i was young, and he must have been in his 60s, sat next to me on an overnight. he started talking about all sorts of things, and i listened politely. after awhile, i got tired, and started dozing off, 3 hours out from the middle of nowhere. it was a fairly empty train car.

he put the cover on his lap over mine as well as i dozed off. i thought that was kind, until his hand wandered onto my lap.

i was so young, and scared, and used to it. i froze. his hand slowly rubbed its way towards the center of me. i whimpered, tried to squirm his hand out, and he grabbed my hand, threaded his finger through mine, stroking his thumb gently in circles on the back if my hand. he hushed me so softly i could barely hear it.

a flood of comfort and shame. i wasn't showed very much tenderness from my other abusers, but this stranger on the train patiently soothed me as he molested me. i was so, so comfort starved.

after i stopped squirming and whimpering, he put his hand into my leggings, even slower than when he started, hushing me every now and then when i made a small sound. i tried to pretend i was asleep. i tried to pretend i didn't exist. eventually he got into my underwear. i saw his hand moving under his side of the blanket. i could hear my own fear-induced wetness as he fingered me.

i remember him humming.

eventually he stopped, and grabbed hold of my hand again. i tried to tug it away once, but he just grasped me firmly with a stern sound, putting his thumb in circles again and again around the back of my hand. i remember trying not to cry, because it felt so soft and nice.

we got off on the same stop. we small talked while funneling out. my heart was in my throat. right before we parted ways, he looked me in the eye and said "you're a heavy sleeper, aren't you darling?"

my face was on fire. i stuttered and he laughed knowingly, leaving me there.