Do you enjoy long rides home? Lots of people do, especially when they're the "passenger princess." It's one of the few waking moments of life where you're not expected to do anything at all. You just sit back, close your eyes, listen to music, daydream, think. While your daily train commutes were far from luxurious, you could often disassociate from the crowds and ongoing chaos of the world around you. Float away. Enter the 4D. Become nothing. But on this night, you were far from feeling like a "princess" to any degree. There was a tightness rubbing itself against you, the scent of alcohol, the slurred whisper of an old man's voice against your ear, faint moans drowned out by the hum of the carriage's chatter.

You were still processing the passive aggressive conversation with Kitty earlier when it happened. After stepping on the train and squeezing into the unending wall of miserable office workers, students and drunkards, you felt something strange behind you. A hand, perhaps? Or... something so so much worse pressing up against you. Sensing the danger you were in, you tried your best to shuffle away, threading yourself between others in the hopes of escaping the perpetrator but there was simply not enough room to move. Instead you were met with the scowls and disapproving tuts of those around you, viewing you desperate attempts to flee as rude, entitled pushiness.

The man behind you chuckled quietly to himself, a hideous pink hue spread across his face as his hands drifted up and down the back of your body. An icy shiver ran down your spine as you felt the man's lips draw closer to you. His rotten breath grazed the hairs on your neck and violated the shell of your ear. You clutched yourself, arms tightening around your torso as though doing so hard enough could remove you from this existence. The beginnings of a well-justified panic attack crept up your throat, the laboured efforts of your lungs causing you to feel light-headed. You scanned around the carriage with pleading eyes, hoping that someone - anyone - would rescue from this dirty man.

Your watering eyes met with several others, but no one stepped forward, no one spoke up, no one cared? The carriage was far too bloated for anyone to notice the creep groping himself against you. His filthy hands were concealed by the mass of bodies crushing against one another. You could scream. Ask for help. Tell someone. That's what you were supposed to do. So... why couldn't you? Why?

Along the upper body of the train walls was a bright pink "Stop Sexual Harassment" sign accompanied with the illustration of a large eye. It was supposed to indicate surveillance and safety, encouraging those in your position to report inappropriate behaviour and seek help. But instead, you felt like you were being taunted. The very eyes that were supposed to watch out for you were the same ones that stared soullessly at your plight. Watching, watching, watching, enjoying. The train doors opened and more bodies swarmed into the carriage.

Crushing, crushing, tightening, squeezing, enjoying. The pervert's body was thrusted further against you, so close it felt like the two of you were becoming one. And that disgusted you more than anything. Doors opening. More people. Doors closing. You had to get off. You had to get off right now. It didn't matter if it was the wrong stop. It was too much. Doors opening. Doors closing. Doors opening. Doors closing.

"I can't..." you panted. Your frail voice was overwhelmed by the churn and buzz of the metallic beast as it proceeded on its journey down the tracks. The chatter grew louder. Several conversations all happening in one place. You could feel the man's heartbeat against your back. Or was it your own? Or someone else's? Doors opening. "I can't, I can't, I can't..."

Doors closing. You couldn't breathe. No, seriously. You couldn't breathe. Your hands wrapped around your throat, face turning pale. Why did this... feel so... familiar? Doors opening. This tightness in your throat, the suffocating notion of having no where to run, the lack of space. Run. Get out of here. You forced yourself forward, surging toward the carriage door. Doors closing.

Too late. Your stomach dropped as you were wedged back into the sea of bodies, once again becoming part of the swaying mass. The scent of sweat, cigarettes, food, and alcohol clung to your nostrils, and a sweltering heat radiated from person to person, warming the carriage up like a furnace. You needed to throw up. You needed to buckle to the ground, cry. But you couldn't bend your legs even if you wanted to. The tightness was so intense, you weren't even sure if your feet were touching the ground anymore.

There was a dispute further up in the carriage. Two delinquent teens cussing at one another. School drama. A misunderstanding, perhaps. Tensions grew and the more aggressive teenage boy suddenly shoved the other. This, in turn, caused a mass domino effect in the centre part of the carriage. Everyone jostled against each other, the train's stuttering movements only serving to amplify the chaos. You were pushed back into the drunk pervert. A vile, toothy grin appeared on his face. His hands returned to caressing you, his nose intrusively sniffing the back of your hair.

Your phone buzzed.

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Kitty You okay? ( ˘•ω•˘ )

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Despite your awkward conversation with Kitty prior to this incident, you couldn't help but feel comforted by the presence of his message. You wanted to him to reach out to you, to pull you into the screen, away from all this reality. Even if it was a stupid and childish thought, it was all you wanted in that moment. An escape.

Doors opening!

In that moment, something grabbed your hand. Tight. The pervert. You squealed, ripping your arm away and ramming your way toward the exit. Doors clos- Out. You were out. Air filled your lungs. Not fresh air. But air all the same. You could breathe. You could move. You had autonomy. You ran.