September 2010. Monday.
Later that evening.
DCI Holly Boston arrived home late after her first day serving with the Metropolitan Police. The day had gone well until her colleague, DCI Chapelle, had sexually molested her in her office. Holly kicked off her low heels by the door to her new rented flat and took a deep breath. She carried her handbag and keys heavily into the living room to drop them off and then went straight into the kitchen. She opened a cupboard and pulled out the bottle of bourbon she had placed in there just a couple of days ago. A house warming gift from her brother. Holly couldn't be bothered to find a glass and used the mug she had filled with coffee earlier that day and poured a generous measure of alcohol into it. Another deep breath and a quick gulp of the smooth bourbon made her feel a little better.
She looked down at the kitchen counter and then noticed that she still had one button on her blouse still undone. She stared at the button intently. Her thoughts being pulled back to the moment that Chapelle had unbuttoned her blouse and slid his hand inside. Not just inside her blouse but inside her bra and squeezed her D cup breast. His fingers testing the size of her large nipple.
Holly closed her eyes and all she could think about was his large hand squeezing her breast and the way her body was physically, sexually, appraised without her consent. She shook her head replaying the moment over and over again in her mind. Why hadn't she said 'No' or 'Stop' or 'Get away from me!' or any number of things that she could have said and done in that moment?
Instead? She had kept silent. Done nothing. She hadn't tried to push him off. No attempt to escape his molestation. She had sat there and accepted what he had done to her. She had become frozen to her chair and her internal protest at what was happening to her was just that. An impotent internal protest.
