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Chapter 2

Olivia

The journey into work is a nightmare, more of a nightmare than usual; the train is packed, beyond packed, although I probably need to accept some responsibility for being on the late train, the one that gets me to work on time, just, but I usually avoid taking it because it means I can't experience any further delays without being late and as I previously noted, it's crowded.

I am standing, along with many other commuters but unfortunately I have managed to find myself wedged between an occupied seat and a slightly overweight man who is standing close, too close, closer than I believe he needs to be; I can feel his belly pressed against my back, his breath on my neck and worse still a fledgling erection that I am sure he is rubbing against my behind. I want to get off the train, be sick or cry, maybe all three so I turn slightly to try and compose myself, to centre and refocus on something not involving the violation I currently feel. As I turn my head I get a whiff of my dry humper's breath and I can feel my stomach churning, so much so that the acidic taste in the back of my throat indicates that vomit isn't far behind.

"Would you like a seat? I'm getting off at the next station," the man sitting in front of me says with a smile as he prepares to stand.

"Thanks," I sigh with a grateful smile and am unsure if I allow him to fully get to his feet before I am sliding into his space where I feel more settled, safer. I avoid looking at the man who was getting off on our close proximity, focusing instead on the other commuters around me, some reading or working on computers, others talking on phones and a couple of women putting their make-up on until the train is pulling into my station.

I disembark quickly and with my feet safely enclosed in trainers I begin a swift walk come jog until I reach the foyer of the office building where I work. I kick my trainers off in a corner and dig in my rucksack for my heels that today are teal and match the button through blouse I am wearing perfectly whilst my black pencil skirt that finishes just above my knees provides the perfect contrast.

There's an odd sensation washing over me, as if I am being watched, scrutinised, but as I look around the only person I see glancing in my direction is the security guy on duty, my favourite, Sid; he's about fifty and very sweet, like a favourite uncle or dad.

"Morning young lady, you're cutting it fine," he tells me with a smile.

"I know, I know," I reply dashing towards the lift doors that have just closed. "Finer still now," I add with a smile for Sid.

The next lift arrives and is empty as I get in so I take the opportunity to give my appearance the once over; my near black hair has been very cooperative this morning and is up in a perfect 'messy' bun. I don't wear much make-up for work, well at all really, but due to the bags under my eyes I have used a foundation rather than my usual tinted moisturiser and highlighted my cheeks with a pink blusher that goes someway to mask just how pale I am, ridiculously so, in fact I sometimes think I am almost transparent, especially in the summer when I can burn from looking out of the window without sun screen.

My eyes look jaded and so they should I decide when I remember my lack of sleep, excess alcohol and equally excessive shagging! I have highlighted my lids with a golden coloured powder then added a touch of brown eyeliner and some dark brown mascara, the overall effect lifting the shadows and drawing attention to my actual eyes that are technically hazel, but in fact are more green than anything else and my look is completed with clear lip gloss.

I roll my canvas jacket up and push it into my rucksack with my trainers and wonder what I must look like to other people in my business dress and trainers and then my business dress and shoes with a great bloody rucksack on my back. I regret that it wasn't on my back this morning preventing the creepy guy on the train from being able to get quite so close.