Since Tuesday of last week, everyone has looked at me differently. When I walk into court, all conversation cuts short, and suddenly my heart beat is the loudest sound in the room. I struggle to still my quaking thighs as I stumble towards the desk. Indiscreet coughs of ‘whore’ follow me to my seat, and I feel what must be a hundred sets of eyes searing the word deep into the skin on my back, branding it on my forehead. Sitting down, I feel naked, exposed, and I wonder for the tenth time today if it was really worth filing the complaint That complaint. Sometimes I think it changed me more than the actual act did. But then I remember Tuesday of last week. ‘
It’s the end of another long, mediocre day at the office, and I’m putting the finishing touches on a report for my boss. Outside it’s dark, but in here fluorescent lights illuminate the computer screen in front of me with an intensity that has conjured a ruthless pounding in my left temple for the better part of the day. I’m surprised when a door swings shut in the building, I thought I was alone. Thinking nothing of it, I listen to the lock click into place before turning back towards the report, but jump when a shadow is reflected in the glossy screen. I turn slowly in my chair to find my manager staring down at me with an oddly off-putting intent in his eyes. ‘Hello sir, I thought you’d packed up for the day’. ‘Not quite yet’, he said. I notice the way his eyes never hold mine for long, always venturing lower down, but I don’t say anything. He is my boss, after all. ‘I’ve been watching you Jordana.’ He uses my full name, even though he knows I prefer Jordi. ‘Are you glad I gave you that promotion?’ ‘Yes sir, thank you’, I reply earnestly. ‘Hmm, yes. I wonder, are you really grateful?’ ‘Of course I am sir.’ ‘I don’t know, that was a big thing I did for you, don’t you think you ought to return the favour?’ He wets his lips as his words slide under my shirt, crawling down my back, and I shiver involuntarily. ‘Sir?’ His hand cups my face, fingers trail down my cheek. ‘You are a pretty thing, aren’t you? Wouldn’t now, when no one’s
Tuesday Of Last Week Maya Marek
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