The Midnight Hand

I was assigned to share a first-class compartment with three men on the train.

That night, I curled up under the blankets, too afraid to take off my clothes.

Then, suddenly, I felt the mattress dip—someone had sat down on my bed!

Before I could react, a hand slipped under the covers and crept up my leg...

I froze in terror.

The dead of night, utterly silent.

It should have been time to sleep, but I lay wide-eyed beneath the sheets, holding my breath.

In the dim darkness of the train compartment, less than two meters from my bunk, three pairs of eyes watched me from the shadows.

Three lecherous men.

I had been placed in the same compartment as them.

Their gazes gleamed with something unreadable, sending chills down my spine as the train wheels clattered against the tracks.

Regret gnawed at me. If I had known, I would never have boarded this train...

My name is Evelyn Chamberlain, a financial product sales trainer at a bank.

That evening, on my way home from work, I received a sudden assignment from my boss.

I was to travel to the neighboring state to train a group of new hires.

I rushed home, packed my things, and headed to the train station.

An hour ago, I boarded the train and entered my assigned compartment.

But when I reached the door, I scanned the interior—three rough-looking men sat inside.

They wore only undershirts, cross-legged on their bunks, chatting.

When they saw a woman step in, they paused, then exchanged knowing smirks.

I forced a stiff smile and entered.

The train wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow morning, and I had an important meeting at 9:00 AM. I needed sleep.

I turned off the light.

Settling onto my bunk, I sat down.

The man in the upper bunk chuckled and shut the compartment door.

Pale moonlight seeped through the window, casting a dim glow.

My heart pounded erratically. I was scared.

Women have instincts. I could feel it.

The men were staring at me—starting at my feet, trailing up to my neck, then scrutinizing my face before nodding in approval.

Especially the oldest one, his hair half-gray, skin sagging with age.

In the faint light, I noticed his hands fidgeting beneath his blankets, though I couldn’t tell what he was doing.

I wanted to leave, but work kept me rooted.

If I didn’t rest, I wouldn’t be sharp enough for tomorrow’s training.

Too afraid to undress, I burrowed under the covers, shutting out the compartment.

At first, there was only silence.

The rhythmic clatter of the train lulled me toward sleep.

But my blazer clung tightly, constricting my chest, making it hard to breathe.

I needed it wrinkle-free for the meeting tomorrow.

I decided to take it off.

Lifting a corner of the blanket, I stole a glance downward.

The man on the opposite upper bunk seemed asleep, eyes shut.

The one below had his face hidden under the covers.

As for the bunk beneath me—I listened carefully.

No movement.

Relieved, I exhaled.

Soon, rustling sounds came from under my blanket as I struggled to wriggle out of my blazer and slacks.