Portrait of Words # 10

Jeff (A Word in Edgewise POW) has started up this monthly challenge, derived from a previous challenge from R.E.H.'s "Picture Fiction Challenge". Do pop over to Jeff's to read the other entries, you won't be disappointed. You can get the portraits for this month's challenge here.

Jeff says the rules this month are:

In case any of you have wondered why each month the layout of our Portrait of Words challenge changes I thought I'd let you know. In an effort to keep this writing challenge interesting, some months I'll give you categories for the photos such as a "purpose", "backdrop" and so forth, while other times it will be more of a free form challenge. Hopefully, this will keep things from becoming stagnant. As always, you are welcome to offer any suggestions you may have . Leave a note in the comment section or email me.This month we have four photos from which to create a story and I'm asking that you include each photo within some part of your story. Easy peasy right?

Here's my story:

Aimee Farrell sat on the chair in the corner of the room and closed her eyes. She really didn’t want to go through all this but she must.

The story unfolded.

She had been 18, flushed with pride at having passed her exams and was taking a gap year before starting a Languages Degree at Cambridge University. Her plan was to travel round Europe before having to work her socks off at Uni, get a job and hopefully get married and start a family. That was her future, this was now

Her parents were very supportive and had given her the proceeds of an endowment policy they’d taken out on her when she was a baby, which had just matured. £3000 would pay her air fare to Paris and make things easy for her until she found some work, she wanted to work so she could keep some of the three grand for a rainy day.

She was a pretty girl, forever changing the colour of her hair, wearing colourful clothes and never without her Ipod full of the latest music. She would be travelling with her best friend Jackie so her parents weren’t too worried, they were sensible girls. The night before they embarked on their trip their parents took them out for a Chinese meal at their favourite restaurant and joked that it may be the last decent meal either of them would be getting for a while so to help themselves to more spring rolls.

Amidst hugs, kisses and farewells at the airport the two of them gathered up their rucksacks and were eager to board the plane to Paris, their first destination, promising to keep in touch via internet cafes wherever they could and telephone, reversing the charges of course.

Things went well, they found work in cafes and fruit picking so were able to conserve their initial funds. They had a great time seeing different places and meeting wonderful new people, picking up the language of whatever country they were in easily. They arrived in Amsterdam and found cheap accommodation in a bedsit over a sex shop. The girls who plied their trade in the shop below were all friendly and they looked out for the two teenagers from England. They had such fun in Amsterdam riding round on bicycles like everyone else. One time she had got a bright yellow bicycle with a basket on the front in which she carried a pot plant of chrysanthemums and hadn’t wanted to give it back. She vowed to get a bicycle just like it when they eventually got back home, she could see herself riding round Cambridge on it.

All was going well until one night when Jackie had gone out on a date with a Dutch boy she’d met, leaving her alone. She decided to stay in and read and listen to music. “Go and enjoy yourself Jackie, I’ll be fine, see you when you get back and you can tell me all about it” she said.

It was gone midnight, she was sitting looking out of the window listening to her Ipod and watching the people coming and going on the street, she didn’t hear the door open or see the man enter the room. Somehow the girls downstairs hadn’t seen him open the door to the stairs that led to their room, they were usually so watchful. What followed was her worst nightmare. The man was drunk and without any preamble he grabbed her and forced her onto one of the beds. She screamed of course but the streets were lively with tourists and the girls were busy downstairs so no-one heard her. When Jackie returned she found her beaten and bleeding and was in a state of shock. Jackie called for the girls downstairs who got her to the hospital and stayed with her whilst Jackie contacted her parents. Within two days she was back home in her familiar bedroom but now she needed counselling to help her face going back to see the man responsible for the attack in court. He’d been so drunk he’d passed out in the room.

Aimee sighed deeply and said “Well my dear, now you have opened up about it, things will get easier you know. Another few sessions would help you I’m sure. Shall we say the same day and time next month?”

It was difficult listening to other people’s problems but Aimee Farrell was a counsellor and that’s what counsellors do.