Something Like Fate (editing)

Chapter Three (edited/re-written)

"Have there been any calls?" Debbie Morgan, head of the women's treatment centre, nods towards the phone.

"A couple that I put through," I sigh. There have only been three calls since I've been here in the last hour and a half: two from very distressed sounding women that I put through to Sandra in the back, who solely operates the helpline, and one wrong number. The last one seemed very annoyed that I wasn't some bloke called Kevin who she hooked-up with last night, as if that wasn't a clear sign this guy wasn't interested because who even gives a home number these days.

I look out the window while putting down the paper I was playing with to look busy. Darkness looms over Belleview despite it only being seven o'clock, a reminder that it's December. It's the perfect time of year. Everyone is rushing around looking for presents for their loved ones, making the most of our limited shopping options that just about extends to Topshop, and there's excited debates about what's the cutest wrapping paper to use. You can just smell the apple pies people are going to bake and imagine the gleeful claps when they light the small tree in the middle of the town as if there's never been a more wondrous sight. But really, that's on the other side of town. It's nowhere near women's domestic violence treatment facility where I'm currently looking out to an empty pavement.

The centre only opened two years ago and is situated next to a run-down Chinese takeaway and a boarded up tailor shop right near the outskirts of Belleview. It's hardly what you would call being in an ideal location. Popping into Chan Chan's for a bite to eat at dinner time is always nice, though, since it's fairly cheap and tastes alright if you chew really quickly. It's not really the warm and welcoming place people expect when they come to us for help. It's a little forgotten place, both during this time of year as well as the other eleven months of the calendar.

"We're just not reaching enough people," Debbie informs me in a low voice, even though it's just her, Sandra and I here tonight. The lines etched around her tired eyes reveal just how hard she works since was she was one to open the treatment facility, after suffering abuse at the hands of her ex-husband, as a way to help other women. She's never mentioned her situation directly to me. Sandra informed me one night in a hushed tone when I went to make her a tea. I think she saw the gossip as a way of payment for the beverage and a chance to get me to stay so she had some company on her shift.

"You're doing the best you can," I reassure her.

"I wish I could do so much more, though," she confides, looking on the verge on either screaming or sleeping. "It's not fair on any of you as well. I mean, I can't pay you. And then you're work just mainly involves waiting."

"It's worth it," I say, finality in my tone. Those couple of calls every shift are why I do this: the thought of just helping someone, anyone, makes the half hour trek over here once a week worth it.

It's worth it to make sure no other girl ever feels like I did.

Isaac is the only guy I've ever dated, so far. I've kissed other guys yet I've never committed to them. I'm a girl after an interpersonal connection, one that makes me feel magical and special. There's a rule I have about guys and relationships: hanging out and being together shouldn't feel like a chore you have to do, otherwise it's no different than spending time with your doctor – convenience isn't always good.

I didn't want just any guy. I wanted the guy. Really, I wanted Jack from Titanic to make-out with me as we were faced by death because it would be passionate and he'd be forced to get with me given his lack of options. I didn't know a thing about sex in a vivid physical way back then so in my childish imagination Leonardo DiCaprio would give me a "special cuddle" as that girl to womanhood book my mother got me for my twelfth birthday informed me about intimacy. Believe it or not, it was well hot stuff back then to me.