Quick update, short chapter... The "olfactory trigger" thing is not an actual quote but something I made up. I don't even know whether the expression is being used in English, but if it works for you, it works for me :) Just let me know please!
Chapter 7
If it was a shattered coffee mug that had set the ball rolling, it was the smell of aftershave that finally brought Alexandra Cabot down. Not just the smell of an aftershave, of course, but his aftershave. On her way down the stairs in front of the court building, a stranger had accidentally bumped into her. Although she was certain it wasn't him, he was wearing the same aftershave which had triggered a flood of memories she couldn't stop.
"Olfactory triggers, i.e. the smell of something connected and associated with the traumatic event, pose a particularly powerful – and oftentimes overwhelming – access to traumatic memories, thereby causing symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder such as flashbacks" - A smart little sentence Alex had once read in a booklet on trauma and PTSD, only years later understanding its full meaning and magnitude.
His body pressed against hers. His hands on her breasts, than lower – much lower. Fear blocking her ability to speak. A simple NO would have probably done it – he didn't seem to be the kind of guy to not take No for an answer. But this magic little word never came out of her mouth. So it was her own fault, right?
Alex's jaw was clenched shut, her jaw muscles so contracted she was unable to breathe. Oh god. Not again. Not now! Not here! She tried to force herself to relax, but it didn't seem to work this time. It was when Alex could feel the tears stinging in her eyes that she realized she had to get away from here – she couldn't just break down on the stairs, out in the open and for everyone to see! She was at work, for god's sake! What if one of the defense attorneys saw her like this? Or a judge? Hell, anyone for that matter! Right now, she probably looked so fragile and pathetic that even Langdon wouldn't use it against her but probably call an ambulance - which would be even worse.
So Alex did what she thought was her only option right now: Run towards the lady's room and hide. She wasn't even sure how long she'd been hiding out in there – all that mattered was that she'd done it in the first place. Hiding in the lady's room to cry – god! In her opinion, there were only two types of people that were allowed to do that: overworked and overwhelmed interns and/or newbies who were completely caught off guard by the glimpses into the darkest parts of the human psyche this job brought along, and the real victims - and it wasn't like she belonged to any of these two categories, right?
Alex was torn from her thoughts when the cleaning lady who had absentmindedly dragged her supplies cart from stall to stall knocked on Alex's toilet door. "This is last bathroom. Fifteen minutes, then I lock building. You go now, no?"
Alex forcibly pulled herself together, opened the door, nodded politely and sneaked outside. She immediately shuddered when the cold night air hit her tights-covered legs. Holy! At least it was dark already so no one would notice the smudgy traces of mascara running down her cheeks... She could just run and nobody would even care. The question was: Where to?
Sooo.. where (or rather: whom...!) should I send Alex to?