Four Chances — A Short Story

Stuck. So stuck. She used the last of her four chances over a month ago and now had nowhere to run. The police, if you could call them that, were pursuing her and it was just a matter of time before they found her. She could turn herself in, but that would mean certain death. She needed this one last fight before it all ended.

Chance 1.

He was in a mood and ready to fight. She was drinking again. They were at home minding their own business when a nosey neighbor came to check on them. She was just trying to turn them away and handle things on her own. But they wouldn’t let things be. They pushed to come in and she pushed back. The neighbor ended up with an injury and she ended up with a blown chance.

They told her that if she ate the right things and exercised enough that she could change. That he would change. That all their problems would fade away and they would turn into happy people. She would stop drinking and he would stop punching. She drank to escape his fists and he hit to escape his rage. The rage was born from a deep-seated fear of inadequacy. With a side of PTSD. But that was all supposed to fade away with the right treatment.

Chance 2.

It was an honest mistake. He walked into the bar and mistook another woman for her. The woman was offended and she tried to broker peace. In the end, she caused more damage, there was no peace and she was in the wrong. Again. Blown chance number 2.