Let me know if you can read this chapter. There seems to be a problem with Wattpad and people can't see the chapters after Chapter 10.
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I gazed into space. The world I saw was different. It was not the same as the one they looked at or lived in. We were so different. Their life was all about eating food. It was so humanlike. So ungodly. I stared at them while they ate like pigs.
My mother hated me. Her eyes were filled with hatred. She could not control me and this infuriated her.
"We should send her to a foster home or something. If she doesn't leave, I will," she told my father.
What are youwaiting for? Call them! Come on! Perhaps I would end up in a better family. I wished I had different parents. Why was I so unlike my father? I only looked like her. I had her legs, her anger, her hate. I hated her.
"Can't you have a happier face?" the ogress asked me. "You make me sick. You are ruining my mood."
No, I could not fake it. I was not happy. I could not appear to be happy. Why didn't you ask me why I felt this way? Why didn't you ask me why I felt like I would rather die than live again? Why didn't you ask me why I didn't feel that there was a way out of this family? I wished you could care more. I wished people could care.
As punishment for being unable to smile, my mother ordered me to clean up the table, counter, and dishes by myself. Audrey was forbidden to help me. I did not care. I just turned my hatred towards the greasy pans and the disgusting smell of burned sausages.
It did not take me long. It only took twenty minutes to make all traces of the meal disappear. It only remained in their full stomachs with a mixture of other chewed substances.
My mother sat smoking in her rocking chair. Her face showed her usual cold feeling. My father was there too. They both had been looking at me in silence while I cleaned the kitchen.
I did not want to stick around. I did not want to look at them. I felt as if I was a scorned ghost so I rushed upstairs.
"You gonna pack your bags?" asked my mother with a sarcastic tone when she saw I was on my way to my room.
I did not reply. I just grabbed my shoes and my coat before I told her I was going to the library. I had to tell her where I was going because that was a rule. A mother had to know where her "things" were. Not telling her would just make my life worse. I do not know how it could be any worse, but she would probably find a way. Some way humiliating, hurtful. My heart was already broken; she would also break my soul.
I walked to the library with a rapid and steady pace. It was raining outside. My hair was dripping wet. The raindrops ran down my cheeks and the front of my head. Some even reached my lips and entered in my mouth.
I heard the sound of thunder and there was lightning. I wished one bolt would hit me and kill me. I looked at the trees, their branches moving angrily with the wind. If the lightning did not hit me, it could at least hit a tree so that a heavy branch would fall on me.
I did not want to kill myself. I just wanted to die.
I finally arrived at the library. It was closed. The sky refused to give me its protection, God did not want to kill me, and the library did not care that there was a war going on at home. The Universe did not care what I was feeling. It was only me. I needed to see Ana. I needed to confide in someone. I needed her support.
I retraced my steps back to our so-called haunted house, still wondering if faith would make itself heard and I would suddenly die.
Again, nothing happened.
When I returned home, my mother's anger had still not diminished.
"Go hang yourself from a tree. I don't want to see you anymore." These words echoed in the silence of my heart for a long time. I pondered them, wondering if I should grant her that wish. Should I go in the garage and look for that rope?
No, I decided. I would die, but not the way she wanted. It was my life and thus I should decide which way I would kill myself. I did not want to hang like a criminal. I was a victim. I was the victim of her hatred.
I took off my shoes before walking toward the stairs.
"I am wet. I will go take a bath to warm me up or I will catch a cold," I said calmly, as if she had said nothing at all to me.
I did not look at her. I was gazing into space. The space was all I could see for so long.
I filled the bathtub with warm water. I entered it without taking off my clothes. I wanted to die, but I did not want to die naked. I did not want people to find my body buck-naked. That would be humiliating, denigrating. I was a queen and thus should be entitled to some privacy.
The warmth of the water invaded my body. It was reassuring to know this was the last feeling I would feel at the end of my short life. I let my body be submerged by the water. I grabbed the soap holder in my left hand and the tap in my right hand. I used them to hold me down. I closed my eyes and let the air out of my lungs. The water tickled my face and became still again. All I had to do now was wait. Wait. Wait.
It was all going as planned until I started feeling uneasy. I was having second thoughts. I was a coward. I felt afraid. Would God hate me if I killed myself? My mother's hate was already enough. My mother was not God and her hate toward me was already so destructive. What would God's hate do to me? Hell is one thing but, knowing my luck, God would build some place worst than Hell just for me.
I sat up in the bath and started breathing again, panting. I started crying. I wanted to die, but I did not want to kill myself. What a horrible feeling.
I raised my eyes and saw Ana was there, looking at me calmly. It was a bit of a shock since I hadn't seen her for almost four years now. Since my exorcism basically. I realized how much I had missed her.
"I knew you would not do it," she said.
"I wanted to, but I am so scared. I feel ashamed of being so weak. I wish I had the strength to do it."
"Or to be angry with others instead of with yourself."
"I am angry with them, but it hurts me to be angry. I am angry because it hurts me inside and they keep hurting me. I am angry with Mother because of her cruel words and because she yells all the time. I am angry with Daddy for doing nothing against Mother. Maybe I should just die of hunger. It takes longer, but they will see nothing and they will feel guiltier when they realize they never saw it coming. My parents are so blind. It is not only a plank they have in their eyes, but an entire forest."
"So, you want to kill yourself because you are angry they do not see how much you are suffering?"
"I just want them to love us."
"Us? I have the impression this is more about you."
"I know she does not love any of us. She never showed love to any of us. Certainly Jeremy and Audrey suffer too, but right now I just know how I feel and I seem to have a harder time than they do. I thought I was protecting them when, in fact, I am the one who needs protection."
