~~~February 24th 2015~~~

I wake up on the floor, still in my uniform. Then all the memories flood back- the trip, the slap, the daze. The dinner. I get up and walk to the door. Yep, the food is still there. Turns out that lasagne starts to smell after like what, 12 hours? I pick it up and carry it to the kitchen at arms length where Amy is making a full English. She looks at me reassuringly and offers me some eggs. I hastily turn my nose up as we both know I hate them and she laughs. I put last night's plate on the side and take a shower. The water soothes my aching arms from where I slept in an awkward position; the trickling sounds relaxing my mind and the knot forming in my stomach. I think I can walk into work today now the water has cleansed that fog away.

I get changed and grab some toast as I head out. Amy's off work today so tells me whilst I'm on the way out that she's gonna clean up the apartment before the landlord gets here. She doesn't mention yesterday so I don't bring it up either. I nod and shut the door behind me.

Walking towards the tube station, the knot in my stomach starts to retie itself. I try to think positively and the pain fades- but not for long. This internal battle continues the entire journey. By the time I'm at the door, it's only slightly twisted. I ignore it and walk through the door with my head high.

I am greeted by a warm breeze of air and take off my jacket. I hang it up in the break room and turn to go collect a supply cart like I do every morning, when I see Charlotte again. She stalks closer to me, checking over her shoulder and to the side to see if anyone is around. We're alone. As she gets closer, I can feel my hands getting sweaty. She scares me, I know what she is capable of. She stands in front of me, her heels making her eye level with myself. She slaps me.

"I could get used to this..." she hisses menacingly. She slaps me. Again. Just like yesterday, she leaves me there. But unlike yesterday, the pain hits in instantly. I cry out, but the screams only echo around the room. I whimper and trail to the toilets.

I look in the mirror. Two defined hand marks on either side of my face stare back at me. Eagerly, I reach in my bag and pull out some makeup to cover it up. Once I pull the brush to my face, the door swings open and one of the chefs walk in. She too has a hand print on her face. I offer her some makeup but she refuses, bringing out her own bag. We look at each other and I pull her into a quick hug to show her I'm there for her. I begin to apply foundation.

"What did you do?" she starts glumly, "I accidentally dropped a plate and she went absolutely mental."

"Me? I have no idea. I walked into her yesterday and she slapped me. She did it again twice a minute ago but I don't know why."

"Wow, harsh. Hey, what's your name. I don't recognise you." She asks, slightly more positive than before.

"I'm Sam Murphy, you?" I answer

"Helena Costa"

"Here, have my number. Call me if she hits you again." She passes me her phone and I type it in. I give it back to her and do the same with my phone. I wave and head out the door. Wow. Charlotte is such a bitch, slapping her employees for no worthy reason. She has no respect. I purposefully avoid her for the rest of the day and rightly so.

I'm just so scared of her now.