Getting Back At Him

I was in a microbus on my way home.
I was sitting in the first row.
Later, a man came and sat next to me.
The entire way it felt like a rod was poking me in the back of my thighs.

It was strange, but I figured it couldn’t be the man sitting next to me.
There was no way his hands could reach my thighs.
And it didn’t feel like a hand.
No, it felt more like a metal rod.

I lifted my leg from the seat a little.
I felt nothing.
I figured it must be a metal rod then, and I forgot about it.
Until the bus stopped in a well-lit area.
I glanced over at the hands of the person next to me.
His hand was stretched out underneath my leg.

At that moment, I broke down.
I suddenly found myself grabbing him, beating him up, and shouting,
“You’re nasty and human garbage.
All this time I thought it was a metal rod.
You animal, how could you?” I shouted.

I kept shouting so hard.
I never shouted like that before.
I waited for anyone to take my side or say anything.
All he said was,
“May God punish you for falsely accusing me” and left.

Even when he said that, they said nothing.
I broke down.
“Here’s your money. Drop me off here,” I yelled to the driver.
“Just calm down, and we’ll drop you off wherever you want,”
Was all he was able to say.

I was done,
I had started crying
I shouted at him and asked him to pull over.
I didn’t get my revenge.
I wanted to find him and break his arm.
When I got off, he had disappeared,
I cried on my way back home.

I didn’t tell anyone at home about what happened.
Because if I told them,
They’d momentarily sympathize with me before saying,
“It’s your fault. Why did you sit next to him?
Aren’t you going to stop making trouble?”
And “It’s done; there is no more going out.”

It’s hard to describe how I feel right now.

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