18 Jan 2020
“Don’t touch me,” Cazzu says.
The man doesn’t back off; in fact, he leans in closer, leering down at her chest. He’s not quite touching her yet, but with his arm around the back of her seat, he’s close enough. He stinks of alcohol and sweat. Cazzu has to fight not to gag when his breath hits her cheek.
“I said, don’t touch me,” she repeats.
“It’s fine, sweetie,” he says. “I just want -”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish the sentence, because at that moment, Cazzu bursts into flames.