The Stories We Tell Ourselves by L.M. Merrington
Is this outfit too revealing? Will people think I’m a slut?
What about these shoes? Will I be able to run in them if I need to?
"Show us your dick!"
I hate the way they undress me with their eyes. But if I say something they might come after me. They might even rape me. Just keep walking and pretend you haven’t heard.
I’m glad there’s a big group of us tonight. Having the girls around makes me feel safer—we’re less likely to get trouble from predatory women.
Michael just said he saw a girl slip something into my drink when I wasn’t looking. I'm so lucky to have friends who look out for me, but it worries me that they need to.
There’s a group of young women down there who are pissed and starting to get a bit aggressive. Please don’t let them come this way. If they target me, what will I do? Will I move to another carriage? Or should I get off at the next station and hope they don’t follow me? Don’t look their way—they might take it as encouragement.
Home safe. Jack and I have a buddy system—we always text each other to make sure we got home okay. He wants to know if I’d like to go out again tomorrow night, but I think I’ll suggest we watch a movie at one of our places instead.