This was inspired by 'Scuffle in the New York Subway (Sophomore Fight)' By Plutonion2 (Caspian). I read his story then one time I got a tram into town and thought hmmmm...Also, I changed things 'cos I'm not American.
For those of you who are interested, the route is correct, and it takes 2-3 minutes between stops and even if no one is getting on or off it will still wait at least 15 seconds at each stop.
Currently reading a Jessica Jones novel "Breaking the Dark" by Lisa Jewell. great book, so I think Sally is a bit more Jessica Jones than usual.
The story forms part of a series, but I think there's enough background for anyone to catch up.
Sally 06 – Priya. Interracial Harmony on the Tram to Deansgate.
Once upon a time, there were two little girls. They did MMA at a gym owned by Meg and one day they had a match. The loser let's call her Tracy resented losing to one 'Of them', and suggested they have a proper no-rules scrap.
Meg decided to sell tickets and they sold like hotcakes. The battle was a long brutal fight, both going at it hammer and tongs. At the end of the battle, a half-naked Tracy was thoroughly drubbed, the crowd was ecstatic. Meg saw an opportunity to make some much-needed money after a recession and COVID-19. She decided to create this as a regular event. She started asking for volunteers. That's how it all began according to Tess.
Which is where I come in. I was just a mild-mannered Physics student until Tracy recruited me, she put me forward as a proposition, and Priya nominated some fat cow called Melissa. I beat Melissa. So, Meg hired me. And I became Tracy's protege.
Turns out and I didn't know it at the time, that Tracy has always been a racist piece of shit. Which is sad, she was a nice person apart from that, but hey, Hitler loved his dogs. The problem was that Priya, seeing me be friendly with Tracy also thought I was a racist piece of shit.
That is the heart of it. Now begin in the middle, you've heard the beginning; the end will take care of itself. As a wise man once said.
I'd got my money from winning the audition, my winnings from our little betting scam and my winnings from my Mugglefight. I was flush with winnings. So, what the fuck I booked a week in Ibiza with Jane and Yvonne, my housemates from Uni. I'd told them I won some money in the Lottery, (they're both arts students so didn't question why someone who understood probability theory did the lottery) and it was my treat. To fully enjoy the holiday, we needed to dress up. So, we hit the Trafford Centre, the biggest shopping mall in Europe, hungry for party clothes.
First stop, casuals, something for the airport/plane. I want a new T-shirt to replace my old Ian Hunter one. You know Ian Hunter, Mott the Hoople? All the Young Dudes? The greatest musician Shrewsbury, my hometown, ever produced. I still have my T-shirt from when I saw him in Manchester in 2019. My dad drove me after I nagged him into it. It was fucking fantastic! But that T-shirt has seen better days and I'm desperate for a replacement. I ask at the music shop, as shit, they've got Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jefferson Soddin' Airplane, you would have thought they'd have Mott the Hopple, but nope. I also ask about a Steve Earle shirt for Sam, my boyfriend, but no, what a surprise! But at least I can say I asked. I settle for a Bob Dylan shirt; he did that song 'All Along the Watchtower' on that old show Battlestar Galactica.
Casual clothes sorted, and now we hit the shops for the fashionable stuff. I picked out some sexy swimwear, and clubbing clothes, all to go with my fresh look, did I tell you I'm a redhead now? I dyed it for the mugglefight and decided I liked the look. I'd never used to be big on that kind of stuff, I tended to go for casualwear, like the red tank top and shorts I'm wearing now, but it's funny how being stark naked in front of a crowd of cheering fans changes your perception of your own body, it does something quite nice to your body image and now I've got the money to do something about it!
After our shopping fix, we head to a fine restaurant for a meal that includes courses and napkins, instead of just Kentucky Fried Chicken or Burger King (NEVER McDonald's, bland tasteless crap). All fed and shopped out we go and stand at the stop waiting for our tram home. For my international readers and Londoners, the trams of Manchester are like subway or tube trains on the inside, 'cept they run above ground and aren't as fast. They're pretty cool and…
"Shit!"
I see Priya talking with a group of friends. I wouldn't describe Priya as pretty, she was gorgeous! Long dark silky hair, and an amazing figure. She was wearing a green tank top, showing her ample perky tits and denim shorts, showing off her tight little ass. She could have been a Bollywood actor. Nope no jealousy, there.
