Victim

• Rhiannon Bowden, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2009

She awakens, a horrible wave of nausea hits as she remembers the sickening bulge growing rapidly within. Her head throbs, having partaken of cheap gin. She stumbles toward the bathroom and pauses before looking in the mirror. She looks intently. Her face is painted a thick white and her cheeks with patches of splotchy pink from fallen tears. She dips to splash her face with water before lifting to glance at the daunting picture once more. She asks herself, “Where did I go wrong?”

Through the torturous pain seeping through her body, she remembers that night. Along the deadly laneway, she could see a man ahead, a shadow at that point. He walked towards her, his pace quickening with each step until he had seized her arms. He slammed her back against the wall and gagged her mouth to muffle the screams. There was nothing she could do but stand there as he selfishly stole the only precious thing she had left.

The afternoon’s peak hour traffic jolted her back to reality. Through the car window, Livia scanned the streets of Redfern. Girls, not unlike herself, were looking hopelessly in search of the remaining pieces that may perhaps salvage their lives. She paid the driver and stepped out onto the path. She walked down the dark and dreary laneway and could see a girl, perhaps seventeen being beaten by an older man. She was choking, struggling for just a breath of air. His hand was around her throat, keeping her head pinned against the wall Blood was trickling from her left temple, a legacy of repeated thrashings. Intent on stopping the horror, Livia attempted to thrust herself towards the man. Her feet stuck to the ground, eyes fixed on the helpless girl as her innocence was brutally stolen, just as hers had been.

Stricken with horror, Livia walked onwards. A white jar came into view; instantly aware of its contents, she picked it up and slid it into her pocket. She walked onwards until she reached her home and stepped inside. She knelt on the cold, hard floor of the one room flat and pulled the jar out of her pocket. For some time memories engulfed her.

The moment Livia stepped into this world; her life had involved tearing up many drafts. No matter how hard she tried, she could not edit the page to make it easier. She had never had a father in her life; her mother had passed away when she was ten. She had built her own life on nothing. How could she bring a child into this world of suffering?

Her fingers trembled as they opened the jar and tipped the pills into her hand. Without a second thought, she put them in her mouth and swallowed.

A few hours later she collapsed, unconscious and never to awaken.

Livia, the victim of a troubled society, resorted to death as an escape from the cruel reality of life. Is this the future for all young girls?