Competition draft

Here is a first draft of a story I am working on for a comp. I should be doing homework not blogging.

Gender Equality?
Tim Harvey

'The word pub is short for public house,' my mate informs me, beer dribbling down his chin. I smile and nod, swishing beer around in my mouth before swallowing hard. Public house. A place for everyone.
'I gotta take a slash.' He pats me on the shoulder and twirls around, disappearing through the crowd. I never was really comfortable standing at the bar by myself. I never really knew why, but I just wasn't. I finish my beer in one long gulp. It was getting warm anyway and I knew the bitter after taste would only get worse, the warmer the drink got.
A young woman slides along the bar up to where I am standing, her elbow polishing the veneer as she glides towards me.
'Hi,' she says. Her eyes are a vibrant blue and they pierce through me. She could easily be looking at the wall behind me.
'Hey,' I reply and order another beer.
'Having fun tonight?' She asks the question in a series of disjointed slurring. Her breathing is heavy and irregular.
'Just a few quiet ones with my mate,' I tell her as I pay for the beer that has been placed in front of me.
'Where is your mate?' The emphasis on “mate” is almost accusatory, as if she thinks I'm lying.
'He's in the toilet,' I reply. Her stare is violent, and I lean on the bar avoiding her gaze.
'Sure.' She sips her drink, the one that she dragged across the bar with her. 'Looking for some fun tonight?'
I look over and notice that she is dancing awkwardly, close to me. She is pretty, but she would be a whole lot more attractive if she wasn't so drunk. I realised that she probably didn't know how uncomfortable she was making me, and I let her dance in her ignorance.
'Sorry, I'm just here for a quiet one.' My words make her freeze. Her eyes open wide and she leers at me before attempting a sultry bat of the lashes.
'What? Something wrong with me?' She starts dancing again.
'No, not at all.' I watch her closely as she begins to dance closer and closer. 'You are a bit drunk though.'
She pauses again. 'Nothing wrong with that.'
'I guess not,' I say and turn back to the bar, ending the conversation.
'Come on, you look like you want to party.' I feel something terrible, and it is my turn to freeze. Her hand rests on my arse. I gulp down hard, feeling the beer rising up in my chest. She squeezes and I flinch.
'Please don't,' I say hastily, moving away from her grip.
'Come on, what's wrong with me?' She takes her hand off my jeans thankfully.
'Nothing. I'm just not interested, okay?'
'Are you gay?' Her question doesn't make sense to me. I'm just not interested in being groped in a pub by a drunken stranger.
'What? No.'
'Got a girlfriend? Is that it?'
'No.'
'You need to loosen up, baby.' She slides her arm over and places it on my chest. I feel cold and numb. Her fingers begin to eagerly stroke my chest, through my shirt. I start to feel something draining from my body. My value as a person slowly being rinsed away. She bites her lip, her eyes fixed to my chest. Her stroking, gentle at first, is now hard and terrible.
I stand there in shock. I cannot move, I can barely think. How is this happening? I feel all self worth washed clean. It isn't replaced by anything. I am empty. Tears begin to well up behind my eyes, and I let her finish.
'You like that?' She is horrible. Her hand slides out from underneath my shirt and I finally breathe. It is over. I look around the pub, breathing heavily. My eyes instinctively blinking away tears as the room becomes a blur. Nobody noticed. Nobody here cared what was happening to me. Am I invisible? Why would nobody care about me?
'Loosen up baby!' She grunts at me, into my ear. I can smell the booze on her breath.
She does something. At first I cannot tell what is happening. I am still recovering from what she has just done. I cannot feel. I don't exist.
She grabs at my crotch. Her fingers glide over my jeans. I feel them wrap around me. My chest constricts. I can't breathe. I inhale, but cannot get any air out. My mouth hangs open, and I cannot breathe. The tears are too powerful to hold back. How can she do this? Why does she think this is okay?
'Please,' I choke out.
'Shut up and enjoy it you pussy.' Her fingers grab harshly at me. I feel as if she wants to rip through my jeans.
Something must be done. I can't take it. I glance around the room again. Nobody cares. Nobody.
I feel something building up inside me. Something powerful. With each tug and violent stroke at my pants, the pressure builds up inside me. It makes me feel warm and safe. I feel it begin to bubble to the surface.
'Stop.' I whisper it harshly in her ear. 'Stop, now.' Something has returned to me, some value.
'Shut up,' her eyes are fixed on my groin.
I will not allow this to happen to me.
'Get the fuck off me, you pervert!' I yell it into her face. Her fingers tighten and I cannot stop myself.
I raise my fist and throw it through her face.
She falls back and stumbles into a table. Her nose begins to shoot blood and she screams.
I feel a hand on my shoulder.
'We don't do that here, mate!'
I go limp and accept what will happen. As my face is slammed against the bar I close my eyes and try to forget everything. I feel sharp stabbing pains in my cheek and curl into a ball on the floor as my body is destroyed by hard boots and pool cues.

I wake up in the hospital, there is a tube in my mouth. I cannot see out of one eye. When I ask the doctor if he can remove the bandage over my eye he gives me a stern look. The look is frightening and I feel my stomach twist and contort. He informs me that my eye has been removed.
Two police officers come to see me. They tell me that the people who assaulted me will be tried. They also inform me that my assault trial will begin when I am out of the hospital. I ask if the woman is okay. They tell me that stayed at the pub and had a few more drinks. The story sounds distant and I have to ask.
I have been here for three weeks.

My trial is quick and justice is done. I am sentenced to six months imprisonment for assault with intent to cause grievous bodily harm.
In jail a man touches me on the arse. I do nothing.
After one month I untie the shoelaces from my shoes. The knot I create is weak and feeble. It breaks, like me.
I stay away from people now. I am an object, not a person.


I plan to extend this to get to 3000 words, just a first draft at the moment.