The Story of Many

Geneva hastened along the fragmented, concrete path that connected her humble dwelling to the outside world. Though riddled with puddles and cracks that snapped toes, she had memorized every step. Her movements were automatic. She always found it humorous how the craters resembled her own life; the empty spaces and creases were very much like the voids she had been trying to fill ever since she was a child. Yesterday was her last "late warning," so she snapped out of it and hurriedly made her way to catch the early morning bus. On both sides, columns of dingy, rusty galvanize served as fences. "What could they even protect?" thought Geneva, and that gave her a chuckle. Her friend Sharon was already leaning over her veranda to wait for Geneva for the latest neighbourhood gossip. Lord, how could she escape her?

"Not today, Sharon, girl I'll miss my bus!" hailed Geneva as politely as she could. Sharon had already given up, had accepted she would never make it out but not Geneva......... certainly there was a better life out there. As fate would have it, she missed the bus. Bursting already with sweat and dreading her supervisor's frowns and scowls, Geneva shrank. A van pulled up, but she did not recognize the driver. He stopped and beckoned her to get in, and seeing as she could not risk getting fired, Geneva yielded. Her supervisor's threats loomed, "One thing, Geneva, if you late again, I will fire you eh." The usual, "how are you?" and "where are you heading?" was the only sparked conversation.....nothing out of ear to send the red flags flapping around in her already tension- filled mind.

Geneva was just about to indicate to the driver to drop her off right next to the terminal when suddenly he turned right. "I know a faster route," he said, as calmly as the morning breeze. Something made her trust him. Then, in a split second, he entered along a road she had never seen before and all of a sudden, he was on top of her. There was no time and no room for her to cogitate. Her screams were muffled by his large, coarse hand and no amount of fighting was going to save her. Then, in that moment, the only thought she could muster was that "my life is over." He plundered as if he'd entered the deepest hole, and he looted every single jewel that she had left inside of her. Everything hurt. She was mortified. Silent screams permeated the universe in a ghostly way, and unholy tears raced down the very cheeks that she would have used to help her smile to the guests at work today. He kept her trapped and forced against the car seat and even when he was done, she could not move. He smiled like a wolf just after devouring a meal. "Get out," he said, but Geneva was so strayed that she could not hear or heed the instruction.................. eventually he violently shoved her out.

Sore and incredulous, Geneva walked onward in shock. Guided by familiar building signs in the distance, she advanced. She fixed her hair and buttoned her shirt and smoothed the clothing about her. She shuddered and gasped, looking back in fear and asking the universe why it chose her. Now, who would believe her? A ghetto girl born of shame, and a pretty face that bears no name. How would she ever recover from this? Geneva rode the bus back home and stepped right back unto the shattered concrete path. She stumbled and fell in a puddle, hands bruising against the rough bits of stone. Out of her mind, she could no longer recount her steps, and the creases scraped the skin of her feet, twisting her ankles, movements haphazard. Geneva walked into the column of galvanize twice, scraping her elbows, totally absent minded. She did not even see Sharon this time, although Sharon was right there leaning over.

With the last bit of strength she could muster, Geneva stepped into her dilapidated shack. The makeshift bed was waiting and she sunk to the wooden floor. There she curled up, and misery engulfed her...........Geneva bitterly cried herself to sleep. She'd become another story, just like so many.