No happy endings

   After it happened, I went right into the bathroom and pretended I was doing what people do in a bathroom. Of course, I had closed the door properly and, after a few minutes, I turned the faucet on to make water run and make them think I was washing my hands. But the truth was that I wasn’t doing any of that. I was staring at myself in the mirror, looking at a person that I knew but not really that well. I got closer to the glass and really tried to get in there, I really tried to see if there was a human behind those eyes. Maybe the one I thought I knew or maybe another, a new person that I had to get to know better.

 But no, it was me. It was me there, naked on a bathroom in which I had never been in. I decided right there that I wanted to leave but, after what was happening in there, I had no idea if anyone was going to let me leave. To be fair, they both looked like decent people, not the kind that put a lock on the door and then do something unspeakable. No, they really seemed like any other people or at least like any others that liked what they had started doing after a lot of drinks. But I did want to leave so that had to be my priority. In this day and age, I couldn’t just do as they pleased and forget myself in seconds.

 However, that was exactly what I did. I tried to forget myself for a while, trying to pretend I was some other person or that I was in some other place. It worked for short periods of time but then I had an interruption from reality and I had to start over again. But that had been a very good idea because, not much long after my escape to the bathroom, everything finished and we found ourselves catching our breaths. It was then I stepped out of that place, after arranging myself properly that is and checking that I had all my belongings on me. I know very well how rude that was of me, but there was no other way.

As I walked towards the bus stop, I tried to convince myself that was the best thing to do. After all, I didn’t even know them. I hardly knew their names and not so much more about them. I did not know what they did for a living and had no idea of the dog’s name, the one that had been sleeping in his little bed for all the time I had been in there. I didn’t get to ask how was it possible that they could afford such a nice place in such an expensive neighborhood, being only two people with, as far as I knew, fairly common incomes. But none of that was ever mention at any moment, as alcohol had played too much a role.

 I sat down at the bus stop. The place was lonely and freezing. Luckily, the next bus would pass in just a few minutes and I would be home in a rather short time, or so I hoped because of the late hour. When the bus got there, I noticed there were very few people in it at that time and the only ones there were all alone, not talking to anyone or having any kind of interaction. Somehow, I felt I belonged there at that moment, in that exact place in the world.

 When I got home, I checked my cellphone as I took off my clothes off for a second time that night. They had written me that they had loved their evening with me and would have loved for me to stay. I felt strange, wrong somehow. It was all made even weirder by the fact that the guy that wrote had a picture of their wedding as his profile picture on the app he used to contact me. It made me feel like an invader, like someone who wasn’t supposed to be there. And also, it made me feel lonely and not worthy of anything.

 I spent a few minutes in the dark, sitting on the edge of my bed, only wearing socks and briefs. I wondered about my life, my shitty little place, my horrible job and my absolute lack of friendships and real love possibilities. Instead of spending a fun night, which had been my intention all along, I was feeling horrible. Feelings of loneliness and sadness invaded my body and it was then when I moved to get under the covers and tuck myself in tightly in order for the warmth of the fabrics to make me feel a little less horrible.

 However, the mind always works more when left alone. So, I started thinking about the cute couple that I had met earlier. They had seen me at the bar, and we started drinking right then, drinking and drinking a lot. We did that for only a couple of hours and then they talked about their place and I just said “yes”, without any hesitation or doubt. I just pushed myself into something I didn’t know about, without measuring any possibility of danger or any outcomes. They had chosen me as their person for a while and it was just when I entered their place when I realized what I had become, at least that night.

 I was just a guy. I wasn’t me, with my personality and all the things that make myself the person that I am. They weren’t interested in that, so the alcohol collaborated with some part of my unconscious brain to just hide all that was me and “enjoy” myself that way. And I did, I cannot pretend I did not feel pleasure or happiness in different amounts. But it was right before running to the bathroom when I realized they just wanted a body there to be with them. I was not myself in the sense that there was no one inside that body, at least not the full me controlling everything, as it should always be the case.

 One has to do what one has to do, so I did. I made them happy or at least did exactly what they had probably thought about for a long time. I was the vessel for their imagination, for their pleasures and fantasies. And that was nice, I guess, but I have to believe someone, only one person, can also feel something for me and not only for the me that moves around the world but for the me that lives inside this body, the me that thinks and hurts and feels insane sometimes. Maybe someone can find a way to actually love me for who I am.

 But I won’t keep my hopes up. This is life, not a silly movie. There are no real happy endings.

Crumbling

   My head was spinning as I cleaned my mouth. I had emptied my bowels on the floor, completely. I didn’t feel relieved at all. There had been no food in my stomach, no liquid except some blood because of the punches he had given me in the stomach. I was still holding the pipe I had used to smash his head. However, I had used it way more than I should have and that’s why I had to relieve myself just there. I tried not looking at his body but it was impossible not to do so. It was too bad not to look at him.

