A man followed me today.

All the way from the hospital to the number six bus I didn't notice him til I was staring out the window trying to doze, lifting my eyes to see where I was along the journey I noticed him just staring at me, leering in the windows reflection. Even when I stared back he continued. I sat up straighter and kept alert for the rest of the journey.

Mister Ramone and his crew of misfits would be on a travel day today so I went to bed early, sleeping soundly, so soundly I even slept through the alarm.

I woke at ten, hastily got out of bed dragging a comb through my hair, no time for tea or toast. I had to, again, run full pelt to the stop repeating my daily journey to give company to Jim, reading him the daily funnies, the latest news and editorial in the newspaper.

I helped him play solitaire today before his exercises, well I played- he grunted a bit. He is quite cantankerous and short with myself, and the nurses, but I guess he is feeling trapped in his own body the poor thing.

As I helped the nurse move Jim's arms and legs for therapy it made him grizzle grumpily and spit cuss words at us. It was so unlike the sweet man I knew. As I continued on with the exercises I cried silently and wiped my eyes so as to hide the moisture from Jim, my lashes stuck to my face at times but I tried very hard to keep a smile bright throughout it all.

Once we were finally done he would usually settle and when I make move to leave he tries very hard to give me a one arm hug sorry at the end of the day's visit.

Walking in the cool evening air I noticed a few buds appearing on the hedges close to the footpath, running my fingers over the smooth soft peach like surface I smiled willing winter to leave for the year. Up ahead I noticed the bus almost atop the stop AGAIN. I dashed for the 22 as quickly as I could.

He is here on the bus again, definitely watching me.

I stare back angrily but he just smiles and winks, disgustingly. He's got to be much older, almost forty like ma and he looks disheveled like he hasn't had a good bath for months.

As I walk away from the number 6, I glance back over my shoulder. I'm the only one who alights here at my stop so seeing movement has me turn to watch who is the other person. 

Him.

He makes his move as the bus turns the corner and I run as his fingers curl around my shoulder to stop me, they touch my coat but not enough to hold me still.

The lane is narrow and backs onto an industrial area no houses are here til I reach the other end, around 100 metres. I try to run faster, tearing through the silent almost blackened street as he strides behind as if he has all the time in the world. I turn looking over my shoulder, a cobblestone juts up from the road, my foot catches, I'm falling. Going down hard on my hands and knees they scrap against the cobblestone.

Panting, gasping, trying to rise quickly,  the hulk of a man is upon me in moments.

Heaviness and stench surrounding and overbearing me.

I scream, he slaps my face making my neck whip my head so hard to the left. Fingers fumble on my purple bag opening the clasp, he takes the purse shoving it low into his back pocket as I struggle to crawl away.
Perhaps that's all, perhaps I am a lucky.

But he has me in his dirty arms, he strokes me my cheek and I scream til he clamps a smelly hand hard over my nose and mouth. Hands feel me, my hair, slivering over my face, groping, traveling over my breasts, pinching, touching, invading.... my stomach, lower... my breathe catches as the direction he travels becomes crystal clear. He grins like a mad man in the low light.

I kick and lash out but it's no good his fingers find me and I have no hope of escape, he shoves and pinches and shoves and slaps my face to shut my pleas. He shoves more and more, I buck to escape, kick, beg. He retracks his fingers and pointedly licks them. My tears fall, I cower as he releases his hold.

Standing, he kicks me in my backside and walks off into the night, whistling happily.

I, on the other hand, stand shakily like a newborn fawn, then find my feet.... and run.

Run to Jims home..

To emptiness.

To silence.

To no one.