Exposed The Fake Victim

It was the New Years holiday weekend, and I had been invited to the citys annual Comic-Con.

The transit bus was packed to the gills. I had just squeezed my way on when a sharp, hysterical shriek pierced the air right next to me.

The girl beside me was sobbing, pointing a trembling finger at my face.

"What do you think you're doing? You pervert! Get your hands off me!"

The words acted like a match to a powder keg. The surrounding passengers swarmed us instantly. Before I could even process what was happening, several heavy hands grabbed my shoulders and slammed me hard against the cold glass of the window.

"Scumbag! Doing that in broad daylight!"

I struggled against their grip, my chest tight with a mix of panic and fury. "What are you talking about? I didn't touch you! You're making things up!"

"Yes, you did!" she wept, her voice trembling with theatrical distress. "You reached right under my clothes! Why else would my zipper be down?"

That was all the crowd needed to hear.

"Shameless creep!"

"Disgusting trash! Someone take a video of his face!"

Amid the sea of curses and aggressive shoves, I managed to slip a hand into my pocket, desperately trying to pull out my phone to dial 911.

This was completely insane.

The "victim" crying her eyes out was a guy.

And I? I am a girl.

Who was assaulting whom, exactly?

"He did it," the college girl sobbed, pointing a finger at me. "The second I got on, I felt someone groping my back. I turned around, and he was pressed right against me! Who else could it have been?"

The air in the bus seemed to freeze. Every eye in the carriage locked onto me, heavy with judgment.

"Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. Don't cry." An older woman in a heavy winter coat pushed through the crowd, handing the girl a tissue before turning a venomous glare in my direction. "Broad daylight, and you're pulling this crap on a public bus? Do you think the rest of us are dead?"

"Exactly! Don't let him get away with it!" someone shouted from the back.

"Don't worry, honey, we'll all testify for you!"

Being the target of all that collective rage made my skin crawl, but the sheer absurdity of the situation almost made me want to laugh.

"Everyone shut up!"

I roared, my voice cutting through the noise. I pointed directly at the weeping student. "Are you all blind? Look at her! Does that look like a woman to you? Why would I even want to touch her?"

The bus went quiet for a split second. People instinctively looked closer at the girls face.

Behind the smeared makeup, her skin was thick and coarse, and her shoulders were broader than the older woman standing next to her.

Her face flushed a deep, angry crimson.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Her voice pitched into a screech that nearly split my eardrums. "Just because I'm on the heavier side, I'm not a woman? First you grope me, and now you insult me? You absolute bastard!"

Before the last word even left her mouth, she lunged at me.

Terrified, I ducked quickly, slipping behind an elderly man standing nearby.

Smack!

A loud, wet slap echoed through the bus, landing squarely on the old man's cheek.

He let out a sharp cry of pain. His reading glasses flew off, clattering onto the floor as he stumbled backward.

"My tooth! Oh, my tooth!" The old man collapsed onto the floor, clutching his jaw and groaning in agony.

The girl froze, quickly pulling her hand back. She knelt down in a panic to help him. "Sir! Oh my god, I am so sorry! I didn't mean to hit you! Are you okay? Let me help you up."

Still shaking from the adrenaline, I peeked out from behind the seat. "You all saw that, right? She's the one who threw the punch! That has nothing to do with me!"

"Bullshit!"

She stood back up, tears streaming down her face again. "If you hadn't coward out and hid behind him, would I have hit him? Everyone, look at this guy! He gropes me, insults me, gets an innocent old man hurt, and now he's trying to wash his hands of the whole thing! Is he even human?"

Her words reignited the crowd's anger like gasoline on an open flame.

"You're full of crap!" I snapped, my head pounding with frustration. "You're not even a wo"

"Shut your mouth!"

The bus driver, who had been silent until now, slammed on the brakes and glared at me through the rearview mirror, his eyes cold.

"You assaulted the girl, the evidence is clear, and you're still trying to lie your way out of it? I'm not stopping at the next station. I'm taking this bus straight to the local precinct! Let the cops deal with you!"

"Good!"

"Thank you, driver!"

"Send the creep to jail!"

The passengers erupted in cheers, punctuated by more curses directed at me.

I stood there, utterly speechless, a heavy lump of frustration settling in my chest.

Today was New Year's Day. I was supposed to be at Comic-Con, dressed up as my favorite male character. The button-up shirt, the cargo pants, and the short, styled wig were all carefully chosen to bring him to life.

