Heave

I tap my oyster on the reader and walk through the grey barriers. My hands busy themselves, putting my oyster card in my bag and retrieving my iPod. Eyes look up briefly from the small LED  display to board the escalator and find her green dress-clad silhouette several steps ahead. Her head downcast and gently moving as her simultaneous deep inhalation and attempts to stop crying make her lungs heave and stutter. My own heart begins to beat at a faster pace, without a steady rhythm, as my mind slowly comprehends the consequence of my actions. I feel his strong hands once more, pulling my dress over my head, fingers fumbling with my knickers, the unexpected forceful nature of his actions... his caring eyes. The sound of her breathless sobbing. My throat feels as though it's swelling up as tears sting my eyes. I blink fiercely and breathe in the warm air of the underground. She steps off the escalator and I begin to walk down the few steps left before the bottom. I push past suit-clad commuters and relaxed tourists until I catch up to her and tap her on the shoulder; which is when I realise that her eyes aren't particularly sad - they are bright with fresh hatred and plans of revenge.