warning: graphic description of sexual assault ahead
𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐘𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐀, 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐗𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐘'𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄. Her legs were curled up and Harvey could see her body trembling from his desk. The couple could feel Donna's watchful eye on them as they sat in silence, especially since Harvey had demanded that she didn't listen in on this conversation. Harvey didn't know where to start, and it was clear that Marilyn was at a loss, so he decided to simply be patient, noting that he'd made the mistake of being anything but during their last encounter. And judging by his behaviour that morning, his impatience had cost him plenty.
Marilyn didn't know how to go about it, not even sure if she could talk. She'd waited for someone that she could come to for so long, and whilst Harvey had always been that person, the fear inside of her was undeniable. Because she was here, this was really happening. Everything that she'd carried for as long as she had was going to come out, and she couldn't control how Harvey reacted. The burden that had only been hers was about to be shared, and she didn't know how to feel. Because she couldn't anticipate how Harvey would feel, either. This entire situation was out of her control.
Harvey sighed, deciding that it was best for him to begin. This wasn't going to be easy for Marilyn and it was bad enough that he hadn't been there to protect her from it, never mind the fact that he'd attempted to force it out of her the night before. Whilst this wasn't really his doing, he couldn't help but feel like it was, and that he was eternally indebted to Marilyn, since she'd gone through something that he could never understand. He hadn't been there and that had killed him. Now, he had to do everything he could to help her through it; not taking complete control but ensuring that she stayed true to herself, made wise choices, and got out of the other side.
"Your mom's in my apartment," he began, his eyes trained on her. He didn't know whether this was one of those situations where he could offer her a smile, but he knew that his eyes were pitiful. Marilyn absolutely despised pity, but Harvey couldn't help himself. There was a part of him that could be angry, but instead he was deeply hurt. He couldn't imagine what it was that she'd been through, and the unimaginable was awful enough, never mind having to carry such a significant burden for years. A burden that's constantly chipped and chipped away at her. A burden that he could not repair.
Marilyn's eyes widened and she shot Harvey a look of shock. She knew that it was something she should've seen coming, especially given the phone call that she had with her mother the day prior, but she just hadn't expected Radha Kaur to have gotten over her fear of flying, for her sake. Then there was the fact that her mother had gone straight to Harvey's apartment, rather than her own. Again, something she should have anticipated, but didn't. Plus, Harvey wasn't her knight in shining armour – only she could make this situation better for herself. Then again, her mother didn't even know what was going on, just that her daughter was a shadow of who she used to be.
"My God, I'm so sorry," Marilyn apologised.
Harvey's eyes softened. This was never what he'd wanted. He was no good at this, no good at treading carefully around vulnerability, and saying the right things. He was the stone-cold lawyer that was ruthless and successful. Yet, with Marilyn, everything was so different. He didn't know what to do around her, but was definitely sure of who he was, and who he wanted to be. He knew what he wanted for her, and that there was no one else in the world who was going to give it to her. And, as for him, it had only ever been Marilyn. Sure, he'd entertained the idea of the bachelor life, but every night he took a stranger home, he knew that Marilyn had his heart. And that he owed her everything.
"Don't be, Lynn."
Marilyn sighed at Harvey's hospitality. She didn't deserve this man. She never thought that she had. From the minute Harvey Specter had walked into her life, he was out of her league. Older than her, actually in a full-time job, and oozing confidence that was backed up with intelligence and hard work. He was perfect, everything she'd ever wanted, and he whisked her away from the troubles of being a student, her immense homesickness and the racially discriminatory industry she was so desperate to be a part of. He'd made her life better from the minute he'd become a part of it. And now, she risked everything by revealing the truth.
But, this had to happen. She'd gotten this far and there was absolutely no going back. She couldn't do that to Harvey, to Ophelia, to herself. She deserved this liberation. She deserved to tell her story. She deserved to be in control of her laugh. She knew what she needed to do, even if no words would explain the catastrophic nature of Jonathan Riley-Smith – there would never be enough words to explain how vile that man was. So, Marilyn decided to do the next best thing. She searched her handbag for the memory stick before tossing it to Harvey, which he caught, despite the lack of warning.
"Watch this," she insisted quietly, eyes meeting his. "Watch it and don't say a word. I'll explain after."
Harvey swallowed the lump in his throat, his insides twisting as he realised what this was likely to be. He cursed himself for not being available to protect her, he was angry that he'd abandoned her when she arguably needed him the most. And now he knew what was going to happen, he knew what had happened, and that terrified him. Because this wasn't even his burden, it was beyond his control. Every emotion running through Marilyn was justified, every decision she'd made rational because only she was allowed to decide that. And that scared him beyond anything else in the entire world. But, he knew that what Marilyn was going through was so much worse, and so he kept his composure.
