Trolleyman

I can hear him digging outside. The shovel buries its head into the soft earth. Hard rain strikes the handle, and lightning flashes my rage. Thunder are my screams, but they fall on deaf ears. And he continues, tearing at the ground, and he is almost finished. And then I will be ready for the grave.

The walls are closing in. The door remains locked. Windows reveal a cold world, where no one will rescue me. There is not a soul in sight but him, and I can't escape. He will bury me alive.

Why didn't I listen? Every fiber of my being screamed for me not to go to work that day. A harsh cold rattled my mind, and my body was weak. I was all set to stay home, listen to that small voice that squeaks inside the back of my head, but then my father walked into my room. He sternly reminded me that the real world did not accept laziness, and I had no choice but to go to work. And I listened, and now I'm here paying that price.

A hard tap breaks me from my daze. He dangles his fingers along the glass window, taunting me. A cat ate the canary grin dangles from his lips. His eyes are midnight. He got what he wanted, and I hate him for it. I knew all a long that it would come to this, but I thought that I would be ready, safe. But I thought wrong.

I knew what he was. We first met when I started my job. He would take a seat before me, staring my way. Casual conversations drifted in the space between us, but if he spoke to me, I would refuse to answer. I would not let him in, but he was intent on finding his way. And my mistake opened the door, and I can't take it back. And his face lingers before mine.

I want to kill him. I could take his life. Nobody would stop me, but what would become of me? How do I get past this? How do I escape him? What am I supposed to do with this monster that tore me apart?

He is waiting for me. He doesn't have a care in the world. He thinks that I'm afraid of him, but I'm more full of fury than fear. I want to tear him apart, and he grins at that thought. He knows that I can't do anything. I'm trapped, and the grave is waiting. But I won't go silently.

My fist strikes the glass window. Droplets of blood slip into darkness. Glass shards promise to cut him as he cut me. My feet crunch against the debris, and he takes one step back. And the storm rages between us.

I step outside. My eyes move from the predator to the grave. My death is waiting, but did he really kill me? What kind of life is left for me to live? I wish that I can just walk away, but I can't. And he lingers before me, grinning from his success, but I won't break apart. He may have gotten what he wanted, but I'm still here. And I won't lie down, so he can bury me.

I remember that day. I took my usual seat on the bus. The cold medicine kicked in fast. Non-drowsy it claimed, but I was gone in an instant. And he took a seat beside me, and we rocked together in silence. My eyes drifted open for a moment, sensing him, and then I was gone again. And a hard tap against the window broke me from my daze as he stood outside, grinning from ear to ear, and then I knew. I knew I was his.

And one lone passenger sat across from me. His eyes fixated on the scenery outside. He knew, but he did nothing. And neither did the bus driver, who had his own dark intentions in mind. But I remained awake until my destination and went to work like nothing had happened, but I still remember. I remember him.

And the storm rages between us. I move over to the grave. He follows. I pick up the shovel and turn his way. He knows that I can't hurt him. He waits for me to surrender, but he doesn't know me. And I break the handle over my knee.

I'm finished with this, with him. I'm tired of beating myself up. I made a mistake, and I should have listened to that small voice in the back of my head. But I made a mistake, and I won't end my life over it. But this stops now, and one day, karma will repay him in kind, telling him of the misery that he unleashed upon me. And the storm ends, shedding light over a broken cage that will no longer hold me, and I walk away, leaving behind a grave that now waits for him.