I see her looking at me, a flash of anger and she then starts saying something angry to her friends. I can't make out what she's saying, it's Hindi, but she's looking towards me, and I make out the word Yoni, I know that one. (Hint: four-letter word beginning with 'c'). Yep, looking at me and the word 'yoni' is not a good combination. She seems to be really riled up and her friends are getting that way as well.
"Do you know them?" Jane asks.
"No", I lie.
"They seem to be angry about something…".
I smile, "We'll just make sure we're in the other carriage".
I go through the scenarios in my head. Plan A, we get on the tram, Priya comes after me, and her friends go after my friends.
Shit.
Okay, Plan B, my friends get on the tram, I don't, Priya has no one to pick on, my friends go home unscathed, and I get a later tram.
Plan B. It is then. I wait until we sit down on the tram and Priya and her posse are settled. Then suddenly I remember there was this outfit that I really, really needed. I'll get the next tram back and get an Uber home. Sorry.
I get off the tram just as the doors close, catastrophe averted. Shame that outfit wasn't in the right size I think, as I wait for the next tram.
Fifteen minutes later a tram pulls into the stop. I board the tram, bloody hell I've got the tram to myself, and settle myself in for a pleasant trip home.
"Hello, little chicken shit!"
Priya is sitting down opposite me. She must have seen I was not on the tram with my friends and instead of giving up must have decided to get the next tram back and confront me.
Fuck!
Trafford Centre to Barton Dock Road.
The tram moves off. I'm trapped.
"Not so brave without Tracy to back you up, are you? I wanted to get you in the cage, but Meg said it wasn't fair".
"Who to?", I snark.
I get the impression that my decision to avoid trouble has infuriated her even more. She interpreted my desire to not involve my friends as cowardice. And shit, she asked Meg for a match with me. Eventually, she will try to beat me up. I either watch my back for the rest of my life, or we can settle it now, my inner voice tells me. Get in, hit her hard, show her you're no coward, no push-over, and the driver will probably break it up. Point proven, honour restored, simples.
"I don't like racist scum". She states.
"Neither do I!", I reply.
SLAP!
My slap takes her unaware, that's the idea, take the enemy by surprise, she wouldn't be expecting it here. Quickly, I remove my glasses, and my arms grab for her head, getting her in a headlock.
She fights back, we're standing now, going for each other, arms around necks, firing punches up into each other's bodies. I push her back, and she throws up a knee, catching me in the breasts. Shit that hurt. I hear the doors bleep, she slams me against the doors holding me by the tank top as she pushes me into the door, my arse hits the door release button, and they open. Shit. I fall back, she still has my tank top, and it rips, bitch.
I stagger out backwards into the empty tram stop, she's coming after me.
I kick, clocking her under the chin. I rush forward grabbing her by the arms and I throw her to the ground as I run for the open doors, all my fucking stuff is in there! Shit! Regaining her composure, she turns and rushes towards me, too late. The doors beep. I wave as the doors shut. She looks furious; her fingers jabbing at the door buttons to get them to open. I'm still waving. So long sucker, they never re-open the doors.
Barton Dock Road to Parkway.
As the doors re-open, my mouth drops and her fist flies into it, I stagger back. What the actual fucking fuck! What the fuck is the driver doing anyway? Surely, he can see what we are doing, why hasn't he tried to stop us?
The doors shut. She comes after me pounding blows into my body. The tram turns, she loses her footing, and I slam her body into one of the seats. I jump on top of her pinning her arms, my left arm goes straight across her throat, and my right punches anything I can find. She can't block me; I fucking own her.
Shit. The tram turns again, and I lose my balance, and my pin, her fist slugs me across the face, and I fall off her onto the floor. She kicks her foot, and it slams into my breasts. Fuck! I fall back onto the floor. She raises her foot to stomp. I roll, and she stamps on the floor. She stomps again, I grab her foot unbalancing her, and she falls back in the seat.
Beep, beep, beep. End of Round One.
The beeping means the doors can be opened now. Wordlessly we stop, neither of us wants to fall out of the carriage again and we don't know who might get on, maybe inspectors, maybe the police. Reluctantly, we move back to opposite sides of the carriage, never taking our eyes off each other.
"I thought you were supposed to be tough", I jeer. Yes, I am trying to get under her skin.
She just sneers at me "Oh we'll see...". Then she smirks.
"...if you're a screamer or a moaner".
"What?" I ask.
"What your cum face looks like".
"Leezbo bitch!"
"Yes, I am". She says proudly.
Shit, I don't know about getting under her skin but she sure as shit got under mine.
