an Uber home to shower and change into fresh clothes. At night, I soaked myself in the bath with vinegar. I switched out my perfume for five bottles, ranging from the lowest intensity to the highest intensity. I also bought three kinds of air freshener and deodorizer at home. Chapter 2 At work, my desk was also piled high with these things. There was a sandalwood diffuser. Activated charcoal packets. A humidifier. Solid air fresheners. Peppermint essential oils. Even deodorizing spray. I bought everything I could, and my desk soon became the most fragrant desk in the entire office. Anyone walking by would probably choke on how potent the scents were. But it was still useless. My colleagues would still instinctively fan their noses when walking by, and people would still try to avoid me in elevators. I was driven into a corner. I had no choice but to wake up at 6:30 am every day so that I could reach the office by 7:20 am, a good hour and a half before any of my colleagues usually trickled in. The first time I did this, I bumped into the cleaning lady, Mrs. Howell, who was mopping the floors. She was stunned when she saw me. "You're early, miss," she said. I forced a smile at her and headed for my desk with a bottle of disinfectant. Then, I disinfected my entire tabletop, my keyboard, my mouse, and my chair. I even cleaned the grout in between the tiles with an old toothbrush three times. Mrs. Howell handed me a dry rag. She didn't pry and just helped me clean everything up. There was a large pink eight-foot teddy bear placed toward the left side of my desk. I thought that it had always been there since the first day I came to work, but the admin manager, Nathan Bullock, told me that it was a prop from a previous company event. It was registered as an "asset" in the company, so we couldn't just dispose of it. I used to think that it was really cute back then. When I felt stressed at work, I would even reach over and pat it on the head a few times to destress. But then, I later learned that the teddy bear hadn't been placed there all along. Someone had deliberately placed it next to me. That morning, I finally couldn't hold back my curiosity and tugged on Mrs. Howell's sleeve. "Mrs. Howell, can you lend me your nose for a bit? Do you think something stinks here?" She came closer to me and sniffed around seriously. Then, her expression changed. My heart dropped to my stomach. "Mrs. Howell?" She didn't answer my question. Instead, she just pointed at the deodorizer on my desk and said, "Miss, it's no use no matter how much you spray this." I was stunned. "Why not?" Her lips parted, but she didn't say anything. I found out later that she'd accidentally bumped into the teddy bear while cleaning the place last month, and my manager, Joel Winters, had told her off angrily in front of the entire office for ten minutes. From then on, she never dared to touch that teddy bear again. After Mrs. Howell was done cleaning up and was just about to push her cart away, she suddenly stopped and looked at me like she was hesitating about telling me something. "Miss, if there's a chance for you to switch your desk, you'd better do so, and hurry." I froze, still clutching the wet rag. The cold water from it ran down my arm and dripped from my elbow to the floor, creating a splotch on the tiles. When I looked up again, I saw someone standing in the corner of the hallway. It was Joel. I didn't know how long he'd been standing there and listening to my conversation with Mrs. Howell. But the moment he realized that I had noticed him, he turned on his heels and left quickly, like he had something to hide. … That weekend, I went to three different departments at the hospital. I went to the dermatology department. The doctor checked me over and over and told me that there was nothing wrong with my skin, and I didn't have any body odor either. I then went to the endocrinology department. I had three vials of blood drawn, but all of my indicators were normal. I then went to the dentistry and gastroenterology department, and after the doctor checked me thoroughly, he wrote down a single line in the medical report. I picked it up and read it. "Mental health consultation recommended. Suspected anxiety related to the olfactory system." I sat on the long bench in the hospital hallway, staring intently at the line of words on my report. My tears fell onto the paper and blurred the black ink. Next to me, the patient was laughing while playing with his kid. Yet, here I was, clutching a medical report as my falling tears continued dripping onto the paper. At that point, I began getting suspicious of myself. Had I really gone crazy? Did the smell really not exist after all? But I couldn't possibly hallucinate my colleagues' aversion toward me, could I? After getting home that night, I threw all of the clothes I'd worn into the washing machine. Once they