In order to alleviate some of the stress I have been under due to the events of the last few months, I ran towards her, hoping to have physical and emotional contact with that only person I had a minimum of confidence in this damn place.
I approached her to hug her, with a bit of tension in my heart, as I feared she would avoid me. After all, I knew that my rapid advance, coupled with my appearance, might startle her. She would probably be surprised by my unexpected appearance.
Fortunately, she did not. She did not move to dodge my arms wrapped around her waist, nor did she refuse my head resting on her abdomen, which brushed her shy breasts with its top.
‘She is so comfortable and soft, almost like…’
Closing my eyes, I let myself be carried away in pleasure to enjoy the sensation and the moment.
The instant our bodies touched, I clearly felt the contrast with her wearing a proper outfit, with numerous garments that cover her with their warmth, compared to me, who wears a single piece, which only covers my most embarrassing part but does not provide any protection from the cold.
‘… my mom’
The warmth she transmitted to me was like that of my mother or grandmother.
I felt nostalgic. I remembered the good old days when I would hug them after coming home from school, with the only difference being that they would hug me back while gently caressing my head.
Although she didn’t do that, her receiving me was enough for me.
Therefore, letting myself be carried away by the physical age that this body had and accepting the I of now is different from the one of my memories, that I am someone new, as young as any child, I acted as one, I waited for her love, support, and understanding.
I became so immersed in the excitement that I was even on the verge of completely forgetting the primary purpose for which I was looking for her, yet before that could happen, a spark flashed in my brain, leading me, reluctantly, to open my eyes as I separated from her a little.
Still holding the edge of her clothes with one hand, I took half a step backward, and after raising my head to see where her face was covered under cloths, with all the sincerity of my heart, I drew on my lips a smile so big that it narrowed my eyes so much that my vision was blurred.
Then, once I thought I had done it enough, I opened my mouth to transmit those words I wanted to tell her so much.
”Thank you very much for taking care of me an-…”
My voice was cut off. Not because I wanted to but because something forced me to stop.
With my head turned to my right, with one of my eyes, the left one, on the verge of tears, I was stunned, looking at the wooden door that hid behind it the women’s room while in my mind, I remembered a unique event of my past life.
It only happened once, but that was enough to make me never forget it.
Like a foolish and ill-tempered child, I argued strongly with my mother, so she, annoyed by my actions, punished me, though the way she did it then was different from usual. Maybe she was stressed, or perhaps, she was tired, but whatever the reason, she hit me as a reprimand.
At that time, I cried, for that hit hurt me. However, now I did not, nor do I feel that I want to.
Not understanding what had happened or refusing to do so, and without still turning my head, I caressed my slapped cheek with my right hand. It hurt, but the sensation was insignificant compared to those blows I received from the boys I had fought, but although my body was fine, my heart and soul were not.
I didn’t even pay attention to the commotion going on around me. In my daze, I thought I heard the woman and the old woman arguing among themselves. I didn’t know why or how upset they were, for I didn’t look at what they were doing. My eyes were only focused on the wooden door as my mind traveled through a non-existent void.
In the end, his angry shouts did not last for long, as they ceased when heavy footsteps approached, accompanied by the furious rumbling produced on the ground with each movement.
I possess no clear memories beyond that since my broken mind was no longer interested in anything. The little I remember is a door that opened and closed, plus a heavy, cold feeling on my shoulder.
After that, I went to sleep.
. . . . .
”Damn bitch, how dare she slaps me”
Not worrying at all about anyone hearing me, having searched and entered an empty room, I began to scream with saliva coming out of my mouth as I punched hard on the walls of the place, ignoring the wounds I caused to my fists for doing so.
”To me. To me, who always tried to be friendly with her, who always tried to be good to her, and even planned to help her get out of here”
With unbridled anger, I stopped thinking and acted guided only by the emotions I felt, leading me to cause a mess in the room and my body that had to bear the consequences of my reckless actions.
