The Girl
- Lady Ronit
- 5 days ago
- 3 min read
There was a Girl in the World, born in a very turbulent and degraded city, one of many in Eastern Europe. She didn't have a good father, nor much luck; she saw her crying mother every day. She never knew how to comfort her, but understood everything. The Girl understood too much. Prematurely maturing, like many other girls from Eastern Europe, she passed from hand to hand and consented to exploitation. She was looking for a different father. Before she turned twenty, she had about a hundred, each equally repulsive and cruel. Her first tormentor was her father, and then other aging deviants.
I observed the Girl from my window; she lived in my neighbourhood. She was very pretty, and every day I wondered why she chose this. She was young, in the prime of life. Yet she didn't want to live better. Or maybe she couldn't? Perhaps the only thing her shattered heart longed for was to experience old, familiar violence? Sometimes I saw her running out of the house bruised. Sometimes her father chased her with a knife or a club, and other times she ran alone. Her father chased her with a billiard stick, not a bottle. The Girl lived in a very large house but was very poor. Later, I saw her returning home to her parents bruised. Many times she moved out. She came back every time.
I don't know, who she travelled with, or who she lived with. There was a time, when she seemed happy. It was years ago, in the spring. One time I heard her mother crying again. I didn't really know how to behave, but for a moment I sat next to her. She was hiding in a wicker chair just by our fence. That was the first time we talked, and that was when I found out that the Girl was getting married. Her name was Adalia, like the daughter of Haman. Adalia means in Hebrew bringing poverty or death.
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