The Woman in the Doorway

This is an actual incident that happened in me in the 11th grade, about 3 years ago. And it still haunts me to this day. Her face is burned into my memory. It’s the one regret I have in life so far, that I did not have the courage to take initiative.


She lies there in the doorway
Face blotchy from the punches and pummels
Her body too weak to stand
It was all she could do to turn the handle

Half dead from the abuses she’s received
Letting her guard down means going into the light
But she wants to live another day
She chooses to hold on and fight

Suddenly the elevator door chimes
Two young boys walk out
She tries her hardest to scream
Only a feeble whimper emerges out

But they notice and rush to her side
Ask her what’s wrong with terrified eyes
She’s far too worn out to speak
And the language barrier far too deep

She motions for their water bottle
Grabs it, starts desperately drinking
They look to each other in terror and confusion
Not knowing what to do, the consequences fearing

She pushed her phone weakly to them
Asked to call the number displayed
The women’s helpline, the police, God only knows
Their frantic efforts doubled with the sight of blood where she lay

But alas her phone would not do it’s job
Betrayed her in her time of need
They handed it back with apologetic eyes
Their muscles tensed, ready to flee

And that’s exactly what they did
Fled, fearing the consequences
Left her there alone bleeding
Slowly going out of her senses

They didn’t look back once
Didn’t call for the police or other help
Took to their heels, leaving dust trails behind
Like the cowards they were, the young whelps

And she remained in the doorway
Her feeble cries for help gone unanswered
Lord knows what happened to her
I hope someone came to save her


Picture Courtesy:


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