Thirty four

'Hearts will break because I made a stupid mistake. It can happen to any of us; say you will forgive me.'

– Gareth Gates-

Using the fastest plane route that took me from New York to Jacksonville-Florida took almost four hours, followed by a journey by car for approximately six hours. My tears still couldn't stop flowing until they were swollen like a bee sting. Because I didn't want to attract public attention, sunglasses, and a mask became a lifesaver even though when the flight attendant offered me food, my voice sounded very hoarse.

I went through a very long and tiring journey, not to mention changing from a Greyhound bus to a taxi to get to the house in the Kershaw district. The appearance of the building hasn't changed much since I went to college four years ago, except that the shady trees that shade the yard feel cooler. The black-painted door with brown brick walls is also not worn out by age, even though our house is old.

Getting out of the taxi, I took off the mask that covered half of my face and took a deep breath of hot air while feeling the wind blowing, shaking the leaves, and touching my skin. I hobbled to the front door and knocked softly. Not long after, the door opened to reveal the figure of my mother, who was shocked to see her daughter's sudden appearance. Immediately, I grabbed her thin body, and I started crying again.

"What in God's name has happened to you, Lizzie? Why didn't you call?"

I was speechless and couldn't say anything else except sob. Mother cupped my face, looking for something her daughter hid behind this sad face. I turned away, unable to meet her pitying gaze. She hugged me again, stroking my back and whispering everything would be okay. Oh, mother... only you always know what I'm thinking even though my tongue can't speak.

I couldn't sleep for almost three days because every time I closed my eyes, the image of Andre's face and Billy's voice haunted me. During that time, I just locked myself in my room until my mother begged me to tell her what happened so her son could return to Jacksonville. Moreover, not a single food or drink entered my mouth, adding to the middle-aged woman's anxiety. It's not that I don't want to; it's just that I feel like my life has no meaning anymore.

This body... these hands... everything has been dirty and touched by two men I used to trust but instead betrayed me. Billy... Andre... father and son, are not much different and are increasingly similar to devils who are ready to drag humans into hell with all its cradles forcibly. Ah, remembering that night, my body shivered with fear again. The big chunks in my lungs seemed torturous until the feeling of tightness came again, and my eyes were dizzy.

"Let's see who the bigger bastard is."

Andre's words and the indecent sentences he said to me that night were heart-wrenching again. The wound in my chest will not heal even though decades will pass. What's even more stupid is why you have to get carried away by all the boasting and charm of the coffee man. In the end, he was no more of a bastard than his father, who had defiled women like animals.

I was glancing at the wall clock. It was already two in the morning when the moonlight reflected light. My head was so dizzy as if someone had hit me with a hammer from behind. From the reflection of the window glass, I could see my appearance was messy. Eyes that conveyed fatigue and disappointment, a red nose after days of crying, and no light coming out as if a witch had absorbed all the aura in the body.

I turned around, lay down on the bed then, looked up at the bedroom ceiling, then got up and away from the bed because flashes of Andre fucking me came. Finally, I sat down on the floor and wrapped my arms around my knees while sobbing and banging my head against the wall. Lord, can't you erase these bad memories? I ask that the bad memories of Andre and Billy disappear. God, I'm not asking for much.

Will God hear me up there? Does He want to listen to His servant, who is no longer holy? Even though I'm not devout, I try to be a good person who never hurts others. Is this enough? Lord... are You punishing me for rarely seeing you at church? Are You giving me this harsh warning because your servant is selfish?

The heavier the tears, the more painful the wounds and memories with Andre become. If our meeting made me suffer again, I should never have put my hopes in that place. In fact... I shouldn't have fallen in love with him.

I controlled my breath, which felt full, then grabbed the plastic packet containing a tablet of medicine that my mother had put there since yesterday afternoon and swallowed it. Doctor Margaretha gave me sedative medication; after yesterday, I had a panic attack and slit my wrist with broken glass. Luckily, William, who was on holiday from work at a hospital twenty minutes from home, gave me first aid. At least mothers don't need to take their children to the hospital as long as they have a husband who is an operating room nurse.

"Daddy... I want to meet you, Dad," I whispered. "I want to meet you and end this life, Dad. I'm tired...really tired..."

###

My eyes opened when the traces of the sun that were probably already high in the sky forced me to wake up. The whole body felt very painful, especially on both shoulders, and was accompanied by dizziness. Ah, it's true that a significant burden is carried that makes my shoulder muscles tense. Soaking in warm water surrounded by aromatherapy is the best choice. Suddenly, I got up and realized that I had fallen asleep on the floor last night, and now I was in bed.

My head turned towards a plate of sandwiches, a glass of water, and several white and yellow pills on the nightstand. Maybe it was the mother who William helped move this weak body. The smell of bacon and melted cheese was tempting; my stomach said the same thing and protested that if I were still stubborn, we would die this afternoon.

Finally, I chose water and the tablet. No matter how delicious my mother's toast was, my tongue was still reluctant to chew. I looked up to look at the clock; the clock hand still ticking up there showed nine o'clock in the morning.

A knock was heard behind the door, and it opened to reveal the figure of the woman who had cared for my mental health since childhood. Doctor Margaretha stood there and asked, "Can I come in?"

I was nodding my head weakly, then looking straight out the window. The weather seems brighter than yesterday; I miss when autumn will come. I miss the moment when the gust of wind, starting to feel cold to the bone, caressed my skin, and I saw the sprinkling of red-brown leaves that had fallen and covered the road. The trees will look bare, getting ready to hibernate for winter, and will bloom their flowers again next year.

"How do you feel, Lizzie?" Doctor Margaretha's voice was on the left, following my line of sight, waiting for the answer that came after days of being silent to everyone. "What happened?"

I'm still silent, busy with my head. The voices in my head immediately appeared and shouted, but I no longer had the energy to pay attention to them.

"You haven't spoken to me or your mother for almost five days, Dear. We're worried about what's happening to you now," continued the doctor, wanting to touch my hair but didn't do so until I gave her permission.

"You must be eating irregularly, Lizzie. Look at you so thin," he said again, "we don't want you to get sick, darling."

I shook my head weakly, indicating that I was okay even without food, even though... my stomach acid had been crawling since yesterday. On the other hand, I wonder if I can pick up George this way when the world is no longer on my side.

"Elizabeth... life is not always at the top and not always at the bottom, son. I know maybe this is the lowest point in your life, but remember that your mother and father don't want their beloved daughter like this," said the doctor, very motherly. She is like that and considers me her daughter. "If you have a problem, tell us what you want, darling. We'll help you; we won't be angry."

My lips are still silent even though my brain is trying to piece together a long story about that night, about Billy's terror, and how devastated I am now. But... will Andre, by sharing this sad story, be able to restore the self-esteem and feelings he has destroyed? I am not sure. He is a great braggart who can spread a million charms to women. I don't know which other woman he is now luring to satisfy his desire.

"If you're ready to tell me, I'll come back, okay," decided Doctor Margaretha and left me.

I could only nod like someone who has no purpose in life without looking back at the doctor who volunteered to share his time in coming here. I turned around when Doctor Margaretha was at the end of the door and said bitterly,

"I'm so tired, Doctor. I want to die right now."