We both lean against opposite sides of the carriage, glaring at each other, breathing hard. I try to rearrange my tank top strap, but I can't, it's fucked. I keep thinking Captain Cook. Seventeen-seventy-nine, on Valentine's Day, a mob of Hawaiians armed with sticks and knives take on the British Navy, the most powerful military force in the world, with trained soldiers armed with guns. Still, they managed to kill Captain Cook. This was one of the first things Meg ever taught us, a fight is chaos, and sometimes the unexpected, shit, happens. The best/biggest/strongest fighter will not always win. I hold on to this lesson.
Parkway to Village.
Beep, beep, beep.
The bleeping indicates the doors are locked; you can't open them now. Seconds out, round two.
We dance towards each other fists raised. She swings to my face, and I block. I jab at her body. She grabs me by the head to hold me in place, as she punches at my face. Then her knee slams into my belly. I gasp, bending over, she puts her hands together and swings. Spittle flies out of my mouth, decorating the window. I'm getting fucked here.
She kicks, and I grab her foot. I flash her a smile as she hops comically on one foot. Then I swing the bitch. She flies into the rows of seats. Legs and arms askew, she's trapped, I move in to give her a good pounding. She tries to hold me off, but she can't stop the fists.
She's wiggling, writhing trying to get herself free as I fire slaps into her face. The slaps echo around the carriage as her head rocks from side to side. The kick knocks me back into the seats on the other side of the carriage, I catch myself before I fall into the seats. I kick the bitch back before she can start in on me.
Scrambling to get ready, we pause. Then we yell and charge into each other. I grab her hair and swing her into the seats. She comes back with a left hook; I move and the fist whistles by my head as her other fist hammers my right breast. The pain stuns me.
Beep, beep, beep.
We move back to either side of the carriage. I get a tissue from my purse on the seat. And wipe the blood from my nose.
"You've been lucky you little shit, but sooner or later luck runs out".
"I think you're talking about regression to the mean, shithead. It's not luck it's a skill..."
" ... or maybe you're just getting old". She is right, I have been lucky, but I'm still going, and Captain Cook.
Village to Imperial War Museum.
Beep, beep, beep. Round three.
Fuck it, head down, I charge her, driving her into one of the seats. I'm on top, and I start pounding. She gets her feet under me and launches me into the pole in the middle of the carriage. I bounce off the pole into her right hook. I kick out, and instead of her stomach, I get her leg, shit. She kicks me in the stomach, I gasp bending over, and she grabs me by the hair, driving me into the window. I bounce back but reaching out with my hands I drag her to the floor with me.
We roll, struggling for dominance, the bitch climbs on my back, reaches around and pulls my mouth open as far as she can. Shit. I try to rise; the bitch is fucking heavy, but I manage, just, to get up, I rise, staggering around the carriage. She tries to steer me towards the pole in the centre of the carriage, I move away, then stagger back into the window, trying to flatten her.
"Oof!"
But she does not release and starts thumping the back of my head. I stagger under the weight and crash to the floor. The bitch is lying underneath me, her legs wrapped around mine. Her hands reach for my tits and,
"Fuuucccckkk!!!!!"
Her fingers dig into my titflesh. I'm screaming blue murder. Her fingers gouge into my nipples, stretching my breasts like they were pizza dough.
My struggle becomes hysterical now. I raise my buttocks and slam them down into her belly. I get a gasp, but no end to the tit torture.
I start throwing back my head, hoping I'll hit something. I do, I hear the scream and feel the wet liquid on the back of my head, and she releases. Like a rocket, I'm up on my feet and pull her back along the carriage by the hair with both my hands, as she screams and twists, then I start stomping.
She tries to roll out of the way, but I still have her by the hair, I get her stomach, and she gags.
Beep, beep, beep.
I get in a quick spiteful kick to the head before I move away. She tries to get up but fails. Smarmily, I gesture for her to get up.
When I get to my side of the carriage I look at my burning, red breasts. I don't have much choice as my tank top has been reduced to a belt. I wince, they're so fucking sore to the fucking touch.
From the other side of the carriage, Priya, having managed to get up, laughs.
"Poor little sugar tits. Not so perky now are they?"
I mutter something witty like fuck off you piece of shit.
Imperial War Museum to Wharfside
Beep, beep, beep. Round four.
