Asha couldn’t drive, so she took a taxi to her work session. During the ride, she wondered how her life had led her to this point. “Asha, what happened? How did things unfold in your life to bring you here?” she asked herself silently. Her memories came rushing in to answer.

From childhood, before she even realized it, the night had become her enemy. The dark hours carried the bitterest memories of her existence memories of an absent father who had left their home without a backward glance, and a mother, consumed by alcohol, unable to fill the void he left behind.

As night fell, Asha found herself alone with her thoughts, trapped in a loop of memories that dragged her back to the abuse she had suffered. Repeated molestation by their neighbors, often right in front of her mother, who was too sedated by sleeping pills and alcohol to hear her cries or struggles events Asha wished she could erase from her mind forever.

She barely slept anymore. Every time she closed her eyes, the memories haunted her, chasing her even into her dreams. One night, in a desperate bid for peace, she rummaged through her mother’s drawers. There, she found her mother’s sleeping pills. The little white pills became a seemingly easy, almost harmless, solution to her nighttime torments.

The first night she swallowed one, she fell into a deep sleep for the first time in months. No memories. No terror. Just total darkness. It was a relief, almost a release. So, each night after, Asha returned to the bottle, taking one pill, then two, then three. Her mother never noticed—she took so many herself that it would have been impossible to know how much was missing.

But over time, the sleeping pills lost their potency. They no longer wiped away her fears or her nightmares. She often woke up with her heart racing, her body numb, but her mind still imprisoned by her traumas. The little pills, once her lifeline, were becoming useless. And yet, she couldn’t turn back.

Asha had an older brother, Tariq, who bore a striking resemblance to their father tall, handsome, with a strong yet tender face. Tariq suffered the same wounds as Asha, but he had chosen different means to face his pain. Their father had left an indelible mark on him too, a void he tried to fill by striving for perfection. While their home was engulfed in chaos, Tariq sought refuge in sports and academics. Basketball, running—any form of physical activity was enough to make him forget the shouting, the tears, and the oppressive silences. Intense effort allowed him to escape, for a few hours, the reality of their broken family life.

Unlike Asha, Tariq managed to maintain control. His discipline and determination quickly propelled him toward success. As soon as he finished high school, he earned a university scholarship abroad, far from the misery of their childhood. He never returned, cutting all ties with his past. For him, leaving the country meant abandoning what he couldn’t fix for himself, and for his sister.

Though this success was tinged with a certain bitterness, he preferred exile to confronting the ghosts of their past. Asha silently admired his ability to escape without looking back. But she didn’t have the same strength, or at least, not the same path. She remained anchored in the world that had wounded her, unable to extract herself as cleanly as her brother had.

Tariq had found a way to keep in touch with her, but it wasn’t enough to truly be present in her life. So, Asha found herself alone with her mother, whom she now cared for. Her mother was gravely ill, on the verge of no return, confined to a hospital bed for weeks. And for Asha, it was heartbreaking.

On the one hand, she deeply resented her mother for failing to care for her children, but most of all, for succumbing to alcohol after their father’s departure. On the other hand, she was angry at the thought that she might be turning into her mother, as alcohol had become her own way of avoiding the pain. It wasn’t until university, far from her mother’s chaotic household, that Asha discovered alcohol.

Until then, she had always steered clear of parties, burying herself in part-time jobs, her studies, and the quiet refuge of libraries, where the silence soothed her mind. But one night, a group of classmates invited her to a party she couldn’t refuse. She went reluctantly, her heart pounding with anxiety, as she couldn’t bear the thought of being surrounded by people. It unnerved her so much that she preferred to endure the familiar atmosphere of her dysfunctional home.

She remembered that night as if it were yesterday the sweet and bitter smell of beer, the loud laughter, the bursts of music that seemed to vibrate the floor beneath her feet. She felt like a stranger in this atmosphere, her body tense, ready to flee at any moment. But something inside her told her to stay.

Perhaps it was curiosity, or the desire to blend in, to forget, if only for a moment, the pain that clung to her. So, when someone handed her a vodka-orange, she didn’t hesitate. She took it and swallowed the first sip. The taste surprised her burning and bitter, with a hint of orange to mask the alcohol. But what surprised her more was the sensation that followed.

A wave of warmth spread through her body, relaxing her muscles, calming her thoughts. For the first time in years, Asha felt light, free from the weight of her memories. The world around her seemed blurred, distant, almost insignificant. She had found a new escape, more effective than any sleeping pill.

That night, Asha lost herself in the intoxicating sensation of alcohol. She barely remembered the details the blurred faces, the laughter she shared, the clumsy dances on an improvised floor. What stuck with her was that feeling of floating, as if the alcohol had managed to silence the voices in her head, the voices that condemned her to relive her past over and over. That night, she felt as if she had escaped, as if she had left her body behind…

This text is an excerpt from the book The Call of Dawn written by Winnie KITIO.

We invite you to read the following article, “At the Gates of Awakening.”

THE POISONED ESCAPE. THE POISONED ESCAPE. THE POISONED ESCAPE. THE POISONED ESCAPE.