“I’ve watched almost all the footage, but you know perfectly well that I wouldn’t be able to see what happened at the kitchen entrance. We don’t have cameras here.”
I’m not even bothered by his insinuation that I sold myself for money anymore. What I immediately grasp is the fact that he says we don’t have cameras at the kitchen entrance, which is exactly where we are now. If he does something to me, it won’t be recorded.
Trying to breathe to calm myself, I glance over his shoulder at the clock on the wall and realize it’s time for the first customers to arrive. But before I can even enjoy the feeling of relief, he twists my arm behind my back. Thomas is so close I can feel his breath.
“Let go of me. You must be crazy. Don’t do something you’ll regret. You’ll be a father in a few months.”
Remember what I said about nervousness? I keep talking non-stop, desperately trying to argue for him to snap back to reality, but he only moves closer.
“Are you one of those who fight?” he asks, mocking, as he grabs one of my breasts.
“You can bet your life on it, you idiot.”
With my free hand, I grab a pan from the shelf and with all the strength I have, I hit him in the face. I hope it knocks him out, but it only makes him release my arm. He’s still standing.
Forgetting all my belongings, I run to the door, but before I even reach the handle, I feel his hand grab my hair from behind with such force that I’m sure he’s ripped out a handful of it.
“What’s going on here?”
I almost cry with relief when I see a police officer—who is one of my morning clients— enter, but the relief is quickly replaced by panic when I hear what Thomas says next:
“She stole money from the cash register.”
“That’s a lie. Help me. He was trying to touch me against my will,” I blurt out, incredibly nervous.
“It doesn’t matter what you say she did. Let her go,” the officer commands, putting his hand on his holster, where his gun is.
Thomas hesitates for a moment, and the pain in my head is intense, but when he finally obeys, he practically shoves me, causing me to lose my balance.
“What happened, Olívia?” the officer asks.
“He accused me of providing . . . um . . .sexualfavors to a client in exchange for a hefty tip, and then he tried to grab me.”
“You lying whore. I’ll ruin your life. She’s lying. You can check the cameras. She spent a few minutes in the morning with a client at the kitchen door. If it wasn’t sexual favors, she probably robbed the poor guy.”
“Ah, don’t worry. I’ll check the cameras. Especially that last part of the night when you chased an employee to the door, applying physical force to try to stop her.”
“They’re currently off, unfortunately,” Thomas replies.
Hearing that gives me the certainty that I need to get out of here. He knew what he was doing by confronting me, and now I realize he had bad intentions from the beginning.
“You’re out, Olívia. Grab your things and hit the road.”
“Can I file a harassment complaint?” I ask the officer, because either way, I wouldn’t stay. How could I feel safe with that lunatic around?
“Have you lost your mind? If you do that, I’ll accuse you of theft!”
“Yes, you can,” the officer replies, ignoring him. “Do you need me to accompany you to the back of the store, miss?”
“If you could come with me, I’d appreciate it, yes.”
I’m doing my best to show strength, but my body trembles so much that I feel like I’m going to fold in half.
When we reach the entrance to the employee restroom, the officer speaks again. “Olívia, is this the first time this has happened?”
“Yes. Like this, yes. Before, he just made insinuations that made me uncomfortable.”
“I presume you don’t want to go to the station today.”
