The Slave of Pleasure
Chapter 2

Rachel

"I never did anything like that! Whoever is saying this is lying. That's not true!"

The HR manager looked sympathetic, but her expression didn't change. The lawyer next to her remained silent, observing the situation as if it were just another ordinary day for him. My boss, sitting silently in the corner, barely glanced at me. It was as if he had already judged and condemned me.

"I understand this is a shock, Rachel," the manager continued, trying to keep her tone calm. "But we need to investigate these allegations seriously. Until everything is clarified, you will be placed on paid leave, starting today." My world seemed to fall apart. I was being accused of something horrible, something I never did, and now, on top of everything, I was going to be removed from my job, not knowing if I would ever be able to return. What was happening? How had my life gotten to this point?

I felt anger boiling inside me, as if a volcano about to erupt was about to explode. The news of the accusation was unbelievable, but what shocked me most was the fact that I was being accused of something so horrible while I myself had been the victim of harassment, and no one seemed to care.

"I need to know who is behind this complaint!" I exclaimed, my voice shaking with the mix of anger and despair. "Who had the courage to accuse me of something like that? I need to know!"

The HR manager looked at me with a worried expression, but her posture didn't change. She seemed to be preparing to answer a difficult question. The lawyer next to her was still maintaining his formal silence, as if he was preparing to deal with a situation that was clearly beyond his control.

"Rachel," the manager began, trying to remain calm, "we cannot reveal the identity of the person who made the report. Confidentiality is an important part of the investigation process. However, please understand that the report needs to be taken seriously."

I was about to explode. It was a cruel and unfair blow. "Confidentiality?" I shouted, standing up from my chair, unable to control my frustration. "You're telling me someone accused me of harassment, and I don't even have the right to know who it was? This is absurd!"

"Rachel, please try to calm down," the HR manager said, with a tone that tried to be comforting but only made my anger grow. "We are just following standard procedures. The investigation will be conducted fairly."

Fair? How could I be fair if I was the real victim here? What they didn't seem to understand was that since I started working here three years ago, I had experienced continuous harassment from my boss. He made me feel like I was always at the mercy of his desires, and I felt helpless, not knowing where to turn. The same boss who was now there, silently, observing the entire scenario, without a word to defend me.

"Do you want to know what harassment is?" I challenged, my voice thick with indignation. "I'm the victim here! Since I entered this office, this fat old man has been making unwanted advances, invasive looks, and inappropriate comments. He groped me. No one did anything to protect me or stop this!"

"You know, Richard," I began, my voice sharp, "I could list all the times you crossed the line. Like those afternoons when you asked me to stay in your office to 'work some more,' and I knew it was really just an excuse to touch me inappropriately."

He looked calm, but there was a gleam of arrogance in his eyes. "Rachel, this is a complete fabrication. There never was anything like that. You are trying to divert attention from the fact that you are the one committing an infraction." My anger bubbled even more. "Invention? And what about the times you tried to kiss me, saying it was part of 'teamwork'?"

Richard raised an eyebrow, as if the situation were a joke to him. "Rachel, you are exaggerating. These are just misunderstandings, and I would never have done anything to harm you."

I laughed, a dry, bitter laugh. "Misunderstandings? Let's be honest. You know the only thing you were getting wrong was your inappropriate behavior. You harassed me in so many ways, and I was so desperate to keep my job that I tried to ignore it, but now, look at what you did!"

The HR manager tried to intervene, but I wasn't willing to stop. "You can't deny what you did, Richard! I have witnesses, evidence. I'm not the only one who noticed the way you act. Do you think you can continue this power play, and no one will stand up to you?"

Richard made a disdainful face. "I don't know who you're talking to, but these allegations are absurd. I have always behaved professionally towards all my employees."

"Professional?" I challenged, voice shaking with the intensity of my emotions. "Do you think I'm going to stay here and let you get away with it? If you can't admit what you did, then I'm not going to stay here another minute. I will seek justice, even if it means exposing everything that happened!"

The HR manager looked at Richard with an indecisive expression, while the lawyer seemed to be assessing the situation with a neutral look. Richard finally addressed me, his tone cold and unforgiving. "Rachel, I understand that you are angry and frustrated, but you are fired. This is not a debate. Your conduct here was unacceptable and, considering the circumstances, I see no other way out."

I left the room with a whirlwind of emotions, my hands shaking as I grabbed my things from the office. The feeling of betrayal and injustice still burned in my chest. I no longer cared about the office decor, the tone of the walls or the curious looks of my colleagues. All I wanted was to get out of there as quickly as possible.

My things were scattered in a random corner of the room, and I threw everything haphazardly into my bag. Each item seemed to carry the weight of my indignation and despair. My friends' photos, my personal documents, everything was mixed together in a disorganized tangle. I didn't have time to organize anything; I just needed a way out.

The feeling that my life was crumbling around me accompanied me with every step I took towards the exit. The corridor was as long as the path to the end of the world, and each step felt heavier than the last. I could barely see where I was going, my vision blurred by the tears that threatened to escape at any moment.

Finally, I reached the exit door and opened it with a final burst of anger. The sunlight outside seemed cruelly indifferent to my mood, and the contrast between the brightness of the day and the darkness I felt in my heart was almost unbearable.