He forced himself to still his shaking hands and inserted the USB into his laptop. As soon as the video popped up on his screen, he looked to Marilyn for permission. Her heart swelled and she wanted to smile at his gentlemanly nature, but she simply gave him a solemn nod, fully aware that his perception of her could now change in a heartbeat. Who was to say that he wouldn't judge her for what she'd done? How she'd taken advantage like a tyrant? She felt the bile rising up her throat, just at the thought of how malicious she'd been. God, she really wasn't human at all. She was disgusted with herself.
And then the video played. Marilyn was in Jonathan's office late at night in October of 2003, her white dress inexcusably short as she tried to talk with Jonathan. Harvey recognised that she was on prime-time television the next year and his stomach plummeted, knowing that this was the real reason as to why she'd gotten where she was. He was judging her at all, but the entire situation made him feel disappointed, knowing that she had so much talent and didn't need to do this to get ahead. Or maybe she had to, since she became the first Indian-American prime-time news anchor but that thought made him sick. However, what he hated the most was knowing that he wasn't there to protect her from situations like these. At the end of the day, he left her. She may have given him the green light, but he left the city. She just didn't follow.
The entire thing was muted, but Harvey could detect Marilyn trying to pitch herself as a news anchor, her eyebrows knitted as she talked passionately with her hands. It was clear that whatever she was saying was going in one of Jonathan's ears and right out of the other, as he waved his hand dismissively. He wondered how she'd thought that he was truly interested in making things happen for her, whether she actually understood his true intentions in the moment. Or if she was simply a dreamer that had been blindsided and persuaded into a life of trauma that she didn't want. She had so much capability, Harvey kind of thought that she'd let that go to waste.
Harvey's breath hitched once Marilyn got up from her seat and hesitantly trotted over to him in her nude heels, her smile forced. Jonathan commanded for her to twirl as he sat back in his chair, a sick smile on his face. Harvey wanted nothing more to march on over to DBC and beat the shit out of the animal, but after casting a glance towards Marilyn, any rage that he had ceased. It was clear to see that the guilt was crippling her, from when she simply chucked him the USB with a look of distaste to how studied Harvey as he watched the recording. He'd never wanted her to feel bad, as much as he thought she could have done so much better, this wasn't her doing. She was young, fresh on the scene, and enthusiastic. And who could blame her?
Marilyn did so slowly, after cautiously flattening her dress in an attempt to cover up. She was uncomfortable. Harvey wanted to throw up. She looked like a fucking Barbie doll; her smile awfully plastic. She propped her hair, still in the signature curls that Harvey had fallen in love with. She looked to full of life, despite the situation. Everything had just gradually chipped away at her ever since, and Harvey didn't know how he was supposed to fix it. She looked so tired and done in, and that broke his heart. This whole thing broke his heart – he'd always imagined meeting Marilyn again on a much happier note.
And then Jonathan beckoned her closer, to sit on his lap. It took a few moments, and a couple of words, but Marilyn did eventually obey and awkwardly sat down, her feet not fully flat on the ground so that she could increase the distance between her and Jonathan. Without any warning, disappointment seeped through Harvey and it was undeniable. The Marilyn he knew was so much better than this, so much more than this. It had only taken a couple of years, and probably still a lot of work, for some corrupt organisation with a sexual predator at the top to destroy her self-worth, fracture her talent and deny her ability. That in itself was devastating, never mind the fact that Marilyn had practically allowed for this to happen.
One look at her, though, and Harvey was full of regret, angry at himself for thinking what he had. It was clear as day that Marilyn was killing herself over this, that she'd been slowly shattering ever since. She couldn't even look at him, her gaze not leaving the floor, but Harvey could still make out that her face was crestfallen, that she was utterly defeated. She looked like a ghost of who she had been, the light in her eyes drastically fading as she tried everything to justify what she'd done. She was young and hungry, fresh enough to be naïve and unsuspecting and innocent enough to want to make a good impression. There was always going to be a question of whether she'd fucked up in that moment, when she'd sat on his lap, or whether she'd given herself the ticket that she needed to get the recognition that she deserved.
Harvey was struggling to watch as Jonathan fondled with her body, enjoying her thighs like they were his territory. The whole ordeal was enough for him to shut the laptop, and Harvey could only hope that it would stop. Body completely frozen, Marilyn still wore her plastic smile and Harvey could tell that she was trying to block out the whole ordeal – her eyes weren't as vibrant. And her hands were shaking, despite her stiff arms, and he could just tell that she was curling her feet within her heels. Jonathan had the most disgusting smile on his face, as if he'd just won a race and was claiming his prize. His relaxed demeanour and smug expression made it apparent that he thought he deserved this, almost like the exploitation of young girls came with the job title.
