Next Time, Just Drive.

I’d like to begin this story by advising anyone listening, especially other women, to not be afraid to go absolutely batshit insane if you feel threatened by someone. Scream, make a scene if others are around, try to out-crazy whoever is intimidating you. Do not be compliant. This is a lesson I took away from this encounter and many frequent albeit less severe ones throughout the year and a half that I worked in a certain large city in California.

I live in a smaller town about an hour away from the city, which prompted many of my friends to question my sanity at the prospect of commuting two hours or more round trip every work day for an entry-level job. At twenty-one years old at the time of this story, there was hardly a shortage of jobs closer to home. I was never bothered by it, however. The pay was good, and it was for a cause that is very important to me. There was a public transit system that conveniently went from a station a few miles from my house to one about a block away from my work, which I happily took over driving through dense, hostile traffic and the nightmare known as parking a car in the city. Additionally, the rides provided a lovely opportunity to catch up on reading and discover new music.

So, on a night like any other, I was on my way home via the transit system. I had selected the least stained corner seat I could find in an otherwise nearly empty train car, and took out my book and a glass bottle of Coke to prepare for some well-earned relaxation. I stared off into space for some time before a man walked into the train car. I remember that he was wearing a green denim jacket and baggy tan cargo shorts. He also sported steel toe work boots that vibrated the hollow floor of the train as he walked. His hair was spiked in a peculiar way; it didn’t so much look like he had gelled it as much as it seemed he had styled it by standing in a wind tunnel. Overall, he looked a little scraggly but far from homeless or too off-putting.

After surveying the numerous empty seats available, he came over to where I was sitting and asked if he could sit next to me. I had only been working at that job for a month or so, and being the naively trusting girl from an upper-middle class town that I was, I had not developed my street smarts yet by a wide margin. Like an idiot, I said yes. He sat down beside me, and I returned to my book. I could feel his eyes on me, but I pretended not to notice.

“What are you reading?” he asked, craning his neck to look down at the pages.

I briefly described the book to him before pointedly clearing my throat and returning to the story. In the periphery of my vision, I saw him smile.

“You’re very beautiful, you know.”

This set me a bit on edge, but it was not the first time a stranger had flirted with me during commute. Some people just can’t grasp the fact that women don’t go on public transit just so random guys can hit on them.

I rolled my eyes internally and gave him a generic thank you. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m not really up for talking, I’m really wrapped up in this book.”

What the man said next chilled me to my core.

“Why don’t you come home with me so I can wrap you up in something else?”

Only then did I realize how dire my situation was. The train car was still barely had anyone else in it and I had stupidly picked a seat on the innermost column, making it impossible to get out of the row without either sliding past the creep or vaulting over the seat in front of me. I didn’t want to make a scene for fear of aggravating him. I had played myself. I glanced over at the man and noticed for the first time that his eyes were huge. Massive. Bloodshot to hell. They pierced me intently, and his stare alone violated me to my bones.

Despite my seating predicament, this should have been the time where I got off on the next station, stayed in a crowded area and waited for the next train home. Unfortunately, I didn’t think of this at the time. Instead, I tried to keep my cool and played it off casually. “Sorry, but this shift wore me out. I think I’m just gonna go home and get to sleep.”

The surprises never ended with this charmer as he produced a burnt phial full of white powder from his sleeve. Crystal meth. I’d never seen it in real life before, but I knew it at a glance.

“This will wake you right up,” he claimed, shaking it lightly. “Now, do you want to come home with me and make some money?” I felt my face almost seize up in shock, but I stopped myself. I wouldn’t allow him the satisfaction of having rattled me. I calmly and politely declined, which he returned by going at great lengths to describe what he wanted to do to me. Again, I should have gotten off of the train, but I was an innocent little cinnamon roll who had only ever heard stories about this sort of thing happening. I had no idea what to do.

When the train finally pulled up to my stop, I put my book back in my purse and grabbed the bottle of Coke. “Well, this is me,” I said hastily, standing and leaping over the seat in front of me. After all of this, the last thing I wanted was to turn my back to this creep. I was horrified but not exactly surprised when he stood and said, “what do you know, this is my stop too!”

Without another word, I speed-walked to the front of the station, but I could hear him keeping pace with me as his heavy boots clinked against the tile floor. I exited the turnstile and began to go at a brisk jog, morbidly curious to find out if he would continue to keep up. Unsurprisingly, he did. He wasn’t going to stop until he had me. Something snapped in me, and it was then that I did what I should have done to begin with. I caused a scene. I out-crazy’d him. I took the glass bottle of Coke by the neck and swung it against a nearby wall, shattering it and creating a makeshift weapon. I began to scream, “Do you want to fucking die, you raping piece of shit?” That was enough to catch the attention of everyone in the station. The man was taken aback, shocked by the sudden outburst from the woman he previously perceived as submissive. “Everyone in the station, may I have your attention please!” I continued to shout, holding the broken bottle out in his direction. “This sack of shit right here tried to sell me meth. He offered to buy my body and when I refused, he made sexual threats and started following me. This man was going to rape me if he had his way, so will someoneĀ please call the police?”

The creep was aghast. He took a moment to process what had happened before making a break for it. I considered chasing him, but figured it would only lead to more danger. Besides, even if that wasn’t the case, I quickly discovered that my legs had turned to jelly. I shakily took a seat and cried until the police came. They took my statement, but as far as I know they never caught the bastard. This was not the last time I was harassed on my commute, but I had to learn my street smarts pretty quickly that night and as a result I never allowed it to escalate to that point again. I’m telling this story now in hopes that whoever hears it will take my advice; if someone is making you feel threatened in a public setting, scream your goddamn lungs out.


Thank you for reading, Darkness Prevails! I’ve got a Creepypasta narration channel of my own that I recently started up, and if you’re interested I’d love to collaborate with you. That may seem bold, but despite me being new to the scene I’m pretty confident in my abilities. Below is a link to my YouTube channel. You can contact me at evieeldritch@gmail.com Thanks again!

-Evie Eldritch

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCoB1lrBIRbKk5WMrV_tt73g

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