We both go for each other, hands gripping hands. I try to get my arms around her, but she grabs my head pulling it forward. She goes down pulling my head with her, a badly done piledriver, thank fuck. I punch her side, then her head. She pulls my hair. I grab hers. Swinging in punches to the side of my head, I punch back. I get my arm around her neck. She pulls at my hair. She punches at my leg. Then pulling my hair, rolls me over. I'm on my back; she's on top banging my head.
I punch her nose, she screams, and pull her off and roll to the side. Kneeling I grab at her body, hammering her back. I get my legs around her body. Sitting and still hammering on her back. She rolls to the side. I'm in front of her now, swinging punches into her face. She pulls my hair pulling me over her back. I somersault over her landing on my back. With a yell she's swinging her fists down into my belly, I gasp.
Then she starts pounding down, mechanically, and I feel my stomach cramping.
Beep, beep, beep.
We separate, and I wipe the blood from my lip, with one hand while I clutch my stomach.
"Fucking bitch!" I curse.
"You're gonna get it, mieccha slag!" she replies.
Wharfside to Pomona.
Beep, beep fucking beep. Round five. I'm tired, Where's the fucking driver? Where the fuck are we?
Priya dances, keeping her distance, letting me come at her. I'm too fucking ready to oblige. I charge in hard, with wild hooks, which go nowhere. Priya responds with short but effective jabs to my nostrils and lips. I taste more blood. Then she lets out a blizzard of punches, I let out a loud grunt as I'm forced back, and the tram slows, sending me lurching dangerously backwards!
Priya rushes after me, pouncing on my instability, shoving my head back painfully, and I trip, losing my balance, and landing on my arse with a loud thud.
She jumps on top of me, pinning my arms. Slapping the shit out of me. I get my legs under her arms and MMA her to the carriage floor.
I rear up, spitefully I tear her tank top and bra and start slapping the shit out of her tits like I'm playing the bongos. I'm sending those baps every which way, sweat spraying off them, with some nice red handprints for her to remember me by.
Beep, beep, beep. Shit.
We rise to face each other, fire in our eyes.
"Dog I will drink your blood" She mutters as she raises her fists menacingly.
“I am so gonna fuck you up, bitch”. I say, arms raised, ready for her.
I catch my reflection in the window, bloody hell! What happened to 'simples'? I ask my inner voice. My hair is a mess, like a wet mop, plastered to my head, my tank top is bunched around my waist, so my battered, marked-up tits stare back at me asking 'What the actual Fuck!', my face, yeah, two black eyes, bruises, my nose running blood like a tap complementing my busted lip. But Fuck it. I won't back down, I never back down. My only consolation is that Priya is in no better shape. A black eye, bruises, check. That silky hair, not so silky now eh bitch? And I love those angry handprints on those perfect breasts.
I realise I don't care what that stupid fucking driver is doing anymore I just want to see it through to the end.
Pomona to Cornbrook
Beep, beep, beep. Round fucking six.
Priya moves towards me, throwing jabs into my arms, ramping up the pressure, she's trying to cripple me. I back away from her, but she isn't having it, she crowds in. More slaps to my face. I'm getting picked apart, she's grinning.
"Hnnnnghhhh!"
My right hook sails at her face out of nowhere, violently reshaping her cheek. Sending her crashing hard into the glass doors!
I was playing possum, sucker! I've got Priya right where I want her, trapped against the carriage doors and rocking her body repeatedly with punch after punch! The thud of my punch and a groan from Priya, it's music to my ears.
I'm tearing her apart, she tries to bend over and make herself smaller. I bully myself into her, shoving those flimsy arms apart before burying my fist into her stomach repeatedly, folding her over with her butt pressed into the glass doors. The third blow to the body has her hunched over and sagging into my waiting arms. Looking down at her I'm grinning as I drive another fist upwards into her chin!
"Ugh!".
All the poor bitch can do is fall back into the sliding doors, her limp body sliding down the glass doors and crumpling into a heap on the floor!
I let out a roar as I kick her when she's down, good! Captain fucking Cook!
My grin grows wider as I reach down and ‘help’ a moaning Priya to her feet with two hands buried into her dishevelled hair. Priya’s eyes flutter as I push her up against the doors of the carriage, again, I'm gonna pound her good. Priya’s head slumps on my shoulder, gasping desperately for the breath that's being forced out of her body by my fist disappearing into her guts.
I'm ecstatic. It’s an all-me now as I realise I'm in full control of this fight, I'm fucking winning! I pull Priya’s head roughly backwards, banging it into the doors, smirking into her shocked face:
“What were you going to do to me, bitch?"
"Hnnaaaahggggh!”
