đđđČ, đđąđŻđ
There is an hour of the night when everything is silent, and the calm invades with force, overwhelms until it numbs feelings and dreams, and then there is nothing left, nothing of what we were, of what we are, of what we will be.
Just at that moment, I liked to think about what I could have been.
Closing my eyes I could see different scenarios, each one with a different story, more loving or funny, more daring or quiet, but none more unhappy, because everything has been taken away from me, even the opportunity to keep dreaming.
December 2019, a cold and starry night, I walked crestfallen towards the gift store, between the hustle and bustle of work and studies I had forgotten to buy the gift for Mick, my little brother, that unruly one who only argues with me about which cereal to buy or who will clean the dog's waste, the only being who accompanies me at home during the summer vacations.
I crossed the streets without paying attention, I had traveled the same roads since I was in my mother's womb, I felt calm while the carols were playing in the background and some families were shopping at the last minute, I had not brought Mick for obvious reasons, but now I regretted not having already told him who Santa was and give him the option to choose his gift, so we would share this evening.
But I had no time for more, I had a tangle of worries in my head, final exams, the anniversary of mom's death, dad's strenuous work, the remoteness of our relatives, the constant stalking of strangers, the increase in kidnapping and rape was something that altered my pulse, and now him, my boyfriend, the most dishonest being I have ever come across. I had no head for more, an infidelity had been the drop that would check the glass, the river, the lake, the ocean.
Walking around with that feeling of anguish is exhausting, as if your shadow transformed into something else in an oversight, I hated going out, just because I didn't feel safe.
I was wearing dark leggings, and a big sweater, and still the cold was seeping into my bones, I didn't want to show how weak I felt, but I sighed in relief as I entered the toy store in town. Mr. Heres was there, wearing his usual cardigan and rimmed glasses, he looked at me suspiciously and I almost laughed out of nervousness, he is not someone who generates warmth in you. I wandered into the aisles to pick out some toy that would be forgotten by January.
The noise of some motorcycles in front of the store started to make me sick to my stomach, the one I had loved for the last year had a hobby with them, we had not talked, he did not know I had discovered him, so I was thinking a lot about what to do. I found the green color of the shelves disgusting, as it was his favorite color, and the aroma of cigarettes gave me a headache, as he was addicted. I started sweating inside the store, grabbed the first box from the biggest cart they had and headed to pay.
Mr. Heres gave me a sly look, I almost stumbled as I stepped back.
âDo you feel bad?â
I shook my head, I had never been good at the simple process of communication, I lacked the courage to express my opinions, and I was so shy after my mother's death that I had become a hermit. I swallowed thickly, and pulled out my wallet, counted to ten and spoke.
âHow much is it?â
He took the box, and began to check out, he didn't say anything, but his movements were so slow that they distressed me. I wanted to go home, I wanted to leave now.
âYou should sit down, you look a little haggard, I have some tea back here, how about you rest for a while?â
He had little drops running down his forehead and nose, I was so disgusted that I couldn't answer. His hand came closer, he seemed to want to touch my shoulder, but he positioned himself heavily on the side of my neck, I was alerted. He came down so fast on my breast that I almost vomited on him, he didn't give me a chance to close his hand when he had already pulled back. I ran to the door shivering, and almost started to cry when it opened and the cold breeze hit my face.
I didn't have the courage to turn around, I couldn't even think. I would tell Mick the truth and tomorrow we would go to some mall. I kept repeating the same thought to myself as I walked as fast as I could back home. Vehicles were passing back and forth and the night was getting darker, when I visualized my street I started to run, I had a bad feeling eating me alive.
I saw a motorcycle parked in front of my house, the last thing I wanted was to talk to him, but I felt a sudden relief to see someone familiar that I burst into tears a corner before, I hugged myself and missed my mother like never before. I tried to breathe, to move forward, to go on, some lights behind me illuminated the neighborhood, there we are just a few meters away from finishing, because despite everything, I could not forgive him.
I took three steps, I only managed to take three steps when the car coming behind me hit me with force, it snatched me so much at once that the hatred growing in me keeps me tied to this miserable world. Mr. Heres, in an attempt to keep me silent, followed me in the car and ran me over close to home.
I have been in a coma for the last two years, no one knows the truth, my boyfriend still visits me without knowing how much I detest him, and Mr. Heres sends flowers of a hypocritical color, said he lost control of the car, and that he was going to my house that night because according to me I ordered him a toy. The police didn't bother to investigate the case, my father was too busy with work, now he had to pay hospital bills.
And Mick, poor Mick had been playing with the same damn car that degenerate passed off as mine for the last Christmas, he stayed with me from time to time and kept waiting for his sister, I wanted to wake up soon, I wanted to rip out this tube down my throat and get revenge.
I wanted to do so much, during that silence at night, I wanted to do everything, but in the end, I did nothing.