"Indeed, it was time for you to disassociate yourself from your brother and sister."
"I do feel guilty about that, though. I want to be there for them."
"But right now you can't help them. Right now you want to die."
"I feel I am useless. Mother says I am good for nothing although I personally don't see what it is she is doing that is so important. She only sits in her chair, smokes, drinks beer, and spits her hate at us."
"This is not about your mother hating you anymore. She is not the only one who hates you anymore. You hate yourself just as much."
I started crying.
"I just don't see how I can be useful for something. I have no purpose. I failed. I thought I was here on Earth was to protect my family from my mother, to make my mother a loving being. But I could not do it. I cannot do it. I do not have the strength. If I cannot do this, then there is no point for me to be here.
"A lot of people on Earth are useless, but they don't want to face it. If they did, all of them would want to kill themselves. There is no point of living if there is nothing worth living for. I was living to help out the people I love, but now they do not care. I hit my sister! I am becoming more and more like my mother. That is the horrifying truth. I have only darkness in me, a continuous storm. I have no control of my feelings, of my life. I could only control my death but, even then, I had no control of my fear.
"I hate them. I hate their irony. I saw a picture of the cake they ate when I was born. It had 'Welcome, Marie!' written on it. As if I was ever welcomed here! My mother never wanted me. She never wanted any of us. And because I was hated so much, I have ended up not knowing what it means to be happy, to enjoy life.
"They should have listened to me when I came out from between the long, white legs of my mother, all covered in blood. I was screaming. I was screaming, but I was silenced. They stuffed my mouth with my mother's breast. I had to drink from her to live. I did not want to live. I wanted to scream. People do not shout their pain—they bury everything like dogs bury their bones, as if it was a treasure they do not want anyone to steal from them.
"I am disillusioned. Disillusionment is a hard thing to swallow. I have been crying so much that the few salty tears I have left do not wash away my pain anymore. It does not disinfect the cruelty, the injustice, the hate. I am sick in my heart. Life disgusts me."
Ana looked at me with a smile before saying, "So, so, Herr Doktor. So, Herr Enemy. I am your opus, I am your valuable, the pure gold baby that melts to a shriek. I turn and burn. Do not think I underestimate your great concern. Ash, ash—You poke and stir. Flesh, bone, there is nothing there."
I glanced at her with an incredulous air, wiping the tears off my cheeks.
"I am not sure what you are saying, but I do feel like I am nothing. I am not the flesh. I am not the bones. I am nothing."
"There, there. I understand you. The virus you carry fills my sight, all those cells that constitute you. How many are bones, how many are flesh, how many are fat? You are not there. Free yourself."
"I need your help."
"I am the best friend you will ever have. I am attached to you dearly. You can free yourself from your current life but you cannot free yourself from me. I will always be there. I am embedded into you."
"Bring me somewhere away from here. Bring me to your house."
I extended my hand to reach hers. She brought me to her house where I found comfort so often. She laid the table in front of me. Fruits of all colors, chocolate truffle cakes, and a pint of milk ornamented the table. I looked at it. It seemed so appetizing. I should have been delighted at such a sight. My mouth should have been watering.
I hesitated as I reached out for the delicacies. I saw the milk turn sour before me. The fruit rotted shortly after and the chocolate truffle cakes soon had a green moss growing on them. They were inedible.
I felt as if my mouth could not open itself again, as if it would not allow anything to enter it. I did not understand what was happening to me.
In a panic, I stared at my friend. She smiled at me, trying to reassure me.
"Quit doubting yourself. Do what I tell you, do what you should, and you won't be disgusted by yourself anymore. Purify yourself. Only clean things shall enter your body from now on. Only this way can you sanctify your soul."
I still could not speak. My lips were sealed.
"How, do you ask?" answered Ana, as if I had asked the question. "Start off with a cleansing diet. Exercise. Do light exercise, like abdominals. Your guilt is in your stomach. This is where you want to carve out the weight. Never eat fat or greasy food again. That would just ruin what you have done so far. Drink water, not milk or juice. They have too high caloric content. That will allow you to drop a few pounds. But that won't be enough."
She stood up and walked back and forth in front of me, reciting her plan with her hands behind her back.
"You have years of guilt accumulated, years of disgust. It is not good enough. You wanted all along to be a good girl, to be normal, to have a normal family. You tried but that lead you nowhere. You have not been trying hard enough. Actually, you have no friends and you connect with no one but me because no one understands you, no one knows who you really are inside. And inside, you are so dirty, so deeply buried under layers of fat that you don't even know who you are either. You don't know your true self."
She stopped and stared right into my eyes.
"You have seen signs of what you need to do all along. When your mother was proud of you because you didn't need much to eat and when you were flattered when people found you skinny. The message is clear: to free yourself you must drop the weight in your stomach and heart. You know what I am saying is true. Do you want to know something else? Your family—they are all disappointed in you. Your mother hoped you were stronger. She wished you could have taken care of her. Yet, she also wanted to feel she was the one in charge. She did not want to depend on her daughter. Her pride forbade her to. Your father never laid an honest eye on you. He has always been a ghost among the living. He never had feelings for you. He never loved you. No one could love you because they don't know who you are. You are hiding inside yourself and you are too cowardly to show yourself off. Free yourself and gain the strength to show them. Show them who you are. Free yourself!"
She looked away from me. The food disappeared from the table with a wave of her hand.
"Don't worry. I will be with you constantly during the process. In the morning when you step on the scale and every time you put something in your mouth. I will make you feel guilty when I see you deviating from freedom. It will be hard work but I will never leave you alone. Trust me."