 I looked around me suddenly realizing that I was there alone. Luckily, the power station in ruins near the ocean had been a perfect place for him to drag me into. He had been brutal and I think that’s why I did what I did. So I stopped thinking about it and just dragged his body closer to the ocean. I knew bodies would often float to the surface and people would come asking questions. So I just left him there, by the water, to let nature do what she had to do, no matter what it was.

 I washed myself in the water and then stepped out of the ruins, leaving him there. I had to walk down the road, back to the nearest place where I could get a ride back to the city. I had to pretend I was happy, being some sort of crazy college guy that had way too much alcohol the last night. I had to make jokes to the nice young lady that took me back to town and I had to ask her to leave near a university not too far from my home. She was nice with me and I would always remember her kindness.

 When I entered my apartment, I had to use the key on the plant next to the door, where I had always hidden a copy. When I opened, my cat almost jumped on top of me, meowing loudly, calling my attention and also demanding that I fed him right that instant. After all, he had been alone for a whole day or maybe two. The truth was that I didn’t really know what day it was, as I had lost my cellphone when the man had kidnapped me and taken me to the ruins. I fed my cat first and then took a long shower.

 I wanted to feel clean but I couldn’t really do anything to remove the whole stench from my skin. Not only he had been a beast to me, inflicting even more damage than what was visible, but I also bleeding and hurting inside and in my brain. My cat stood by the door, as if he was watching over me and, somehow, that made me cry. I cried so much right under the water, so much so that I felt drowned for a moment. I stepped out some time later, to watch myself in the mirror and face what I had done. I had killed someone, in my own defense anyway, but I had done it nevertheless.

 After coming out of the shower, I pulled out a suitcase from a closet and then started putting my favorite clothes in there. When I had the suitcase filled up, I called my parents and told them I had been invited by a friend to visit him abroad. I asked them for money for the plane ticket and they were kind enough to give it to me. It wasn’t that they had money to give away but they had been putting away some money for me, in case I wanted to study something more in life or put up a business or something.

 The plane ticket was not so expensive, though. So it was easy on their pockets. I bought it right then, with my savings, and I would use my parents’ money for the trip that would become a permanent thing. I also asked my mom to come for my cat, because I would not be able to travel with him. I think I kissed that silly animal like a hundred times and hugged him to the point he scratched in the face. He’s crazy like that but I do love him and I knew I was going to miss him a lot. I left him there, all alone.

 My plane would be leaving the country in just a few hours. I arrived just in time, running from one checkpoint to the other in order to make it to the boarding gate. Once inside, I felt a little bit at ease, writing on my cellphone one last message to my mother. I told her I would be leaving for a week or more and that I would tell her anything new when it happened. I hung up and then started watching the sky and the clouds through the window, as the plane began moving on the tarmac, on to the sky.

 I fell asleep fast and when I woke up, the flight attendant was smiling at me, handing me a tray of food. I took it and ate it in a few minutes, discovering how hungry I was. I hadn’t eaten a piece of food in a long time, so I was in need of it. It was at the moment when I stood up to go to the bathroom, when a woman almost screamed at me, when I was reminded that that wasn’t a trip of pleasure but one to run away from everything. I wanted to be far from the place that reminded me of everything that had been done to me or by me.

 She had yelled because of the stain in my pants. I ran to the lavatory and closed the door, because I had felt the liquid blood beneath my thighs. I tried to clean it but the only thing I could achieve was to cry again, trying not to sob too hard. I didn’t want anyone to hear my voice; I didn’t want anyone to know what had happened. All of it was going to haunt me forever that was more than clear to me. I wasn’t going to walk away from all of it and things, all those little things life is made of, would haunt me to my last day. That was more than obvious to me.

 Someone then knocked at the door. I didn’t answer. Another knock and I was getting very nervous. Then, I heard the voice of the captain announcing that we were going to land very soon and that it was important for everyone to get back to their seat, as the descent was going to be bumpy.

 I head the knock again and then a soft voice, the same voice that have given me the food tray, asked me to open the door. I did. She had a pair of man’s pants on her hand and handed them to me. She asked me to be fast, smiling before closing the door.

 That’s another face I will never forget. Hers, the woman that drove me back home and his face. His face…

Camilla's aunt

   The man closest to the window started screaming, slamming the table with his fists, launching to the floor every single piece of the chess game he was playing with a younger man. That one looked like a younger and saner version of the person that was being carried away to his room by two big men in blue uniforms. The kid looked on in disbelief and fear, as his father kicked the air and screamed nonsense. A minute late, it was as if nothing had happened on the room.

 Camilla turned around and looked at her aunt Matilda. She had always had the most beautiful hair in her family: it was long and silky, jet black like the night sky. Her mother told Camilla that she had gotten her hair color from her aunt but that was everything she had that was similar to her aunt. That poor woman was now on a wheelchair and she drooled often, her mother having to clean it from her mouth and lap every few lines of a conversation that was one sided, as Matilda couldn’t talk.

