Chapter 1: The Train Ride From Hell

Taking the Amtrak home for the holiday, I slipped on my headphones, feeling the cool press of plastic against my ears, and let out a quiet sigh. I was ready to lean back and catch some sleep, hoping to leave the week’s exhaustion somewhere behind me on the tracks.

The train hummed beneath me, and the familiar metallic rattle of the rails was oddly soothing, the kind of background noise that wrapped around you like an old blanket. The world outside streaked by in smears of trees and distant city lights. I settled in, hoping that steady rhythm would finally shake off the exhaustion that had been clinging to me all week.

But as soon as I tried to rest my head, I bumped into something hard. Ow. Seriously?

It wasn’t the armrest or the window. My head jerked back, and for a second, I thought maybe I’d just messed up the seat angle or something. But no—there was definitely something else, something heavy pressing into the back of my seat.

I turned and saw a bald guy sitting behind me, both feet propped up on the back of my seat—big, dirty boots and all. Figures.

The boots were caked with dried mud, the kind that left flaky trails on the seat back. If he even had socks, they were buried somewhere in all that mess. He looked like the kind of guy who didn’t give a damn about anyone else’s comfort, or about public spaces in general.

I tried to keep it polite: “Hey man, could you put your feet down?” Big mistake.

I tried to keep my voice even, almost apologetic, not wanting to start anything. No such luck. But as soon as I finished, he straightened up, his face tightening like I’d just insulted his mother.

He shot me a cold glare and said, “Why do you care where I put my feet? Don’t you know how to mind your own business? Didn’t your teachers ever teach you to mind your own business?”

His voice was loud enough to turn a couple of heads nearby. Great, now everyone’s looking.

“I mean, I just want to lean back and catch a nap, that’s all.”

My voice cracked a little, but I tried to keep my tone light, like we could just laugh it off and go back to ignoring each other. I glanced at the window, wishing I could just disappear.

He snapped, “My girlfriend’s not feeling well today. Can’t I just hold her and chill like this?” Unbelievable.

He gestured toward the girl curled up on his lap, like that made it all okay. I caught a glimpse of her—she looked young, with dyed hair and earbuds jammed in, eyes closed to the world.

Unbelievable. I looked at him, unable to hold back: “Dude, lie down all you want, but do you really have to put your feet right above my head?”

There was a little tremor in my voice, more frustration than anger. I tried to keep it reasonable, hoping he’d see some sense if I didn’t escalate.

Nobody wants drama on a train ride. When you’re traveling, everyone’s got it tough. I didn’t want to make a scene, so I tried to keep things civil.

Seriously. Nobody needs a shouting match on a packed train. I figured if I stayed calm, maybe he’d back off. I shot a quick glance at the other passengers, hoping someone might chime in, but everyone was staring at their phones or pretending not to hear.

But seeing me stay calm, he just sneered and said, “I’ll do whatever the hell I want. Who are you to tell me otherwise? Did you pay for this seat? Say one more word and I’ll beat the crap out of you!” Was he for real?

His voice dropped low, threatening. The words hung in the air, heavy and ugly. I could feel my hands clench around the armrest, my pulse thumping in my ears.

Yeah, sure. When my brother comes to pick me up at the station, let’s see if you’ve got the guts to stick around! I let out a cold laugh. Beat me up? Fine.

A bitter little smile crept onto my lips. I pictured my older brother waiting at the station, just out of habit, the kind of guy who’d stand up for me even if he had no idea what was going on. He always had my back.

I stood up and said, “Can you show a little decency? This is a train car. If you want to cuddle with your girlfriend, do it at home!”

My voice was louder this time, the words tumbling out before I could stop myself. I felt the eyes of the passengers on me, a mixture of curiosity and discomfort. Someone coughed.

Guess I surprised him. The bald guy didn’t expect that. He looked embarrassed and kicked my seat hard.

He grunted, his face flushing red, and for a second I thought he might actually stand up and swing. The seat jolted under me, my lower back stinging from the impact.

I thought about how there were just over four hours left before I’d be home. I forced down my anger. Sat back down, flipped down the tray table, tried to nap.

I pressed my forehead to the cold plastic, willing myself to just breathe and let it go. Four hours. I could handle four hours. I’d been through worse.

Seeing me sit down, the bald guy snapped his fingers, like he’d just scored a point, clearly proud of himself.

He leaned back, a smug grin on his face, and the sound echoed through the car. It was like he wanted everyone to know he’d won this round. I could feel his smugness from a mile away.

The girl lying on his lap cooed, “Benny, you’re amazing! You’re so tough!”

Her voice was syrupy sweet, and she giggled like it was all some kind of game. I rolled my eyes, wishing I could drown them out with my music. Unbelievable.

Seriously, what a pair of jerks. They deserve each other, I muttered under my breath.

Let them hear. I said it just loud enough for myself, but maybe she heard. I didn’t care. I pulled my hoodie tighter around my face, trying to block out the world.