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I didn’t think I was that long in the break room.
“Mr. Neal, don’t touch me,” I say clearly, projecting confidence into my voice I don’t feel.
“Stop playing games with me.” His voice comes out angry as he shoves me down onto my desk and holds me there with one hand. The phone falls from my grip, forgotten in my panic. He lifts my skirt up and roughly feels me up.
Tears gather in my eyes that this is happening to me.
“Don’t.” I push away from the desk but only manage to turn over from my stomach to my back where he pins me again, this time adding the pressure of his hips against mine. His free hand palms my breast over my button-down blouse.
“You have the best tits.” He pinches my nipple through the thin fabric of both my bra and blouse. A whimper of pain escapes me and he leans down to kiss my neck. I try to move his hand with my own but he ends up ripping open my shirt, buttons flying in all directions.
I turn my head away from him, feeling around on my desk for anything that I might be able to fight him off with. Noticing, he captures my hands in one of his and pins them above my head. Bucking my hips, I try to dislodge him, but he’s stronger and bigger than me.
“Stop,” I plead with him, but my pleas are ignored.
I feel him undoing his pants and sliding my panties over. Knowing I’m helpless to stop what’s about to happen I go limp, tears streaming down my face.
A shout stops him just before he’s able to complete the act of raping me, and then he’s yanked off me and Alaric is there. He pins Mr. Neal up against the wall and slams his fist into his face and stomach several times. All I can do is watch, shaking like a leaf, not able to move from the spot.
In a far-off part of my brain I know I need to do something to stop him, but I can’t get my limbs to obey me. It’s like I’m frozen. More like petrified.
I think I make a sound but I’m not sure. The blood rushing in my ears blocks out all other sounds. Alaric looks at me and something changes in his demeanor because he stops beating Mr. Neal to a pulp. Then he turns toward me, approaching me slowly.
“Elle,” Alaric says my name as he gets to me and gathers me in his arms. I burrow into him, shaking and exposed down to the nerve. My tears continue as I vaguely register Alaric on the phone with the police.
I can’t get close enough to him. I want to melt into him and vanish from here. From what almost happened. From whatdidhappen.
“I’m here now. I’ve got you,” he whispers words of comfort to me between relaying information to the police on the phone.
I rest my cheek on his chest and listen to the rapid beating of his heart. My eyes drift over to where Mr. Neal is sitting, restrained and bloodied on the floor.
Shouts of the police announcing themselves draw Alaric’s attention. He tries to move away from me, but I hold fast to him, afraid that if he lets me go I’ll fall apart and won’t be able to be put back together.
“Don’t leave me,” I plead, burying my face into his chest and gripping his shirt in both my fisted hands.
Alaric pulls me back and his eyes ping pong between mine but eventually, he gives in and gathers me close again and holds me tight.
“I’m not going anywhere.” The pain is clear in his voice, and my heart breaks for him. For putting him through this with me. If I could have saved him from this I would have.
When the police make it to us, two come to us and two head directly to Mr. Neal. I watch as they haul him up and take off the phone cord, replacing it with handcuffs.
Alaric talks with the police and shortly after they take Mr. Neal away, EMTs come over to me to look me over.
I don’t want them touching me though. I flinch away from them and Alaric tightens his arms around me.
“We need to check her out,” one of the EMTs says softly.
“She doesn’t want to be touched by you. I’ll take her to the hospital to get checked out,” he promises.
Their tone says they don’t like it, but what can they do? “Okay, just be sure to go straight there. We’ll let them know to expect you.”
“I will,” Alaric assures them and stands with me in his arms leading the way to the elevator and out of the building. His car is parked half on the curb and half off of it.
“What happened to your car?” I ask in puzzlement. He helps me in and goes around getting in the driver's side.
“I heard you on the phone. I was calling to tell you that I was almost here and I wanted you to wait outside at the curb for me. But then,” he swallows audibly and a tear falls from his eye, “I wasn’t going to waste time parking correctly.”
My heart breaks just a bit more with his shed tear and I nod, not able to get my voice to work.
