Resting my weight on the sink in front of me, I looked into the mirror at the face staring back at me. I didn't recognise myself; my eyes were streaming, leaving black mascara trails down my cheeks which were still burning red from where he had struck me. I could feel myself shaking from the shock of what had just happened and I struggled to catch my breath.
I stood there for several minutes, trying to pull myself together. Once I had finally calmed down enough to trust myself to stand unaided, I turned on the tap and splashed my face with water, drying it after with a paper towel and pulled a hair band out of my pocket to tie up my now-tousled hair. Taking a few deep breaths I walked, shakily, towards the door.
My instinct was just to run, get out of there and never come back. The logical side of me, however, thought it would be better to talk to my boss. It'd be safer for me to ask him for help rather than wander around outside, alone, in the middle of the night, especially in the state I was in.
I approached his office and entered without knocking. He was sitting at his desk and looked up at me, slightly annoyed at being disturbed.
"I thought our discussion was over." he said bluntly, not seeming to notice my distress or my dishevelled appearance. I closed the door and sat down on the opposite side of the desk. He looked at me, waiting for me to say something and I fidgeted uncomfortably under his stare. I didn't know how to find the words to describe what had just happened and couldn't meet his eyes.
"Are you here for a reason or are you just going to sit there all night?" he asked, to the point.
"I'm sorry." I managed to mutter in reply, and I could feel unwanted tears brimming in my eyes. I took a deep breath, attempting to fight them off. He continued glaring at me with no word of comfort. "I- something just happened. I can't- I don't know how to say it."
I bit my lip but I couldn't hold it back any longer -- I burst into tears in front of him, unable to stop it. He continued watching me as I sat there in front of him, my sobbing uncontrollable and he made no move to comfort me. Eventually the tears subsided and I managed to look up at him. His eyes looked cold and uncaring.
"Have you finished now?" he asked, sounding bored. I didn't know what to say in reply. "Are you going to explain what this is about?" he demanded.
"I was attacked," I managed to answer, "by a member of staff."
He frowned at me. That wasn't the response I was hoping for. "Would you like to expand on your accusation?" he asked with a threatening note to his voice.
I took another deep breath. "A member of staff... forced himself on me." I had to look away from him. Saying it out loud made it so much more real and I had to grip onto the bottom of the chair to keep myself steady.
"And?..." he asked in reply. That made me look up - I couldn't quite believe his response. "Did you hear what I said?" I asked him, confused.
"Yes, of course, and I'm sure you remember what we discussed earlier. I told you the way you were dressed would have an effect on my men. If anything happened it was entirely your own fault."