 Her mother had always told Camilla that no one really understood why her aunt had fallen ill like that. As far as she knew, it had happened overnight or after a night fever or something like that. Camilla’s mother liked to invent new realities every time a subject so touchy came up. It was not as if she didn’t wanted to talk about it but rather, her subconscious had created different versions of what had happened to protect her. Her story kept changing every time she was asked about it.

 They stayed in the hospital for ten more minutes, then a nurse came around to tell everyone to leave as visiting hours had finished. Camilla kissed her aunt on the cheek and it was then, in a second, when she saw a flicker of something, probably life, deep inside her aunt’s eyes. Camilla didn’t have any time to respond or to say a word. Her mother took her hand and Camilla just walked until they reached the parking lot. Once inside the car, on the passenger seat, she wondered looking at the sky.

 Once they got home, rain began to fall from the sky, first kindly and then harder. Camilla sat down in front of her computer and started reading about psychiatric disorders and then about the places people like her aunt were put into when no doctors could point out what was wrong. She saw horrible pictures and read awful essays and articles from all over the place and was only interrupted when her nine-year-old brother came to show her that he had caught a toad outside the house. He had spent his day with their father, playing ball in some park.

 Camille humored her brother for a while but then she started thinking about her aunt again. She wondered if Matilda was curious still about the world around her. Would she be interested on a toad if she saw one through her room window or would she just stare, looking at nothing in particular? Then again, she had no idea if her aunt had a window in her bedroom. It was very likely but the place did look old and people never seemed to care a lot about mental health.

 She came up to this conclusion when one her classmates, a girl called Anna, committed suicide back in high school. They still had two more years to go and the poor girl couldn’t take any of it anymore. Camilla felt awful when it happened, as she felt she had never really cared about that particular girl. She knew she couldn’t be friends with every single person but anyway, guilt is like that. Unexplainable and painful. All the girls went to the burial and they all seemed concerned.

 However, the school never really addressed what had happened. They did tell everyone for a couple of days that, if they needed help, they could always go to the school therapist and tell him whatever they needed to say. A couple of girls did go but their problems were much easier to solve than the one that Anna must have had. Camilla tried hard to learn more about her deceased classmate, but she stopped when the mother yelled at her over the phone, calling her a pervert.

 There were all sorts of rumors: Anna was a closeted lesbian or she was a nihilistic teenager that wanted the world to end. Others said she was always on drugs while others blamed alcohol. Camilla even heard a teacher once saying that the girl must have had a secret pregnancy or, even worse, an abortion. But there was nothing to proof any of those theories. They only knew that a girl had died and all of a sudden a world of stories was born, about someone they had never bothered to really know.

 Camilla wondered all night if Anna and Matilda had anything that connected them, besides probable mental issues. She wanted to know more about the subject and she decided, very late at night, that she had to learn about it, no matter what. So the next day, before class, she decided to spend a couple of hours in the university’s library, where a towering amount of scientific book awaited her. She chose three of the ones that seemed less hard to understand and she started reading. About the brain, about the nervous system and about all kinds of psychological theories.

 By the time she came out of the library, her head felt full of information. A headache haunted her for the rest of the day, at class and even after having a generous launch. Her friend Bastian asked her about what was wrong with her but she decided not to tell anyone about her hunt for answers. She didn’t want everyone to look at her as if she was crazy. Because that’s something recurring she learned from the books: people trying to get answers are always labeled as crazy themselves.

 She blamed the headache for her attitude that day and decided to skip the last class, which was always very boring anyway. She did think about going home but, instead, Camilla decided to walk around a little bit. That way, she could avoid answering annoying questions at home about why she was so early at home. She wandered through some parks, a mall and several streets. She never got lost because she knew her way but aunt Matilda was always in her mind. Then, she knew what to do.

 Some twenty minutes later, she was waiting in the same room she had been the day before with her mother. But this time she was by herself, waiting for a male nurse to come with her aunt. She knew her mother was not going to like this visit but she didn’t care. Somehow, she knew that the answers that she was looking for where there, enclosed in one of the many rooms that had been built specially for people like her aunt, absent almost completely from all reality and sense.

 When the male nurse rolled her aunt in and left, Camilla looked straight to Matilda’s eyes and waited. She wanted to know if that glimmer had being something of one day or if signs of inner life could be seen again. Nothing happened. Camilla grab each of her aunt’s hands with her own and then smile at her. Matilda’s skin was a bit rough but she somehow knew she had being stunningly beautiful when she was younger. Her mother had failed to show her pictures of their past.

 Pushed by something, some strange feeling, Camilla went closer to her aunt. Her lips were a few centimeters away from one of her aunt’s ear. She doubted for a second but then asked the question she wanted answered, or at least one of them: “What happened to you?”

 She pulled back and waited. Her aunt’s eyes seemed dead for a moment, but then she saw that flicker again, a spark of life inside her aunt. Then, one word was spoken by Matilda. Camilla had to get closer to hear properly. And when she did, her world was turned upside down.