The nails of my toes, after several kicks to the wall, little by little were broken, and blood was coming out from the soles of my feet, for when I took some wrong steps, the floor was scratching them. The annoyance had clouded my senses since I was outraged as never before that someone other than my mom slapped me.
”Damn her. Damn her. Damn her…”
My anger was justified.
That was something I wholeheartedly believed, as, until now, I had never done anything to deserve what she did to me. While I understood that when we first met in the hallway, I may have frightened her, such an event was a one-time occurrence, a single occasion in which I made a mistake that didn’t even hurt her.
”Yes, I haven’t done anything evil to her, so why did she do it?”
Being calmer but no less angry, in a whispering voice, I questioned myself about the reason for her actions.
I never hurt her, not even when I hugged her, because back then, as excited as I was, I controlled the strength in my arms enough not to hurt her. Besides, even though I’ve become a bit ugly now, when I was a baby, I always, every damn day I saw her, smiled at her.
Everyone knows it’s impossible to hate a little one who’s always smiling. There is no point in doing so, not unless it is done by an evil person.
”… … Yes, a kind person could not do it. Therefore, she is evil”
Judging her for what she did to me and downplaying any vain motive for her actions, I called her the biggest bitch in my heart.
A dirty, corrupt woman who did not deserve my sympathy.
I laughed. Loudly and like crazy, I did. Driven by an unpleasant motive.
”Bitch. Bitch, you deserve it. You really deserve all this. I knew that God could not be so unjust. I knew he inflicts punishment on those who sin with malice. Yes, damned whore, you will rot here for the filth of your soul while I will escape. I will leave this filthy place and start a new life. I will live thousands of adventures and get hundreds of women much better than you”
I was losing my mind. I stopped thinking more and more, delving deeper into the seas of madness.
”Hahaha! Yeah. Exactly why would I do that? Why the hell should I sacrifice my precious time for someone like that? No, I shouldn’t. They’re not worth saving. Let them rot here. When I leave, I’ll do it alone. After all, that would be easier than carrying so much useless garbage on my back”
After responding to the voices in my head, I continued to laugh and get angry, time after time, interspersed with emotion after emotion.
. . . . .
It’s been about two days since that angry outburst I had, and now that my head is calmer, clearer, and cooler, I have a death wish.
Regret, shame, and listlessness are killing me.
I regret it because after thinking about it coldly, I realized how reckless I was to approach her the way I did, without even considering what kind of vision she had for us children. That is, I underestimated how much she must have hated the children of her abusers.
‘I was an asshole’
Worst of all, perhaps I once thought how unpleasant it would be. However, since I was the one doing it, I thought I would be different from the others, I believed I was special, so I assumed she might, no, that she would have to come to like me…
Now, the embarrassment came from everything I said and thought about her.
All right, I know I did it in hiding, in solitary. So, everything I did didn’t affect her at all. Besides, now that I’ve repented, that should be forgotten, but I can’t do it. I’m ashamed that I acted like that, so… filthy
‘I am a despicable scumbag’
I want to apologize, even though I know it wouldn’t change anything and that maybe it would be best not to approach her again. However, for the sake of my mental health, I need to do it. I have to promise her, no matter if she doesn’t understand me, that I will get her and the others out of here. When I grow up, whatever it costs me, I will do it.
Besides, I have learned the hard way that wanting it is not enough, as I need to act to achieve it. Therefore, I must go and find her right now. Without wasting time on regrets…
‘I can’t do it’
That’s where the listlessness comes in.
Having lost my emotional support, that thin cord that I would usually ignore but that, due to the circumstances I lived through, became the only one that sustained me, is a hard blow to my psyche.
Getting up from where I’m lying feels so hard. At least, today, I don’t think I can do it. So, I’ll save it for tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll look for her to apologize. For now, I’ll try to sleep, no matter how hard it is to do so.