were washed and dried, I brought each clothing item to my nose and sniffed them hard. They were all clean. Even my bag, mask, and shoes were clean. The tote bag I'd had for three years also smelled clean and fresh. I sniffed each item again and again and could only determine that they smelled of nothing but detergent. The smell wasn't coming from me either. The moment I thought of that, I felt a chill run down my spine. I also remembered the hesitant look in Mrs. Howell's eyes the other day. Chapter 3 Apart from that, I also recalled Joel deliberately avoiding eye contact with me on several occasions. The office was equipped with CCTV cameras installed everywhere. Previously, some design drafts had gone missing, and Nathan had granted temporary access to every employee to check the playback of their desk surroundings. However, he never revoked access after that. I logged into the system on a hunch, and to my surprise, I successfully got in. My work desk was right in the line of sight from a CCTV camera, and so was the huge teddy bear. I replayed all the footage from a week ago and fast-forwarded until 9:00 am in the morning, when all my colleagues arrived at work one by one. When Dave Hawkins from the sales department walked past my desk, he frowned a little and instinctively covered his nose. I replayed that moment and enlarged the video. He hadn't been looking at me, but rather, the teddy bear next to me. My grip on the mouse tightened. I rubbed the edge of the mouse with my fingertips until it felt rough as I scrolled through the recordings frame by frame. All of my colleagues who frowned, covered their noses, and took detours around my desk hadn't been staring at me after all. They were all staring at the pink teddy bear next to me. I jumped to my feet at once, accidentally spilling half a cup of ice water on the table. The icy-cold water splashed into my lap as well, but I didn't feel it. I rushed over to the mirror. The woman looking back at me looked pale, sickly, and had serious dark eye circles. It dawned on me just then—everyone hadn't been avoiding me in the past two weeks. Rather, they'd been avoiding the teddy bear. … Early the next morning, I sat in my seat and stared at the pink teddy bear all day. I couldn't focus on a single task on my computer. When my colleagues finally went out during lunch break, I went to the washroom. I crouched in a corner while hugging my shaky knees. I couldn't stay here any longer. At 3:00 pm that day, I opened my email and drafted my resignation letter. "I would like to resign from my position due to personal reasons. Kindly approve my resignation. Thank you." I also CC'ed Lola and Joel in the email. The moment I clicked "send", I finally heaved a sigh of relief. As long as I was gone from this position, I wouldn't have to endure those inexplicable stares from my colleagues anymore. Joel's reply came in much quicker than I expected. Just five minutes later, he rushed over to my desk and said, "Amelia, come with me to the conference room for a bit." There were only the two of us there. The first thing he said to me was, "Are your colleagues not treating you well or making you feel uncomfortable? I'll hold a meeting tomorrow to tell them all off. Let's not be hasty with our decisions." I shook my head. "It's not that." "Then, is it your salary? Let me discuss increasing your salary with the CEO. I'll propose a 30% increase, effective immediately." I still shook my head. "It's not that either." Joel grew anxious. He placed his hands against the table and asked in a low voice, "Then, I hope you'll reconsider your resignation. The project we're all working on is due at the end of this month, and this is a critical period. We need you. You can't leave, Amelia." I looked at him and suddenly found it ridiculous. I'd only just joined the company three months ago and hadn't even joined the project's core group chat. So, how could he say that he needed me on this project? I insisted on leaving. When I was getting off work, I packed up all my things and headed for the elevator. The doors were just about to close when Joel suddenly rushed over to me and stopped the doors from closing. His palms were sweaty and clammy. He was literally shaking. "Amelia," he said. "I'll give you 50 thousand dollars. Just stay at your desk for another month. Just another month." I stared at him. "Why?" He gulped and didn't answer me. Instead, he took out his phone and immediately transferred the money to me as though he was scared that I would change my mind. Seconds later, my phone buzzed with a notification from the bank. I'd just received 50 thousand dollars from him. The transfer remark said, "Work from your desk." I stared at the four words and felt the hackles in the back of my neck rising. The look in Joel's eyes wasn't a plea for me to stay. Instead, it was fear. An immense fear. It was as though