Page 51 of Peep

I’ve not had my head in the game since Dad’s death, but it doesn’t help that my boss’s flip-flopping personality has me walking on eggshells. One minute he’s praising me, telling me I’m the best and my skills far surpass those of my colleagues. The next, I’m incompetent, and he’s berating my every action. What disturbs me most about him is the way he routinely makes sexual innuendos and gives me lingering touches that I didn’t fucking ask for.

I stand in silence as he takes a seat opposite me at his desk. He nods towards the door. “Lock it.”

Confusion creases my brows. “What? Why?”

He huffs, shoving out of his seat and storming to the door before clicking the lock.

My eyes shoot to the door handle; hands balling into fists as my fight-or-flight instincts kick in.

“Please take a seat.” He gestures towards the chair. “I want to discuss the next steps in your career without being disturbed.”

My shoulders uncurl slightly, and I force down the urge to run. Discussing your career path with your boss at 2 a.m. behind a locked door is normal, right? I’m fucking delusional. The only reason I’m still here and putting up with my boss’s shit is because becoming a surgeon is a lifelong dream of mine, and I know it would make my dad proud.

I perch on the edge of the seat, unable to fully unwind as he starts pacing behind me.

He goes into an exhausting monologue about what it takes to be a good doctor. He tells me how much potential I have and inappropriately jokes about how all the nurses fancy me. I see right past his negging; not a single word out of his mouth is believable, but I dutifully nod along with an added fake smile here and there for effect.

Twenty minutes pass, and I rub my eyes. I allow myself to sit back in the chair as exhaustion claims me.

“So, you see, this is why I want to help you, Jahmar. I hold a lot of power in the department, and with my recommendation, you can go far.”

“Thank you,” I reply, knowing I missed half of what he said because I’d zoned out.

When a strong hand clasps my shoulder, I flinch. There’s a slight ringing in my ears like an internal alarm bell, alerting me that danger is coming.

He lowers his voice, “Relax, kid, we all need to relieve a little stress sometimes. Finding release is important in our line of work.”

With both hands now on my shoulders, he begins a slow massage. Every muscle in my body tightens, and my heart beats frantically as it tries to battle its way out of my chest. Dread whirlpools inside my stomach. The little food I ate earlier threatens to reappear. I force myself to swallow down the bile rising in my throat.

I allow him to rub my shoulders until I can’t stand it anymore. “No, stop,” I snap, shrugging him off. “This…this isn’t appropriate.” I climb to my feet, keeping my back on him and trying to calm my racing heart by clutching the edge of the table.

His large hand circles the back of my neck, and before I can react, he shoves me forward and slams me face-first onto his desk.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I cry out as my body convulses with panic.

A dark chuckle is the only response I get before he presses his full weight over me. He licks a stripe up my neck until he reaches my ear, making my stomach curdle.

My body clenches tight enough to shatter, and I let out a pained grunt.

“Shhh now, don’t make this difficult,” he murmurs against my ear, making a sickening shiver travel down my spine. “I can give you the career of your dreams, or I can give you hell. Which would you prefer?”

I struggle against his hold, kick out with my heel, and use my elbows in an attempt to fight him off, but when he slams his fist into the side of my head; my vision doubles.

And then, I freeze. I fucking freeze.

I should scream, shout, or fight. I should do anything to stop this fucking assault, but my soul and consciousness leave my body. As he roughly forces himself into me, my eyes stay glued to Newton’s cradle balls that swing on his desk—back and forth they go, rocking in time to me being raped.

On the outside, I remain silent.

Inside, I’m screaming as he tears my world apart, piece by fractured piece.

What followed was more hell. It took me months before I found the courage to report the assault because he persistentlythreatened my job. I should’ve told them sooner, but I was ashamed. It was my word against his and not an inkling of evidence to support my claim. After a flimsy internal investigation, it was brushed under the rug.

He then decided to make my life a misery, cutting me out of meetings and failing me during parts of my training. It was all under the radar, so subtle no one else would’ve noticed. So I left. I hung up my hope of ever making my parents proud and gave him what he wanted—my silence.

He thought he’d got away with it, that he’d won, but as I examine my favourite scalpel and prepare to slice into his skin—I know I’ve won.

Chapter 23

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