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Two Women

Hila

She sat in the half-empty room, the bottle of rum before her, drained with just a few drops remaining.

Running a hand through her short black hair, she swore as the tears welled up in her eyes. Drink always made her weak, causing the memories she had stifled with a strong hand, to rise to the surface and plague her.

She sniffled and stood up, swaying slightly as she made her way to the cupboard and took out another bottle. Her secret stash, to be used in emergencies, she had told herself, lips twisting contemptuously. Who was she kidding anyway?

With unsteady hands, Hila poured herself another large drink.

Alcohol was supposed to make you forget things, wasn’t it? Then why did she remember everything with such clarity when she had only been trying to forget those terrible incidents?

Staggering to her feet again, she swore loudly as she looked around the near-bare room, void of anything that could trace her. This was what her life had become; that of a ghost, a shadow, living out
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