Myrtle reimagined

 *Due to lots of hate towards Myrtle in class I have decided to write a short story told in the eyes of Myrtle about when she met Tom on the train car (some parts are redone and reimagined)

The soft hum of the engine of the train comforted Myrtle. She was travelling alone, something most women were apprehensive to do, but she wasn't scared. Quite the opposite in fact, she was going to visit Catherine, her sister, and was quite excited for the fun night of cheap booze and conversation ahead of her.  She looked outside the train car. The greenery sped past her in a blur; she could almost make out the faint image of New York in the distance. Lulled by the soft hum of the engine, Myrtle could feel herself drifting in and out of sleep when suddenly out of the corner of her eye she spotted a man staring at her intensely. He was tall or at least seemed, so it was impossible to tell with him sitting down. He had dark brown hair that was slicked back with a pomade of some sorts.  He seemed fit or at least like he had once been an athlete but still somehow retained some of that vitality and strength. But the thing that struck Myrtle most of all were his eyes. She has never seen someone with such piercing blue eyes before. His eyes were a sea of deep blues and they reminded Myrtle of a painting she had seen in the Newspaper once. She sat up staring back for a second before realizing her faux pas and looking up and pretending to read an advertisement stuck to the ceiling. She took a peek out of the corner of her eye and realized he was still staring. Pretending to grab something from her bag, myrtle tried to ignore him a task that felt impossible with the way she could feel his eyes burning into her. She looked back at him again, just to check, and realized why exactly he was staring at her. His eyes weren't fixed on Myrtle's face rather they surveyed her body in a way that felt ravenous and unsettling. Any previous feelings of attraction that she had felt now gave way to unease and repulsion. Is my outfit too vulgar? She wondered in disgust not at him but herself and her body. But when she looked at her clothes, they seemed normal enough. She looked back at him once more realizing his stare had come to rest not at her face but rather another part of her body. Feeling sickened by the thought of being lusted over, she turned away from him in her seat, trying to hide her body with her bag and newspaper. Suddenly she heard the announcement 

"We are approaching our 5th station Manhattan" 

  Instinctively Myrtle got up, almost in sync with the man. She walked to the end of the train car, stealing glances behind her to see if he was following. Sure, enough the man followed her at a respectful distance all until they got to the end where he pressed against her arm with his silk white shirtfront. As Myrtle tried to maneuver around him her eyes caught notice of the silk. It looked rather expensive and with the dress pants and shoes he was wearing Myrtle started to get an idea of what kind of man he might be. Maybe a Banker, broker or lucky gambler but most importantly he looked rich. His eyes bore into Myrtle once more and she could feel that unsettling feeling creep back in. She turned her back to the man and could now directly see his reflection in the glass on the train door. She sneakily stared at the reflection taking note of the luxurious watch and ring he was wearing. He looked wealthy but it was really his confidence and demeanor that made Myrtle believe he was. Wealthy men always seemed to have a relaxation about them that wasn’t typical of the average working New Yorker. Myrtle had wished to be wealthy once. When she was young and naive. But life had quickly brought her crashing down to earth. She turned around looking up into his face. Surprised he stared back into her eyes. Myrtle began to feel a flicker of excitement looking at him. Sure he was lustful and creepy but he was paying attention to her and only her. Staring at him made Myrtle realize that perhaps he could be an advantage for her, and it especially didn't hurt that he was giving her more attention than her husband had in the past 5 years.  Myrtle wasn't used to attention like this, as a girl she would often get picked on for being on the larger side and for most of her adult life she was taught to settle because she "wouldn't get much better" as her mother always said. That was what drove her to marry George Wilson a flat broke car mechanic who had as much energy within him as a soggy biscuit. Myrtle had always wanted more for herself a life of luxury, wealth and attention and when she looked at this lustful, rich, handsome man she saw a way to get it. In fact, it was the ONLY way for her to get it. She was a woman of the 20th century she had no rights to autonomy and certainly no ability to work at a fulfilling job. Perhaps if Myrtle satisfied this Man, he could provide her with everything she dreamed of. As myrtle thought more and more of how she could exploit this man that likely only saw her for her body her digust and unease turned into resolve. "You can't live forever; you can't live forever" she reminded herself. Wasn't it better that she enjoyed her precious life rather than toil away in the Valley of ashes with her dull, dumb husband? As Myrtle turned to look at his face she realized exactly what she was going to do and brushed off any guilt she could've felt for her actions.  

"You're a beautiful girl" he said looking anywhere but her face

"Thank you" 

"Now why is such a beautiful girl spending all her time alone, why don't you come with me"

"I'm not sure if I can, I have to go meet my sister"

"Oh, I'm sure you can spare some time for me"

"Where do you want to go"?

"How about dinner"

"Well, alright"