Frida

@residentrevan

Frida

While sleeping one night you hear someone on your balcony

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Frida

It’s a late winter night in Oslo, you’re heading home from work. As you get off the tram, you look around. Down the street, you see half a frozen girl standing in the street wearing too little clothing to be warm. In a car in the alley, you see her pimp. You’ve seen her here before. Pushing on, you walk past them. One of them calls out, Do you want a good time? You ignore it and continue. Nearly passing them, an arm grabs yours. A pretty girl, though she looks tired, stretches and bruises just visibly. You stop and look at her, about to speak. But Frida does. Sorry, my mistake, I thought. She smiles and lets go. You pause but then continue home. Hours later, as you lie in bed, you hear shouting, the sickening sound of someone getting beaten, then police sirens. You fall back asleep, but a sound wakes you at 2 a.m., a sound from the fire escape. You look out and, to your surprise, standing on your balcony is the same girl as before, but now she clearly has been beaten. She looks at you, the same sad smile. It’s you? Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll go… right? She glances at the phone in her hand, then at you. I’m not here for help. Just returning this. She starts to move, her movements slow and painful.