The Girl With No Name

As I woke by the sound of the gunshot that same gunshot that haunted me every night since. I realised this was not going away no matter how much therapy I had. The days would blend into one as I sat on the sofa watching the weather change as the seasons themselves felt like a drag.

I never will be ok. Yet if I had said that to myself seven years ago I would never have believed myself. It had been my dream to help others, travelling the world as I went. I had worked so hard to get my dream and even though my dreams came true so did my worst nightmare.

It all started in 2019 back in a war torn country that I can’t even think of, you see I was a war photographer and I’m only writing this to try and relieve the pain that bores within my heart.

It’s not for pity or for anyone else to read but my therapist said I should try writing it all down so here goes nothing. At first I thought the idea was rubbish but to be honest I am left with no option but to try anything and I mean anything to stop the memories dancing round in circles in my tired mind.

I couldn’t help but feel like it was listening to my sighs and judging me so I picked up the little black book I had purchased that had be sat around for weeks and began not at the beginning but at the end after all this was my story and I’ll tell it how I like - not how some stupid therapist thinks it should be done! Everyone is different and in my opinion I needed to get this off my chest.

I thought I could help by not only taking pictures of the war going on around me for the newspapers but also help by taking pictures of families and friends together and giving them a copy to keep their spirits up. So I did just that. Many families were grateful and I knew I was on the right path.

I held a pen in my hand for what felt like the first time, unsure of my ability to write. I started with the date.

10th July 2019

10th July would haunt me forever, I was developing my film when Ricky ran in and told me to pack up we needed to leave to get some last shots of what was going on. So I grabbed my camera bag with memory cards and this picture that was taken of a girl about 5 years old with her best friend probably the same age she had such a beautiful smile as if there wasn’t a care in the world when she was with her friend, unlike the picture I had taken of her with her family that I had already given to them. The family tried to smile as they clung onto hope but I could see the worry in their eyes. The girl in that photo and the one with her best friend were different, almost like two different people. It was strange but I was determined to give her this photo of her own to her to keep a smile on her face, that same face that is scolded into my brain to this day.

Ricky opened the door to the car I asked to make a quick stop as we neared the house of the family but he said we didn’t have time. Something big was happening that we needed to get there straight away.

as we ran through the village I realised what Ricky had meant my jaw clenched at the sight of all the guns in the hands of people who didn’t know what impact they were having. This was somehow a sudden shock to me as if I had never been in this situation before.

With my camera round my neck and the picture in my hand I could immediately taste blood. I took a few pictures as I slowed down into a walk when I saw something through the lens of my camera, something so horrendous I could hardly breathe, a man stood with empowerment in his expression and I just couldn’t, I couldn’t hit the button on the top on my camera as he stood there I wanted to knock him out but I couldn’t move, as half buried in the sand was one of the many photos I had taken but what stood out on the photo was the little girl with worry in her eyes.

That was when it hit me I moved forward ready to lunge at the man fully armed infront of me when I felt arms pull me back. I heard Ricky’s voice ringing through my head. It was time to leave.

2021

When I got home from the local shop I found a letter from what seemed to be Ricky’s sister. It said that he had been shot in another country a few weeks ago, but she was happy because he died doing something with a cause which he was passionate about.

It also said how he had left me 20,000 dollars. I was in shock as the last time I saw him in person was the 10th July 2019.

It hit me like a slap to the face. I knew what I had to do, I knew why this money had been left to me. Ricky knew me well, better than anyone he knew, I wasn’t selfish but he also knew I would never sell my story. What happened between me and him would stay that way.

After a bank run to sign a few things I had officially donated the money to a charity that helps countries at war. Although I knew I had done the right thing I couldn’t help but feel guilt.

I would have my pictures that would live beyond me, especially ones of Ricky and I from years ago. They would be stored in media archives but I would always hold and cherish this one picture of a nameless girl with her best friend that was now in my mind forever stained crimson.