But under all of this, I was undeniably, biologically, a girl.

"Sir, wait," the college girl said softly, wiping away tears that weren't actually there. "Thank you for standing up for me, but maybe we shouldn't go to the police? I just wanted an apology. If he gets a criminal record, I'm terrified he'll hunt me down and retaliate."

She sounded incredibly fragile and sweet, but I caught the quick, calculating look she shot me.

I wanted to scream in sheer frustration.

If I hadn't seen her on the platform before we boarded, frantically stuffing two heavy silicone inserts down her dress and gluing on thick, crooked false eyelashes in the shadow of the station, I probably would have believed her Oscar-worthy performance too.

"Hold on," I interrupted, raising my voice. "You keep claiming I groped you. But where's the proof? This bus is packed, yet did anyone actually see my hands on you? Or does a simple accusation make me guilty?"

The question made a few passengers pause.

It was true. No one else had actually stepped forward to say they saw me touch her.

Seeing the shift in the room, the girl's tears flowed even faster.

"How can you keep lying like this?" She clutched her skirt tightly. "It was you! The moment you got on, you squeezed in right behind me. You started by rubbing my back, and then you reached lower. The bus was crowded, and the more I tried to pull away, the closer you pressed, until I finally screamed!"

"That's enough!"

The older woman in the winter coat stood up, her face flushed with rage. "You shameless pig! You do something that disgusting, and then you force this poor girl to relive it in front of everyone? Have you no shame?"

Her outburst rallied the crowd once more.

"Scumbag!"

"Degenerate!"

"Driver, step on it! Don't let this trash slip away!"

The girl collapsed back into the older woman's arms, sobbing so hard she looked like she might faint.

The anger inside me finally boiled over.

"Where is the proof?" I shouted, my voice cutting through the noise. "Which hand did I use? Left or right? How long did I touch you? Aside from your words, who can back you up? This bus has security cameras. When we get to the police, I'm demanding they pull the footage! We'll see who's lying then!"

"You're still denying it!"

She looked around wildly, as if driven to the brink of despair. "Fine! You want me dead? I'll show you!"

Without warning, she bolted toward the closed doors of the moving bus, looking as if she was actually going to throw herself out.

"Oh my god! Stop her!"

"Grab her!"

The bus fell into complete chaos. Several passengers rushed forward, grabbing her arms and pulling her back from the doors.

The older woman wrapped her arms around the girl, her voice trembling. "Sweetheart, don't do this! A piece of trash like him isn't worth your life! He's the criminal, not you! Don't do anything foolish!"

This dramatic display wiped out any remaining doubts the passengers had. A wave of collective fury directed itself entirely at me.

"Look at what you've done!"

"You monster!"

"This is basically attempted rape!"

"Do you have to kill her to be satisfied?"

"Driver, drive faster! Get him locked up!"

The insults rained down on me. The girl was led to a seat, her shoulders still shaking with heavy, dramatic sobs.

I didn't understand why she was so intent on destroying me. But if she was going to drag me down, I wasn't going to make it easy for her.

I took a deep breath, staring directly at her tear-streaked face.

"You keep saying I assaulted you. Fine! Let's say I did. But that's assuming you're actually a woman in the first place!"

I stepped closer to her, ignoring the cheap foundation and smeared mascara running down her face.

"Are you absolutely sure you're a woman?"

The entire bus fell dead silent. Everyone's gaze bounced back and forth between us, confused by the sudden turn of events.

"What are you saying? Of course I'm a woman! Do you want me to strip naked right here to prove it? How can you be so incredibly cruel?" she shrieked, her voice cracking.

"Oh, my poor girl!"

The older woman held her tighter, glaring at me. "You sick kid! Your heart is black! You should be put away for life!"

I ignored her. My eyes remained locked on the pale, sweating face of the accuser. "There's no need to take off any clothes. It's simple. Just take off that scarf. Men have an Adam's apple. Let's see yours, and we'll settle this right now."

"You shameless creep!" a young woman with a ponytail yelled, pointing at me.

"Exactly! How is this any different from assaulting her all over again?"

"Can't you see her chest? Are you blind?"

"Her chest?"

My eyes drifted down to her front. The two massive curves were sitting unevenly, one significantly higher than the other. It was a bizarre, unnatural shape, but the crowd was too blinded by anger to notice.

Seeing that she was clutching the scarf tightly and refusing to move, I took a step forward and reached out.

