"The men eyed her with the automatic mix of curiosity, lust, and aesthetic judgement they always gave young women, subject to object, the way you'd stare at an animal. She pretended not to notice. To remind them she was a person was too much effort. Objects bore no guilt."
Sometimes you're nothing but meat. A lamb in a lion's den. Some people ACHE to be the meat. They'd give everything to sacrifice themselves. I never understood it. This vignette of life is mine. Recently it happened, again, it is not uncommon. I could sense the hunter like a bee senses fear. The eyes were locked, prowling, lurking, licking their chops, about to pounce on the meat. They interlaced in the crowd. But I knew where each one was. I felt the past clouding around me like blood in shark infested waters. We were all animals here. The sharks circled me, knowing what I have done. I was unsure if they knew...what they knew, but it felt all too familiar. I wasn't alone in being stalked. I'd been here before. Now I'm on the other side of the mirror. I knew I wasn't supposed to be here, and as I looked back through the looking glass, I couldn't help but wonder if things were different on this side.
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