Fictional Story

Taylor Portanova

POS Block A

December 13, 2012

Fiction Story

"Little Lady" by Ed Sheeran Ft. Mikill Pane

           

            As I looked into the waiting room I noticed a very familiar face, Amanda her name was, she had been coming to my clinic for a few months now. She wasn’t in very often, but when she did come, I recognized her. About thirteen years old she stood about five feet tall with long, dark, wavy hair, her face weathered due to the use of recreational drugs. When she comes in she is very quiet, a get-in-and-get-out kind of personality. However this time she was in for a visit, it was nothing minor. I decided to look into her records. From that I understood she no longer lives with her parents, she stays with her Uncle here in London. As she hopped up on to the crinkly paper covering the examination table, I noticed her jaw looked bruised and distorted, like she had been beaten. I begged her to talk to me, all she told me was she had been hit by a door. Of course I was not naïve as she had thought, I knew that wasn’t that the case, however she was being very stubborn. I called the police to let them know that I was concerned for her safety. I talked to her about having a meeting with someone to help her, she refused, but that didn’t stop me I kept talking, I was concerned for her safety of course. I was astonished and ecstatic that she had finally agreed to let me take her to talk to the detective. As we sat there she was quiet at first, the detective assured her that if she told him what was going on he would promise she would never get hurt again, she liked that. She explained that her Uncle was her “pimp” and she had to be a prostitute for him to make him money. She admitted that she had been addicted to heroin and she didn’t like where her life was going, she prayed for the brutal nightmare to end every night. The officer told her he had a safe place to stay in the meantime of everything being settled, she denied. I was confused as to why, but I didn’t want to ask for too much since she had already done a lot by at least talking to the detective. She gathered her purse and slipped the card in the front pocket. I went home and sat on my couch, later than I would normally arrive home of course, as I sipped my cup of tea I told my husband how proud I was of myself for helping an innocent girl out of a bad situation today. It was one of my most honorable accomplishments, I went to sleep happy and pleased with the work I had done tonight.

            The next morning I woke up and slid in my slippers to walk down the driveway to fetch the morning newspaper. On the front page I read “13 Year Old Girl Brutally Murdered”, slowly but surely my eyes wandered down the page to see Amanda’s disfigured jaw plastered on the front page of the London Daily. It stated “She was found lying on the street with a knife in her throat a mile away from the police station”. Amanda’s Uncle had found out where she was and killed her on her way home. All the good I thought I did, just caused the death of an innocent young girl.