The doorway filled with a dark, gaping shadow. It closed off the room, blocking the only exit. He had to angle his shoulders in the door frame just to press his cold, terrifying presence into the room. The screen lights from small computers pierced in through his eyes, bounced off dark, hard-set eyebrows, and angled sharply down his pallid nose, before resting on the yellow stains of a commanding sneer. The air was drenched quickly in the stench of tobacco, strong enough to send flashbacks of father coming home filled with liquor, gambling, and rage. The textured gray suit maneuvered closer, exercising control and dominance over whoever the red tie glared down on first. All the breaths in the cramped work space staggered and fell short, crowded out by his crawling and slimy voice. He blew in my ear,
”I expect to see you working overtime, darling.”
The rough calloused hand brushed against the hem of my skirt until I shuddered. He pulled away and left once the chill bumps on my legs met his palms.
__________
He slid away stone silent. Her tremble felt electrifying through his hand. No, her terror felt electrifying. The helplessness. Who would give her a second thought? She was another voice and another forgotten. It was deliciously satisfying. She wouldn’t dare question his power.Unless she didn’t want her –their– baby eating tomorrow. He gave her a chilling glare over his towering frame, letting the fear suffocate her sobs and lock her away behind him.
Creativity
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I want to say that you wrote this very well with the amount of detail you used to describe this scene. It is so sad that a lot of the time when these things happen, they go unspoken of or the victim is forced to keep it to themselves and live through that pain of remembering the violation that was done to them. Just awful.