One puff. Two puffs. Three. The night was young and so was she. Only 21 but age does not really measures ones maturity. The woman pushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray. It was already midnight and she couldn’t sleep. How could she? For nights she was sleepless. She decided to unhook the receiver and dialed the numbers. She knew she had to tell someone. She couldn’t keep it to herself anymore. Telling someone about her story would probably ease the burden, she thought. It rang. Then came an answer.
Where would I start, she thought. Ah yes. She was 11 then, so young and fresh. Not until one night—the night she never thought she would dread for the rest of her life. She was helpless, she couldn’t do anything but to shut her eyes and think of a place, far away where she and her family are together. But in reality, she had none of her own. Her mother and father are living separate lives. No one really cared. That was what she felt. Living a liberated life was what she learned from her mother. And so be it. She explored. She wandered around and tried new things—things she wasn’t supposed to take.
One. Two. Three puffs. It seemed to be a perfect drug. It made her forget about her past but not for long. Soon she came upon the arms of different men, young and old. She didn’t seem to mind. It wasn’t done for love but as vengeance and a chance to get even. When she was through with her ritual, a vague feeling hit her. It was empty. She was empty. Nothing could fill the void that was inside her.
Whenever she stands in front of a mirror, she stared at her reflection wondering who the person is. It was a woman—a woman with so much pain and angst ready to burst. It sickened her. She felt like throwing up. In the outside though, it wasn’t like that at all. There was no trace of anger or misery. She seemed to be one of the crowds, not showing that deep inside her lies a dark secret. She didn’t fear that her secret was out; for it was her own decision to find someone she can talk about it with. It eased her for a moment after letting out her one-hour confession.
When she hanged the phone, a smile came upon her face. She sought vengeance but it wasn’t substantiated with what she has done in her life. It was ironic but it made her smile. She thought of what her life is now. How does she feel about her life right now? She didn’t know She felt nothing. Watching the moon shining brightly by her window, she lit another stick and just continued with her trance.
(inspired by a true story)