The Breakdown
1147 Words
The office air was dry and too cold, as always. Katie sat at her desk, typing mindlessly through the latest memo, eyes stinging from lack of sleep and frustration. Her desk was pristine, her emails answered, and her deadlines met. None of it mattered.
Because he was watching again.
Mr. Callahan stood at the edge of the floor-to-ceiling windows in his corner office, angled just enough to look like he wasn't staring directly at her.
But he was.
He always was.
Katie tried to ignore it—just like she had done for the past six months. She adjusted her collar. Shifted in her chair. Focused on the screen. But she could feel his gaze like a hot, crawling line down her spine.
Somehow, she regretted not choosing to work in her family's law firm, but then again, she reminded herself that freedom was better than that.
A notification dinged on her computer.
CALLAHAN: Need a word. My office.
Her stomach dropped.
She stood slowly, legs shaky under her pencil skirt. She grabbed her notepad like this was just another meeting. Just another comment. Just another five minutes of pretending she wasn't disgusted, humiliated, tired.
She knocked.
"Come in," he said smoothly, not looking up.
He was tall, older, silver-haired with a smile like oil. A man who hid behind charitable donations and photos with politicians, the kind who knew his power and liked to stretch it out, thin and suffocating.
Katie walked in. She stood straight and held her breath.
He gestured to the chair. "You've been doing great work lately."
"Thank you," she said softly and sat down.
"I mean it. Your work is very impressive. Dedicated. Precise."
She forced a smile. "That's kind of you to say."
He leaned forward slowly. "You know, I could see you moving up in this firm. If you were willing to... expand your role."
Something in his tone made her stomach turn.
"You'd need to work closely with me. Very closely. We could discuss it more—maybe over dinner?"
Katie gulped. "I—I should get back to my desk."
He tilted his head. "Katie. Don't overreact. I'm giving you an opportunity." He said like he was trying to coax a child.
"Sir, like I told you yesterday and the days before that, I really am not interested".
He stepped towards where she sat, his eyes lingering at her bare thighs. "You have no ambitions Katie, and it saddens me. Let me help you". He touched the side of her arm making her jerk out of her chair.
"Mr Callahan, please be respectful". She muttered, her palms beginning to sweat out of nervousness and fear.
He stood in front of her, his five foot seven towering over her five foot four. She felt small compared to him. "Do you know what other girls would give for this opportunity?". He hissed at her.
"I assure you Mr Callahan, if I need to climb up the social ladder I won't have to work for your firm. Trust me."
With that, she opened the door without hesitation, her heart pounding, as she scurried out of his office. She hurried past her desk, through the hallway, and ducked into the ladies' room, locking the farthest stall door behind her.
And then she sank to the floor. It was happening again. Why was she always a target. She just wanted to prove to her parents that she could make it on her own but everything she became the target of some p*****t's obsessions.
Her hands were shaking. Her chest felt tight. She couldn't stop the tears this time. Couldn't keep them tucked behind a smile or buried under laughter. She pulled out her phone and hit Milly's name without thinking.
It rang once.
Twice.
"Katie?" Milly's voice was light and cheery. "Hey! I was just—wait, are you crying?"
Katie tried to hold it back but she failed.
"Katie. Talk to me."
"I—I didn't know who else to call," she whispered, trying to keep her voice down. "Milly, I don't know how long I can survive working here. I really don't want to work in my family's firm but my boss, Mr. Callahan—he just keeps—"
"What did he do?"
Katie pressed a trembling hand to her forehead. "He said I could move up. But only if I have dinner with him. Alone. And the way he said it, Milly... it isn't just dinner he wants. He has been making indecent remarks for almost six months now and today when he called me to his office...."
There was a rustle on the other end of the call. Movement. A shifting tone.
"Katie. Oh my God. Why didn't you tell me this was going on?"
"I thought I could handle it, I didn't want to also ruin your happy stuff. I didn't want to be the problem again."
"You are never a problem. I'm coming to your office right now."
"No! No, don't—I just needed to talk to someone. I'm in the bathroom. I'll be okay, I just—needed air. God he makes my skin crawl, I hate his touch." She sobbed.
On the other side of the call, Milly covered the receiver briefly—but Katie still heard it.
Yannis' voice.
"What's wrong? Who's crying?"
Katie froze.
Milly didn't answer quickly enough.
Yannis's voice came closer. "Milly. Give me the phone."
"No, Yiannis, it's fine—"
"Milly."
There was a pause. And then—
"Katie?"
It was him. Milly's fiancé . His voice—deeper, steady, serious. Too calm.
Katie wiped her face, horrified. She never let anyone see her weakness except Milly. She felt utterly embarrassed. "Yannis, I didn't mean for you to hear that." She muttered.
"What happened?"
"Nothing. Please, just—I'm fine."
"No, you're not." He sounded sharper now. "Did he touch you?"
"No. Really I'm fine." She tried to force a laugh.
"Did he threaten you?"
"He implied things. Like I'd lose my job if I didn't play along."
Silence.
Katie held her breath. The stall felt too small. Her knees were pressed to her chest. This wasn't who she was—this wasn't the strong, happy Katie everyone knew.
And yet, right now, she was unraveling. And Yiannis was hearing every piece fall apart.
"I'm going to handle this," he said finally.
"What? No. Please, really, I'm okay. I was just venting to Milly".
"That didn't sound like venting to me. And Katie?"
"Yeah?"
"You don't deserve this. And no one is going to treat you like that again. Not while I'm around."
Before she could answer, the call ended.
Katie sat there for a long time, staring at the phone, heart pounding with something she couldn't name.
Not relief. Not exactly fear.
Something in between.
Something that shifted the ground beneath her just a little.
- Writer