However, after a few painful minutes of Marilyn's obvious discomfort and Jonathan's sickly pleasure, she was sliding off of his lap, talking to him softly as he placed a palm on her face. And with that, she grabbed her purse and walked out of there as quickly as she could, unaware as to how Jonathan stared at her body as she left. The empty vodka bottle on his desk made it clear that the only reason he'd let her go, besides his insanity, was that he was drunk out of his sockets. But that was no excuse for behaving the way that he had done. He could drown himself in poison as much as he desired, but he had no right to take Marilyn down with her.
Unfortunately, Harvey was thanking his lucky stars that the encounter hadn't gone any further. Whilst Marilyn had clearly been sexually assaulted, he knew that her female colleagues had been raped and he couldn't describe the relief that flooded him at the thought that he hadn't stripped her dignity fully, which was sick in itself, he knew. He had no words to describe what he'd just seen and was still trying to put the pieces together on what this had to do with her success. Although, she had the footage, which was likely to only mean one thing. That was why she'd been so angry at herself – this burden was more than just her story. It was every other woman's tragedy, too.
"He promised he'd never do it again," Marilyn muttered, a sob in her throat. Harvey sat back in his chair the minute he realised that Marilyn had been the first. The entire thing made sense now. Jonathan had pushed his luck when the most beautiful woman in the world had entered his office, her eyes hungry for a prime-time television slot. And so, he tried to take advantage of it, downing a bottle of vodka for some courage, but then became so unaware of what he was doing that Marilyn was able to use his drunkenness to her advantage and get out of there before the situation got any worse. Before his hands touched anywhere else.
"I made it clear when I told him that I had the tape, that he was never allowed to do it again. The only reason I took that job was because I thought I had the security of every woman's safety in that building, you have to believe me!" She was crying now, memories flooding back to her. Harvey watched with pity as she wiped away her tears, realising that Marilyn really had relied on the shame of a sexual predator as the basis of her job, as the foundation of female safety within the DBC building. She'd thought that her pain had resulted in a guarantee for women like Ophelia, and knowing that the only thing she'd done was encourage the tyrant into thinking that he could get away with it was killing her majorly. She felt like the entire thing was her fault.
Harvey's mind raced with possibilities to get the best for Marilyn and for the network, as a whole; ways that would see Jonathan Riley-Smith rot in hell for the remainder of his lifetime; ways that would promise a future with Marilyn in a house upstate and a son called Theodore and everything Harvey had ever wanted. "We need to figure out our next move," Harvey announced softly, knowing that the last thing Marilyn wanted was for him to dwell on what he'd just seen. Plus, he needed to process it for himself, knowing that she'd gone into this blind because he hadn't been there, and gone home to an empty apartment rather than having his shoulder to cry on.
Marilyn stared at him, completely bewildered. "What?" she whispered, already gathering her things.
"This is the first time that you need me, Lynn," he recalled softly, knowing that throughout their relationship she'd supported him massively, helping him get over his mother's infidelity and allowing him to love again. "Let me make the most of that."
Marilyn, however, was done. This was one step that she couldn't take. Her mind wasn't ready for action so soon. She knew that it needed to be done, but she couldn't bring herself to even take the USB from Harvey right now. She hated herself for what she'd done, the last thing she wanted was to spend hours thinking of a solution before heading into work the next morning. God, she didn't even know how she was going to face Jonathan tomorrow, how she would. There was no question about her job, knowing that her departure during the investigation was going to be the most suspicious thing within the city. But, she didn't want to think anymore. She was tired.
"Thank you for taking care of my mom," she said with a scratchy throat, standing up and not even bringing herself to look at him. "I'll call her right now, and she'll be out of your apartment by the time you get back, okay? Okay."
Harvey knew that there was no use in protesting as she headed for the door. He knew what pushing her too far had done, and that neither of them could afford to go through that again. Sighing, he clutched onto the USB, ignoring the temptation to burn it.
He needed to fix this. He needed to fix her.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
hello and thank you for checking out this next chapter of 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐦𝐛!! i've literally realised that this book has a lot of potential, so i don't think i'll be ending it as early as planned.
this chapter... whew! it was such an intense writing process, so i hope you guys are all okay, having read it. i'm always available for a chat so feel free to PM me. also, i've never dealt with a sexual assault situation myself so let me know how well it was depicted. i did struggle to go into detail, but i always knew that marilyn was never scarred by her own tragedy but the tragedy of others.
speaking of, i hope the entire situation makes sense now! whilst marilyn definitely was assaulted, she doesn't feel ashamed at the fact that she was assaulted, but the fact that she was the first. more detail on her knowledge of the stories of ophelia and other women will come to light in later chapters, but i hope this gave you a taste of what's been going through her mind.
another 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐦𝐛 cover change as well! definitely enjoying this more simplistic approach!!
thank you for reading, hope you're all safe and well ♡