Wish it was fiction

Should I change? The red playsuit was perfect for the weather today. But red.. it’s such a noticeable color. I have ten minutes before I have to leave the house. The train ride is fifty minutes, so I have enough time to do my make-up on the train. The only thing I need to do is make a fucking decision about the outfit. My parents told me it looked good and I know. I feel good as well, but I don’t want to put myself in an uncomfortable situation, people looking too long or shouting things. While I was changing, I wished I wasn’t such an overthinker.

The tram arrived at the train station. I scrolled through my spotify playlist while walking towards the station. A man and two women were yelling in front of the entrance. The only thing I heard were swearwords like ‘whore’ – pff classic. The women stood at the top of a few steps, while the man was standing on the sidewalk. I didn’t want anything to do with this, so I looked down and started making a big arc around the man. Then the man’s shoes came closer and they walked straight at me. It happened very fast. I felt his hand against my throat and then the sidewalk slammed into my knees, my hips, my arm and my hand. I came very close to kissing the ground. There wasn’t enough air but I stood up, my legs were shaking and I had to get it together before I could take a step. The women were still yelling things, other people on the station stood there and looked. I walked towards the station. ‘He just hates women.’ I heard. ‘Are you okay?’ I think I nodded. Keep on walking. Another train had just arrived because a stream of people walked past me. Go to track 3. My hand grabbed my ticket to check in. Sit down for a second. Don’t cry. I still had the feeling there wasn’t enough air. Send your parents a message. Make sure you will not ignore what happened and act like nothing has happened.

I breathed my way through the panic. I got on my train and had a great lunch with my friend. Later, I went to different friends, back to the same station. I had to do it because I am a big girl. This can’t become a trauma. These friends asked me about the wounds on my hands. I explained what happened. They were quite disturbed and told me I should go to the police. This was the first moment I even thought about the police. The man was angry. It can happen. Sometimes you just have a bad day and we have all different ways of coping. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. I was just the wrong sex.