MicroHorror

Fucking pervert. Look at him, sitting there again. Staring out the window. Watching the kiddies.

Every morning, same time, same goddamn seat. Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I got on before him and sat in his precious spot. Actually, I wonder a lot worse than that but it would be a start, right?

I bet his crusty old bottom lip would quiver and he’d stutter like a retard. “P-p-please… that’s my seat.”

Just thinking about it makes me want to smack him upside, put my fist through his nasty-ass face.

Christ. I can barely look at him, but if I don’t, whose gonna keep watch, huh?

Damn… St Mary’s. Never changes. Little girls chasing each other, oblivious, stupid parents leaving their kids at the gate in the care of what, a fat slug trying to pass for a lollypop lady? I dunno why they gotta put a train station right out front of a primary school. Just asking for trouble.

This is his favorite part. So good it makes him cry. But not good enough I suppose ’cause all he can do is watch, and if I know anything at all, I know that watching ain’t enough for these pricks. Sooner or later…

Aaawww shit. Look at him. Nose up against the glass like a kid in a candy store. Man, I give myself the chills thinking that way. Bile in my throat.

This ain’t right; somebody oughta take out the trash.

Empty seat today. Ain’t no one wanna touch it. Someone’s gotta be a man. It’d be like an exorcism.

“Demon be gone!” I smile inwardly. He’s gone, all right. I made damn sure of that.

“Get your ass out of that seat.”

I look up. “What the–”

“I said get up!” The man clenches my shirt in a massive fist and pulls me forward, tears of anger welling in his eyes. Another man puts an arm on his and he releases the grip, finally letting his arm drop to his side. I edge out of the seat confused.

“It’s all right, love, you weren’t to know.” The old woman pulls me closer. “That’s Randall’s seat.” My skin prickles and I feel the beginnings of a sweat under my collar.

“Saddest thing, beaten to death last night, right after the evening train. God knows who’d do such a thing after what he’s been through.”

“Been through…”

“Lost his little girl, abducted, right off the street and in front of her own school, too”.

“St Mary’s,” I whisper.

“That’s right, never gave up hope though, always sat in that there seat, searching all those wee faces. Such a tragedy.” She shakes her head softly.

“I hope they catch that bastard soon, if you’ll pardon my language. Can’t have trash like that on the street when there’s kiddies around.”