something terrible was going to happen if I left my desk. I didn't finish processing my resignation. I didn't promise him anything either. I went straight home that evening. Chapter 4 I couldn't sleep all night. I put all the evidence I had into a USB stick. I had secretly recorded three audio recordings of my colleagues talking. I screenshotted more than 40 images from the CCTV footage of my colleagues looking at the pink teddy bear next to me and arranged them chronologically. Then, I went through the company's website, looking up old news about their events. I then found a department group photo from three years ago when we just moved into the new office building. In the photo, a female employee named Maxine Thayer had been sitting near my current work desk. She was hugging that teddy bear. When I took a closer look, I saw that the teddy bear's neck was clean with no stitches. But the teddy bear in the office had a ring of crooked, hand-stitched thread running around its neck. The stitches were quick and tightly packed, suggesting that whoever did it had been in a great hurry. I checked the company database next and saw that Maxine's name had been erased from the records a long time ago. Another piece of evidence that I included in the USB stick was a screenshot of the transfer record of the 50 thousand dollars Joel gave me last night, along with the words "Work from your desk" attached to the record. At precisely 3:00 am that night, I brought all my evidence to the police station. The officer on duty was Officer Sarah Quinn. She looked to be in her 30s. When she heard my account, her brow furrowed deeper and deeper. She also cataloged and archived all the evidence I brought. Half an hour later, she came out of her office and said, "Ms. Summers, the information you provided is important, but I'm afraid that we can't classify it as a criminal case just yet. "However, we will work with the fire department and local police to conduct an on-site investigation under the guise of checking for the source of the odor and potential safety hazards. "If anything is confirmed to be abnormal at the scene, then we will take control of the situation at once." At 9:00 am the next day, the fire department and local police officers arrived at Starshade Creatives. All of the company's senior executives were shaken, including the CEO, Seth Foster, Lola, Nathan, and Joel. When Joel saw me entering the office behind Officer Quinn, the polite smile on his face froze at once. His face turned purple at first before turning pale. His legs turned to jelly, and he nearly crashed to the floor. I didn't look at him and headed straight toward my desk. I then picked up the eight-foot teddy bear next to me. The moment I picked it up, I smelled that strange, lingering odor clearly for the first time. It was the stench of decay mixed with a faint disinfectant smell. The smell was slowly seeping from the bear's belly. I held the teddy bear in my arms and stood in the middle of the office, speaking clearly but just loud enough for everyone to hear. "The stench is coming from inside this teddy bear." Joel was the first one to rush out and stop me. "No way! This property belongs to the company! You have no right to touch it!" Lola also tried to smooth things over. "Amelia? Is there a misunderstanding somewhere? You should just talk it out with us instead of acting rashly like this." Nathan slowly backed toward the door, his hand resting on the door handle. Officer Quinn stepped forward and sniffed as she crouched over. Her face turned grim at once. "Everyone. Back off," she said, showing her police badge. "There's a high chance that this item is involved in a criminal case, and it is now being temporarily seized for inspection in accordance with the law." Everyone fell silent at once. Even the whirring of the central air conditioning unit seemed particularly jarring now. Everyone's eyes were now on the pink teddy bear. The scissor blades sliced through the fabric and snipped all the haphazardly sewn threads clean. White cotton stuffing fell out and scattered all over the floor at once. However, there was half of a transparent plastic bag peeking through the center of the white stuffing. They looked like pale bone fragments. I covered my mouth and backed away at once. Officer Quinn crouched down and looked at them silently. Then, she continued pulling out more stuffing from the bear, revealing two more such bags of bones inside. She then spoke softly as though she was afraid of interrupting something. "Three bags. Their preservation conditions are all different." After a short pause, she said, "These remains belong to at least two people." My legs turned to jelly, and I knocked over the chair behind me. The teddy bear's face was still intact, and its round eyes were staring at me, its lips curled up into a smile that now looked extremely sinister.