Today had begun as a regular day, with the usual tiredness and loneliness of late. As soon as I was ready, I got into the subway. I remember having to wait more than just a few minutes; public transport here is nothing but a nightmare. The crowd behind me was getting bigger, increasing my level of discomfort. Finally, the metro showed up at the end of the railways.
As the doors opened, most people started pushing forward like the animals they are, and I ended up next to the closest subway pole. In such a terrible transportation physical contact can't be avoided much. Despite that, a girl tends to know if it isn't an accident. When the subway initiated movement, the hand of the guy that was standing near the same pole touched my breast. I thought it was unintended.
Then, the hand came way too close again and made contact. There was no way it was an accident, no reason explainable by physics. I stared at him, upset, trying to figure that out. Maybe it was indeed a miscalculation, right? But I kept wondering, why and how were his fingers so close? Just in case, I pulled my bag full of books and placed it on the front of my upper body.
Such were my thoughts (as if I didn't have enough to worry about) when I saw it. His other hand, the one carrying a bag, had the thumb deliberately extended. Crawling in the air, like the most disgusting maggot, trying to reach the inner side of the thighs of the girl next to me. She quickly moved away. I could see the doubt in her eyes, the same I had a few minutes ago.
I instantaneously felt sick. What the fuck was wrong with this guy? I stared at him dead in the eye until he looked away. I wanted to stamp my fist on his face so hard, break his nose, leave him a scar for life as so many men do with some women. How soon until he became a rapist?
He seemed normal, but when his eyes met mine, I saw the hiding monster.
Characters and plot are entirely fictional.
Are they?