Before my hand could get close, she grabbed her own collar and ripped it open. The buttons flew off, exposing a pale, ample chest to the open air.

A few sharp gasps echoed through the bus, and some of the men instinctively looked away.

"Fine! You wanted to look? Look!"

Her voice shook, and huge tears rolled down her cheeks. "See for yourself! I am a girl! I am not a man! Stop making up excuses, you disgusting pig!"

The sight of her seemingly humiliated and vulnerable pushed the crowd's anger past the boiling point.

"Worse than a beast!"

"Sue him, sweetie! We'll all stand up for you in court!"

"Call the police now! Let him rot in jail!"

The passengers were practically foaming at the mouth, looking at me as if I were a hardened criminal. I stared at the pale skin exposed by the ripped fabric. Up close, the edge of the silicone prosthetic was visible.

"Still looking?"

The older woman stepped between us, raising her hand and swinging it down hard.

Slap!

A stinging heat bloomed across my cheek.

"You animal! Where are you looking?" Her hands shook with rage, her finger nearly poking my eye out. "People like you make me sick! You're going straight to hell! Just wait, the police are almost here. Let's see how tough you are then!"

The sharp pain on my face cleared away any remaining patience I had left. I pushed her hand aside. "Get out of the way! You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Help!"

Seeing me push forward, the girl let out a terrifying scream. "He's going to kill me! He's trying to choke me!"

In an instant, half a dozen hands grabbed me from every direction. Before I could even register who was touching me, I was slammed face-first onto the cold, grimy floor of the bus.

"Hold him down! Don't let him move!"

"Unbelievable! He's still trying to fight!"

"Don't worry, honey! We've got him!"

My arms were pinned painfully behind my back, and a heavy knee pressed into my spine, making it hard to breathe.

I struggled desperately. "Let me go! Let me go, you idiots!"

"Don't listen to him! Keep him down!"

The girl's trembling voice rose above the din. "His eyes... they were so scary. He really wanted to kill me!"

"Hear that? Shut up and stay down!"

"Don't even try to move!"

More people pressed in, forming a human wall to protect the "victim."

"You're safe now, sweetheart. He won't touch a hair on your head."

"We've got you covered."

Lying face-down on the floor, I could only see the legs of the passengers surrounding her. The older woman and a few others were fussing over her, offering water and whispering comfort.

The fury inside me burned hotter than ever.

"Let me up!" I yelled, straining my neck, the muscles in my throat tight with exertion.

"Still talking? Quiet!" The hand on the back of my neck shoved my face harder against the floor, sending a flash of pain through my jaw.

Just then, the wail of a siren grew louder in the distance.

"The police are here!"

"The driver must have called them!"

"Thank god! Put this trash where he belongs!"

The bus finally pulled over and came to a halt.

"What's going on here? Who called?" a firm voice called out as the doors hissed open.

"Officer! Over here! We called!" The older woman's voice was tight with excitement. "You have to arrest this pervert! He assaulted this poor girl, and when we stopped him, he tried to fight us and choke her!"

"Yes! We all saw it!"

"The evidence is right here!"

A flood of accusations washed over the officers as they stepped on board.

The police pulled me up off the floor. I stumbled, barely finding my footing. Two younger officers flanked me immediately, their hands resting near their belts, their eyes full of suspicion.

The lead officer, a seasoned man with a stern face, looked around the chaotic bus before his gaze settled on the weeping, disheveled victim.

He gestured for the crowd to quiet down, then turned to the girl. "Miss, are you saying this person assaulted you?"

"Yes," she sobbed, her shoulders shaking. "He groped me the moment I got on the bus, and when I called him out, he tried to attack me." She shrank back behind the older woman, revealing several red scratches on her collarbone.

My eyes narrowed.

Those marks weren't there before. She must have scratched herself during the struggle.

"Look, Officer! There's the proof!" the older woman yelled. "He did that to her! If we hadn't stepped in, who knows what he would have done!"

The lead officer's face darkened. He stepped closer to the girl, his tone softening. "Don't worry. Tell me exactly what happened. Are those scratches from him?"

Through her tears, she spun a vivid, terrifying tale of being followed, groped, and then assaulted when she tried to defend herself. The surrounding passengers chimed in, eager to confirm every detail as eye-witnesses.

The officer listened, gesturing for his partner to take notes, before turning his attention to me. His eyes were cold, filled with deep distrust.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked.

I licked my dry, split lip, forced a calm smile, and held out my hands.

"Officer, I confess. I'm the one who groped this girl."