Priya’s knee crashes upwards in between my thighs, sending shockwaves through my body. There's a blinding flash of white-hot pain, I scream.
I'm slumping down to my knees, whimpering, both my hands clutching at my wounded crotch, suddenly I'm powerless and at her mercy. It's her turn to grab two handfuls of hair, tugging my head roughly to either side and slapping me silly left to right.
I'm fucked.
Beep, beep, beep.
Cornbrook to Deansgate (End of the Line).
We hear the doors and then the voices. We have company. I feel relieved. Priya sits down immediately, and I crawl for a seat, clutching my crotch. We end up sitting down facing each other, as we hear the two giggling girls get on. We scramble to get our clothes straight, like six-year-old kids getting caught doing something naughty by our mum. They're sitting further down the carriage; they don't give a shit. Then I notice, they're looking at us, maybe they do give a shit.
As the tram moves off, one of the girls shouts.
“Who’s winning?”
Never taking our eyes off each other we both shout.
“I am!”
We sit in silence. Priya stares daggers at me as I try to recover, thankful for the interruption. I mouth the words "Fuck you". She smiles and slowly draws a finger across her throat.
Beep, beep, beep.
We're at Deansgate now, as the girls step off, one of the girls shouts:
"You all have fun!".
The other shouts.
“May the best woman win!”.
We hear the doors shut, and we launch off our chairs and lunge at each other. Hands in each other's hair and shooting fists in each other's faces. She slams me back into the seat and I get my legs around her neck squeezing and banging her head into the seat while she grabs at my tits.
Then we hear the doors.
"Priya and Sally fighting on my tram! Bugger me!"
It's the fucking driver. She's got a great big grin on her face. We bolt up upright to try to straighten our clothes and cover our tits.
"I thought I recognised you, Sally when you got on the tram. But then Priya...I'd know you anywhere, gets in the same carriage. I knew it was going to be something special and it was, I was glued to the security camera!".
She sounds like a little fangirl. Fuck me, I have fans!??!!
"You had me going when Priya was out of the tram, good job I was on the job and opened the doors in time".
Priya asks, puzzled, "You know us?"
The Driver says, “I recognise you from the club, Meg's Gym. I go to all the fights".
"You're Priya, I loved that cavegirl fight". She looks over at me.
"And you're that new girl, Sally. I loved the job you did on the blonde".
"Melissa?"
"Yeah, she was curvy that one...".
Curvy? She was fucking fat!
"...But you fucked her over real good!"
"Hang on I remember you..." says Priya.
"...didn't you give me a pair of knickers to sign?"
"Yeah," the guard says, giggling like a little kid. "It's framed on my wall."
Were they clean knickers? A part of me wants to gag in my mouth, while another part of me petulantly thinks 'No one has asked me to sign their knickers'.
"This is so cool. I'd love to stay and watch, but I've got a changeover to do...".
"...You finish the fight; I'll be back in 15 minutes, to go the other way, so you'll need to be gone by then...".
"Shouldn't take that long!". Priya glares threateningly at me. I flash her the V-sign.
"...I'll leave the doors so you can get out after you finish...”.
“...I’m definitely keeping the security tape”. She sxxxxxxx as she hops out of the carriage and shuts the door.
All alone. We both stare at each other. Ready for the final round.
"Looks like you're at the end of the line, sheep shagger" Priya hisses.
"Try me!"
"Okay!"
We grab hold of hair, not just pulling, but trying to get the other girl off balance. Hair wrapped around hands we pull in hard yanks. Legs and knees kicking to try and trip each other.
Eventually, Priya succeeds and sends me to the floor. However, as I fall, I still have a two-handed hold of Priya's hair. I yank hard pulling Priya to the floor as well.
Priya has her fist out ready to go for my stomach, but she falls between my legs, so I close my legs trapping Priya in a scissor. Twisting Priya ends up on her side with me squeezing for all I was worth.
"Gotcha. You're all mine now". I proclaim.
Through her pain, Priya starts to unload punch after punch into my breasts.
"See how you like that you white shit". She spits back.
Each time Priya punches I yelp and pulse my scissors, getting a groan out of Priya in retaliation.
This is turning into a battle of endurance.
Suddenly Priya changes tactics and starts using her fists to grind my breasts flat. Twisting her fists and taking a nipple between her fingers she twists. I try to fight back squeezing Priya’s tits in both hands. Priya cries out but then starts to pull as well as twist.
