Bar Girl by David Thompson Page B

once. A brown rat, one of the dozens that came out at night to scavenge for food, ventured too close. Siswan had cut it almost in half and thrown its bloody carcass far out into the waters of the lake. A rat was nothing compared to a scorpion.
    During the days she wandered from one business to the next, looking for work. She discovered a large restaurant that threw out food at the end of the day and she managed to get enough from the big green bins to keep her going.
    As she drove off the dogs that threatened to bite her, she remembered how easy it had been to get food in her village. A short stroll into the fields and you could eat your fill of fresh vegetables and fruit. This wasn’t her village. Nothing grew around here. Just buildings. Concrete buildings.
    Every night she helped the old woman roll up her mats and every night she was rewarded with the loan of one to sleep on.
    Apart from the fact that she couldn’t wash properly, Siswan felt she was doing okay. Alone in the world, with nowhere to go and nothing to do, she struggled on. Her mind was unchanged. It was better than the village. Better than hearing her mother cry.
    It was on the ninth night that her luck changed. She washed, as usual, in the waters of the small lake. She ran her fingers through her hair and, out of sight of the road, washed and changed her clothes as best she could.
    As she rolled out the mat under the branches of the big blossom tree she heard voices coming toward her. Laughter. Shouts. A group of boys came into view as they crossed the small footbridge that led into the park. Siswan rolled up the mat quietly and ducked behind the tree. She didn’t want to be seen alone. Not at night. Not by men.
    The four boys walked the small path that led towards her. She ducked back into the shadow of the tree and they moved past without seeing her. They were loud. Excited. One of them carried a plastic bag. Siswan heard the chink of glass on glass as they walked further away.
    She didn’t stay where she was. When they had drunk their beers they would wander back this way, she thought. She would skirt around them and head over to the far side. She’d be safe there.
    As she walked around the edge of the lake she could hear their shouts and laughter as they consumed the beer. Young boys seeking some fun. That was okay. She would avoid them. She would never understand how men thought fun could only be found in alcohol, but it didn’t matter. As long as she kept out of their way, she’d be all right.
    Finding a spot on the other side of the park was easy. She rolled out her mat under another tree that had branches falling almost to the ground. Inside their canopy it was like a small room. Hardly noticeable from the path or the road, she lay her head down on her small bundle and fell asleep clutching her knife.
    Hardly an hour passed before she was shaken awake. Rough hands were grabbing her shoulders. The smell of whiskey was the first thing she noticed. Still half asleep she thought of Bak. He was there. Waking her up. Touching her. She moved instinctively. The knife moved like a blur in the dark. The blade caught what little light reached under the canopy of branches. A yell. Almost a scream. Then silence. Except for heavy breathing. She pulled herself awake. Into a sitting position. Ready to stand and run.
    ‘You’ll pay for that.’ A voice. Slurred. Old. The smell of whiskey.
    She felt sudden pain in her arm. He had lashed out at her face and she had raised her arm instinctively, in expectation of the blow. She fought to get to her feet. To run.
    Hands grabbed at her. Caught her by the hair. Pulled her down. Another pain, this time in the face. He had hit her. She tasted the blood from inside her nose as it ran down her throat. She was stunned. Shocked by the sudden violence that interrupted her sleep. Couldn’t think. She needed more time but was offered none.
    She lashed out once more with the knife. Missed. Her arm flailed against nothing. It