It was 11pm When she Called

One night from one story.

It was 11pm when she called.

“Hey, it’s me. Would you be able to come pick me up?” Her voice is faint and shaking.

 “Of course.” I reply, grabbing my things as quick as I can.

I run to the car, relieved for her to have called. While driving that horrible feeling returns. What do I do? No one teaches you how to handle tough situations.

She lifts her fragile bony frame into the car. So far from the curves that she used to possess.

“What time is it? What day is it?” she asks in a daze.

Her body trembles as I answer in shock.

It is impossible not to think how many men there’s been this week. What have they done to her?

My beautiful friend has become so broken.

I think back to a couple of nights prior to when she called crying, “I can’t do it anymore.”

I waited around the street that possess’ those flashing lights and that red neon sign that seems to forever say OPEN. But she was nowhere to be seen.

But tonight she is here.

She doesn’t look like her anymore. A body that’s so unbelievably thin caked with make-up that cannot cover the pain. Eyes practically falling out of her face, like they are constantly in shock.

I hate myself for the thought that she reminds me of an old lady who’s had too much plastic surgery. Possessing a face that is not her own. Like a scary mask, not knowing who or what is behind it.

But she is still mine and she here with me now. All I can do is reach across and hold her hand, tight.

The way we did when we were children, scared of the darkness that night brings.

 

I cut up a plum into tiny, bite sized cubes and pour a cool glass of water.

She’s burning up and I don’t know what to do.

I will never know exactly what combination of drugs she has overloaded on tonight. Or the effects that the concoctions she has consumed over the last week, month, year, are having on her body right now.

“Do you want some food?”

Nothing.

She sits and she cries. Endlessly clawing at her skin, unable to express or deal with all the emotions that are flowing through her at this very moment. I scramble to get a cloth to run under cold water.

Place it on her forehead, the back of her neck.

Trying to make her feel better.

It takes less than a minute for the cloth to take on her body heat, virtually becoming useless.

I raise the glass from the table to her mouth and she sips.

I pick up the miniature cube and she eats.

She will eat when fed, but refuses to feed herself. I continue on slowly, careful not too rush, careful not to force her.

The crying never stops though.

 

She goes outside to light a cigarette. As I follow her out I am unsure of what is to come or whether I will be able to say the right thing.

She sits, she puffs, she cries.

Mumbling over and over, “What am I going to do? What am I going to do?”

“You don’t have to go back.” I reassure, knowing what the answer will be. No words, just a slowly shaking head.

“You can stay here with me. Everything will be ok.”

“Can you call me a taxi?”

  “No!” I argue, trying to fight back the tears. Be strong I tell myself, crying isn’t going to fix this. Think quickly, find something to say that will make it all better.

“Don’t cry. Just call the taxi.”

It goes on like this. Round and round.

Stay. No. Stay. No.

She can walk back there in ten minutes but she doesn’t.

I know she doesn’t really want to go back but she is getting angry and if I make her to angry she will refuse to trust me. I will become an outsider to the one person who has been by my side my whole life. I don’t know what to do. What to say anymore? What is the right choice to make in this situation?

It isn’t until six months later that the thought pops into my head. Why is there no one here helping me though this? Helping us? Where the f**k is the rest of this so-called family of ours who we were taught would be the only ones we could truly count on?

The anger of the answer overwhelms me. I knew exactly where they were. Comfortably at home asleep or drinking their wine. Living under the illusion that everything always has been and always will be fine. Pushing their problems under an ever-growing rug. Ignorantly ignoring the scary truths that they know exist but are not directly in their day-today lives.

 

In the end I drove her back. What was he point in her walking? She would burn more energy than she had to spare. The same went for a taxi fare.

As she got out of the car I begged one last time for her to stay with me.

“Please don’t go back” tears unstoppably gushing down my face now.

 

I drove home alone in a haze of uncertainty surrounding what to do and what will come next.

 

When I get back into the house I see the half empty glass of water and half eaten plum. Half a measly plum. That was it. That was all I could manage to get her to eat. Half a glass of water was practically useless to her dehydrated, fighting body.

It wasn’t enough, I think to myself as cry on the lounge.

What I do will never be enough.    

  

Author's Note

It is important to me that this piece of writing is perfect, so please critique.
Is it compelling to read on? Does it flow through the whole piece? Is there too much reflection? Any other tips.

Reviews

[Chris]

"and if I make her to angry" - too?

"day-today lives." - day-to-day?

"What was he point in her walking?" - the?

Dealing with a reality - or Memorex? If you're recounting ...its too short to contain the frantic... and not as relateable without a back story. My opinion is all.

[Beccy]

On the plus, plus side, the story is both poignant and compelling. Downside, is that I feel a little refining of punctuation and a more coherent sentence construction would make it even more so.

For example: 'A body that's so unbelievably thin caked with makeup that cannot cover the pain,' perhaps might read better as: 'A body that's so unbelievably thin, a face caked with make up that cannot begin to cover the pain.' Just minor changes in a way, but such changes will make all the difference.

Beccy.

[Rachel]

Thanks Beccy, very helpful :)

[Chadvonswan]

I like this
because I can see the way
pain flows out of you
and
onto the paper
as ink,
and this is a beautiful example
of
how writers
do that
how we
bleed out pain
and our
heavy
concentrated emotions
onto
the paper
keep those words
flowing,
keep the pain out..

[vaishnavi]

beautifully expressed emotions and well depicted
its a good to read

[Chiradeep Patra]

Its a sad end to a friend's 'Try to Help' action which is beautifully narrated.

[Wolfwind]

As I read this, I think the first thing that stands out, is that we are dealing with a powerful and riviting moment for the narrator. The second thing that stands out is that it's unclear within the wording as to the gender of the friend. Is this a male looking at what's going on? Or a female? The last two lines hint that it might be female.
Overall I like how the scene played out. Yet, the last paragraph really left me wondering just what the friend's character is trying to bring across. While it's evident the person feel's helpless... The words don't bring across the powerful emotions that might be attached to the scene and what the character is going through. Is it a helpless...sad... or is it a helpless...angry? Is the character going to feel like slamming their fist on the table next to the half of plum and glass while tearfully choking out, "Damit!" or is the character the type to look at the glass and fall to their knees sobbing.
I think the scene really hinges on this friends emotions and how their actions bring those emotions across. That being said, in my opinion, a little more depth to the friend and let us know through the friends thoughts, more about them.

Keep up the good ink!
Wolfwind

[zainul]

It sounds like real.
It captivated me and compelled me to read in a single breath.
Keep up the good work.

[Woody]

a good solid story written with feeling. the ingredients that make one wants to read on are there: friendship, empathy, understanding and, yes, tenderness. my only remark is regarding the tense as other reviews have mentioned.
a follow up would be good.
well done. a pleasant read.

[Fire Mage Andrea]

Definitely add more. It makes compelling reading and you feel for the characters

[SLD Bailey]

What struck me about this piece was the empathy that the protagonist had for her friend; no judgement, just love and support, which is apparently in stark contrast to how she has been treated by others (including family). Something you must take care with is past and present tense; it can be difficult, but if it helps write two versions of it, one with past and one with present. It will help you to keep it consistent. Also, the word "scary" jarred, and seemed inadequate. Perhaps use a substitute word which has a bit more clout. Other than that, a strong piece. I would definitely read on.

[Rachel]

Thanks for the review. I wasn't sure about the word scary, so I think I will be removing it in my second draft now.