I scream releasing the scissors. Aiming a hard kick at Priya's leg I scramble to get up.
We both rise, me holding my breasts, Priya limping slightly from the kick.
"Who's going home in an ambulance?". I mock. I'm in a bad way too, but I dare not show it in
front of the enemy.
"Fucking white shit!" Priya spits back.
Priya swings a kick at my stomach, followed by a swinging fist to the side of my head. I stagger away, desperately trying to get out of range. Priya moves towards me determined to finish me off.
And walks straight into a punch to her face, followed by a series of blows to her stomach with alternate fists. Now it's Priya's turn to stagger back. I smile.
"Your ass is mine!"
Desperate to avoid defeat, Priya dives forward, her head hitting me in the stomach, I bang hard into the doors, hitting it with a thud, driving the breath out of me. I'm stunned, my brain is spinning. Then she grasps my hair and starts banging my head against the glass. My brain's gone from spinning to scrambled. I reach out for Priya's breasts in a vain attempt to make the suffering stop. It doesn't work, at this point, my grasp is more like a caress.
After the third, fourth, fifth? Sixth? Bang, Priya stops. She's just holding me up by the head, staring into my glassy eyes.
"You're fucked little girl!"
She lets out a hiss of triumph, and then she releases her grip, and I slide down the doors. Squeaking all the way down. I think I…
…black…ou…t
The next thing I remember, my shorts and knickers are around my legs, something between my legs. Somebody nearby is breathing, gasping, sighing loudly. I want to tell the girl how embarrassing it sounds. Then I realise it's me.
I feel her fingers caressing my breasts, my nipples are rock hard and her other hand…
…her other hand is between my legs, inside me, gently caressing. I can feel her hot breath on my neck. I try to struggle; she holds me tight. There's nothing I can do as she invades my body.
"Shhh, shhh" she whispers in my ear, "Your cute little ass is all mine now. And I intend to enjoy it"
I feel her crotch pumping against my cute little ass, rhythmically, getting faster with her breathing. I struggle, moaning, my body soaked in sweat. From the fight? From this? I struggle to fight back, but my body betrays me. I can feel…
…I can feel…
OHMYGOD!
The orgasm overwhelms me. I flop on the floor, breathless, gasping, like a landed fish. My surrender is complete. Total.
Wiping her fingers on my tank top, she rises. Smiling gently to herself.
"You sure do have sugar tits", she said.
In silence, I pick up my glasses, phone and shopping bags. I feel dirty.
I punch the door button and walk out into the night. Behind me, Priya shouts out.
"You never called me Paki".
I turn around, "No" I reply.
"Even when I was ripping your tits off, you never lost it and called me Paki. You all do..."
"...why? ".
"Because you're not Pakistani you're Indian. You're not Muslim you're Hindu, which means you have more colourful Gods than the X-men".
She is about to say something else, but I don't want to talk to her anymore. I walk away before she can get the words out.
It's getting dark, the hours getting late, the wind blows, I feel it blowing on my tits. Shit, I'm almost naked. Luckily I bought that T-shirt, I get it out of the bag and put it over my bare breasts, fuck, the T-shirt feels like sandpaper.
This whole thing with Tracy and Priya. When everybody at the gym finds out about the fight... it's going to get tense, and everybody is gonna have to pick a side. Which side am I on? Tracy is nice, she got me into this catfight business, she is however a racist piece of shit. And Priya…I can see her point of view, but she's a piece of shit as well.
Deansgate has a taxi rank. I'll go to Sam's. I'll text Jane and Yvonne and tell them where I'm staying. Too many questions. There's too much confusion, I can't get any relief.
Sam.
I debate how much I'll tell Sam, the fight sure, but the after, the humiliation? I...No, I'll tell him everything. I realise he's the only person I can talk to about all of this. I'll see what he says. Did I ever mention that Sam is short for Samir?
Why didn't I tell her?
Because I didn't want to play the 'I can't be racist 'cos my boyfriend is Indian card', AND BECAUSE IT WAS NONE OF HER DAMNED FUCKING BUSINESS, and to be honest I don't think she would have cared.
I realise I'm crying. How long have I been doing that? I hope I didn't start in front of Priya.
I get the feeling this is not the end of the story I'm still in the middle. I'm too fucked to think about it now, I'm hoping that the end will take care of itself, but I doubt it.
I'm walking in darkness towards the taxi rank. All along Deansgate, I hear a stray cat growling, two Deliveroo riders go past, and the wind begins to howl.
