CAT

THE WATCHER

The grinding of the train across the tracks echoed through the cars as it swayed side to side, every passenger had their heads down, distracted by their own personal entertainment except for two. A young woman, not older than 20, seeked out every detail from each rider. She loved to observe and people watch instead of being distracted by a small screen. She enjoyed imagining the lives of those around her: where they were going, who they aspire to be, or who they were once before. 

An old woman across from where she sat was knitting something pink. She had long white hair tied into two braids. A sign of being laid back and somewhat active possibly. She had a small smile on her wrinkled face as if she was deep in a pleasant thought. What was she knitting? A scarf perhaps. No, too small to be a scarf. Maybe socks for a new baby. Yes, a newborn baby. The woman was now a grandmother. Was she going back home or going to the end of the line to get off at Howard like the young woman herself to visit her new grandchild? The 20 year old moved her attention to the next passenger.

 A man. He wore a nice black suit with scuffed expensive shoes. He must pace a lot in his office, perhaps because they weren’t dirty as if he were to walk outside a lot yet, clearly even though they seemed new they had a lot of usage. He had jet black hair, possibly dyed to cover up the grey hairs from the stressors of working too much. He was scolding someone over the phone and was looking at his paper while explaining about the numbers. Always the generic “numbers.”

    “Listen Carl, I don’t care how late it is, if you did this correctly the first time then the numbers wouldn’t have been so off and then you could have gone home earlier!” the businessman snapped and spat flew across the train car. He violently slammed a finger against his phone to hang up and then scrambled through his papers to shove them in his briefcase before he shuffled off to the door to get off. 

    She turned her attention to the woman directly across from her. A middle aged woman with fiery red hair that could clearly not be tamed. Though her kids could not be tamed either. Her two children wailed about, not staying still in the seats they obtained. She fought to gain some control and yanked them back into their seats. The little girl, almost an identical copy to her mother, cried out in pain which caused her younger brother to cry out too. The mother pinched her temple and possibly thought up a prayer and tried again with the two. Single mother? Practically. Seems she had just picked them up from some type of afterschool care since it was too late for school to just be let out, and her attire was too nice to be spending the day with them. A working mom with either a very unsupportive partner who couldn’t have helped pick up their kids, or no partner at all. 

    Finally before the 20 year old could turn her attention to the next person she would observe, she noticed she was being observed herself. She lifted her gaze to the other side of the train car which was the side that was by the train car’s connecting doors. There was a tall skinny man in casual clothing, standing against one of the poles in the car, and his eyes were on her. Not just on her but touching her. They touched her clothing and moved it around to get a better look at her bare skin. 

    She pulled her jacket from the sides to cover her exposed upper chest region and coiled back into her seat and the wall in hopes to have his gaze be blocked by the drunk man beside her. It was unsuccessful. He could still see her and his eyes picked at her. She tried to study him but felt her heart began to beat faster and a nauseating feeling rushed over her. He had a grin on his face and he shook the dirty brown hair out his eyes so he could keep his gaze on her. 

    In hopes to shield herself once more she placed her bag on her lap to hide the holes from her jeans that his eyes had already dissected one too many times. It was no use. His eyes were burning through her clothing as if he could see everything that she did not give him permission to see. His eyes finally met hers and that's when she was totally alone. He knew how he was making her feel; uncomfortable in her own skin. He liked making her feel like that and she could tell because the disgust on her face only egged him on more. 

    His eyes were now not the only thing moving. He slowly stalked across the car, weaving through the hypnotized passengers. Trying to get closer to her. She panicked and turned around to the riders around her to see if they had noticed but they were all distracted. The drunk man beside her was texting his ex. The old woman was knitting her socks. The red headed mother was almost strangling her kids. So she was alone in a train car full of people. All stuck to the bright, iridescent light from their phones or some other sort of distraction. 

    She felt her heart drop farther and farther, deeper and deeper into her stomach every foot he got closer to her. She’s felt this way before. So helpless, so alone, and no longer the owner of her own body. She avoided his gaze and kept it the floor of the train in hopes that he would no longer find interest. Maybe he was just moving to get off at the other door? Since the one closest to him was so crowded he moved to the other one? Yet he did not get off when the doors finally opened. The amount of people flooding out of the train car gave him more space to move closer to her till he was standing right in front of her. She refused to look up as the train filled up again with more distracted by standers. 

    She instead focused on the floor, or the old lady who continued to knit, or listened to the cries and pleads of both mother and children. Focusing on everything else except the tall slender man infront of her that made her hate feeling so weak and helpless. She tried to focus on where she was going. Just going home. Home. She let her mind fill up with distractions. She planned to get off at Howard and then transfer to the purple line. Would he follow her off? Even though it was late Howard would still be busy so she was most likely safe. Yet if he followed her onto the purple line, would he get off at Central just like she would? There would be no one there. She debated on running, but her boots would weigh her down. 

    She was pulled out of her thoughts when the train stopped and the drunk man next to her got up to get off. Just her luck. The slender creep slowly molded into the newly free seat but kept his eyes on her. She didn’t need to look at him to know where his eyes were touching her. She could feel the burning sensation as they touched her legs, then up her torso to stop right near her breasts. She knew he hesitated there before burning up her neck. 

    She shook her hair over so he no longer had a clear gaze as parts of her chest and her neck. Yet the old lady still continued to knit, the woman still corralled her children, and the new passengers that blocked her from getting up from her seat and moving away from him, all had their eyes down. No one saw her, and no one saw him. No one saw as he raised his hand, shifted it over to her, and shakily groped her exposed knee. She could feel the clammy sweat from his skin spread onto hers. She froze, internally screaming for help, but no one noticed her, except for him, of course.