Behari’s Tale

by A. Melchor and N. Kolm

The sun rose earlier than usual, or so Behari was thinking as the first rays touched her face from the small window in her room. She had been lucky last night; no one had required her services despite her spending all the night serving drinks and acting like a proper waitress. She guessed her smiles did seem as empty as they were.

Slowly, she rose from the straw which made up her bed, ruffling her hair and yawning tiredly. She enjoyed the early morning silence, enjoyed being awake early so that she could savor a few minutes of freedom, where no one would shout for her, no one would beat or violate her.

She sat for several minutes, letting the sunlight bathe warm her face. She was not very religious, particularly given her lot in life, but she almost felt the hands of Zuze'en caressing her face, like a mother reassuring her that everything would be all right. She sighed and finally got up. She tied her robes tight and slipped her feet on her sandals, ready for morning chores at the brothel where her parents had committed her to since she was a little girl.

Another longing look was cast out the window before she stepped out of her room, her inner self hardening, raising the shield that made it possible for her to continue with her life, even though it was not even worth calling it life.

"You're up early, Behari." One of the older prostitutes was sitting on the walkway overlooking the building's central garden. She looked like she was seeing the sunrise not because she'd woken early, but because she hadn't gone to sleep yet.

"It's better to rise early. At least at this time of day no one is shouting at me for a few moments of time." she replied sighing faintly. Most of the prostitutes were rather kind, feeling for the little girl who could do absolutely nothing about her destiny and tried to help her get along with life. She was grateful for the help, even if it did little to make her feel better.

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