The Guard

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His breath was tracing my neck and it wasn't pleasant. He smelt like booze and musky yeast.  His grip tightened as I struggled in his grasp.
I could make out he was in some form of uniform with a stupid looking hat on his head. A guard? Soldier?
I managed to splutter some pathetic jumbled sentence "wwho ---- arreee you?" My stomach churned and I could barely breathe "pleasepplease get off of me!"  He had evil dark eyes and looked at me like I was a piece of meat.
"Do you think you should be speaking to me in that tone of voice little girl? When I could easily end your life right here?" His eyes gleamed at the thought of doing nasty things to me yet for some reason I thought it a good idea to act smart when my life was in his hands, his grip loosened and I managed to speak properly. "Your nothing but a drunk old man who clearly objectifies women with the language your using. I'm not a little girl. I'm a fashion designer with a good degree and many qualifications. Far more than you." I snarled at him and gave him a look of disgust, I wanted to spit in his face and kick his area so hard but I couldn't quite manage it.
He let go of me with such force threw his head back in laughter like what I said was a complete joke. "What are you talking about you stupid girl? GIRLS don't have jobs or 'qualifications,' the only thing they are qualified to do is sit at home and wait for their husbands to get home so they can feed them and have a good shag. Your nothing more than that with your poncy voice acting like the queen. Never in my life have I heard a women speak down to a man and my god you will pay."

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