Leila

• Kimberley Carter, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2010

Her tears fell onto her wounded knees, purifying the blood, which trickled down her dark skin and splattered in the mud. The village head gave her one last look of hatred before turning on his heels and kicking a cloud of dust into her eyes. She lay, still. The sharp, metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Far off, she could smell an evening meal being prepared; some where she would never be allowed.
***
She sat on the stool, waiting for her shot. Every month, everyone in the ‘Hell House’ would receive a shot, hoping it would cure them. No-one knew what caused the spread of the virus, according to the posters with American words and pink-skinned people; it was called HIV/AIDS.

The ‘Hell House’ stood away from the rest of the desert village-rejected. Darkness and dread filled its every room, where many hopeless people lay, infected with the virus, awaiting death’s visit. The worst of the victims were locked away, moaning and wailing loudly, others just silent.
***
After the midday meal, everyone stayed indoors, hiding from the burning sun. Leila looked out across the desert, sprayed with sun. Far off into the distance she spotted a lone figure.
‘It must be a mirage,’ she told herself. No one had ever come to her village, afraid of catching the virus. She lay on her bed, watching the spinning of the fan, passing the hours slowly by.
***
The ‘American’ looked at Leila, speaking to her in a strange accent with broken Hindi.
‘Do you like it here?’ he asked.

I don’t understand. I nod my head.

‘Would you like me to take you to a better place? A place where I can help you,’ he continues patiently.

I am not sure what he means. I shake my head.
He runs a hand through his straw coloured hair. He hands me a card, full of American words which I cannot read, in the centre is a red ribbon. And then he is gone.
I watch as he disappears into the distance, a tiny dot on the horizon.
***
It is so late at night it is almost morning and I am awake.
There is a loud banging downstairs and someone shouts ‘Police!’ People around me begin panicking, running in all directions.
A voice with an American accent shouts out, ‘I am here for a young girl!’
I know this voice. It is my American.
I watch as the last of the people disappear into the hole in the wall.
There is more shouting from downstairs. One of the girls grabs my hand and pulls me towards the door.
But then something inside me breaks open and I pull away and run down stairs.
I see the village head, his face purple with rage, he lunges towards me, but the police hold him back. Then I see other Indian men, my American is with them.
‘My name is Leila,’ I say.
‘I am from India’
‘I am twelve years old.’


Author: Kimberley Carter
Age: 14
Address: Canberra Girls Grammar Boarding School
Grade Level: 9
School: Canberra Girls Grammar School