Sober Sundays
Sober Sundays
Don't Go Back
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Don't Go Back

#Prompt94

I can tell when a stranger wants to talk. Their body shifts ever so slightly, their hands or feet subconsciously tapping away. Their head and eyes debate for the best way to lean into a conversation you see coming a mile away. The problem is every time this stranger tries to talk she changes her mind and abandons the drink she ordered for courage.

I let her repeat this behaviour about four times. The 5th time she comes to the bar. Again I say, what are you having? She gives the same order. When I serve it up this time, I tell her, “I don’t mind the drink donations you have been making but you should at least have a sip.” She looks up at me. Her face is covered in too much make-up, even more than the last time she was here. I wait for her to speak and she says nothing.

This time I serve her drink with a napkin and pen. “Maybe you want to write it down if you can’t say it.” Two minutes later I return to her table and she’s gone, on the napkin written in all caps is, “GIVE ME SHELTER".

I notice there’s a drop of blood, from a nosebleed maybe or from the cuts I saw on her fingers. I take the napkin to a room inside the bar. “No” The operator says as I walk in. She sits facing the monitor showing parts of the bar. The wall behind her has two numbers, one for the women we actually help, and the other for the women who need our help. The latter is two times bigger, sometimes it feels like three. I walk over and add to it.

“She needs to say the words with her mouth. That’s how we know they are ready to fight back.” She says the last part with a lot of regret. “She ‘s not there yet, hopefully he doesn’t kill her before she finds courage.”

I know she’s right, every woman we tried to save too soon goes back. we don’t have enough resources for that.

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Sober Sundays
Sober Sundays
Every Sunday, a new poem or story by Obii
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Obii Ifejika