Existe una hora de la noche en la que todo estå en silencio, y la calma invade con fuerza, abruma hasta que adormece los sentimientos y sueños, y luego no queda nada, nada de lo que fuimos, de lo que somos, de lo que seremos.
Justo en ese momento, me gustaba pensar en lo que pude haber sido.
Al cerrar los ojos podĂa ver escenarios distintos, cada uno con una historia diferente, mĂĄs amorosa o divertida, mĂĄs atrevida o tranquila, pero ninguna mĂĄs infeliz, porque me han arrebatado todo, hasta la oportunidad de seguir soñando.
Diciembre del 2019, una noche frĂa y llena de estrellas, caminaba cabizbaja hacia la tienda de regalos, entre el ajetreo del trabajo y los estudios habĂa olvidado comprar el obsequio de Mick, mi hermano pequeño, ese revoltoso que solo discute conmigo por cual cereal comprar o quiĂ©n limpiarĂĄ los desechos del perro, el Ășnico ser que me acompaña en casa durante las vacaciones de verano.
Cruzaba las calles sin prestar atenciĂłn, habĂa transitado las mismas carreteras desde que estaba en el vientre de mi madre, me sentĂa tranquila mientras los villancicos sonaban de fondo y algunas familias hacĂan compras al Ășltimo momento, no habĂa traĂdo a Mick por obvias razones, pero ahora me arrepentĂa de no haberle contado ya quien era Santa y darle la opciĂłn de escoger su regalo, asĂ compartiriamos esta velada.
Pero no tenĂa tiempo para mĂĄs, tenĂa una maraña de preocupaciones en la cabeza, los exĂĄmenes finales, el aniversario de la muerte de mamĂĄ, el trabajo extenuante de papĂĄ, la lejanĂa de nuestros familiares, el acecho constante de desconocidos, el incremento en secuestro y violaciones era algo que me alteraba el pulso, y ahora Ă©l, mi novio, el ser mĂĄs deshonesto que me he cruzado. No tenĂa cabeza para mĂĄs, una infidelidad habĂa sido la gota que revisarĂa el vaso, el rĂo, el lago, el ocĂ©ano.
Andar con esa sensaciĂłn de angustia es agotador, como si tĂș sombre se transformara en otra cosa en un descuido, detestaba salir, solo porque no me sentĂa segura.
Llevaba unos leggins oscuros, y un suĂ©ter grande, y aĂșn asĂ el frĂo colaba mis huesos, no querĂa demostrar lo dĂ©bil que me sentĂa, pero suspirĂ© de alivio al entrar a la jugueteria del pueblo. El señor Heres estaba allĂ, con su habitual cĂĄrdigan y sus lentes de montura, me mirĂł con sospecha y casi me rio de los nervios, no es alguien que te genera calidez. Me adentrĂ© a los pasillos para escoger algĂșn juguete que en enero ya serĂa olvidado.
El ruido de algunas motos frente a la tienda me comenzaron a sentar mal en el estĂłmago, a quiĂ©n habĂa amado durante el Ășltimo año tenĂa una aficiĂłn con ellas, no habĂamos dialogado, Ă©l no sabĂa que le habĂa descubierto, asĂ que yo estaba pensando mucho en quĂ© hacer. El color verde de las estanterĂas me parecĂa repugnante, pues era su color favorito, y el aroma a cigarro me daba dolor de cabeza, pues Ă©l era adicto. ComencĂ© a sudar dentro de la tienda, cogĂ la primera caja del carro mĂĄs grande que tenĂan y me dirigĂ a pagar.
El señor Heres me miró con astucia, casi tropiezo al retroceder.
âÂżTe sientes mal?
NeguĂ© con la cabeza, nunca habĂa sido buena en el sencillo proceso de comunicaciĂłn, carecĂa de valor para expresar mis opiniones, y era tan tĂmida luego de la muerte de mi madre que me habĂa convertido en un ermitaño. TraguĂ© grueso, y saquĂ© mi billetera, contĂ© hasta diez y hablĂ©.
âÂżCuĂĄnto es?
Ăl tomĂł la caja, y comenzĂł a facturar, no decĂa nada, pero sus movimientos eran tan lentos que me angustiaban. QuerĂa regresar a casa, querĂa irme ya.
âDeberĂas sentarte, pareces algo demacrada, aquĂ atrĂĄs tengo tĂ© hecho ÂżquĂ© tal si descansas un rato?
Ăl tenĂa pequeñas gotas surcando su frente y nariz, me preducia un asco tan inmenso que no pude contestar. Su mano se acercĂł, parecĂa querer tocarme el hombro, pero se posicionĂł con pesadez a un costado de mi cuello, me alertĂ©. Bajo tan rĂĄpido a mi seno que casi le vĂłmito encima, no diĂł chance a quĂ© cerrara su mano cuando ya habĂa retrocedido. CorrĂ hacia la puerta temblando, y casi comienzo a llorar cuando esta se abriĂł y la frĂa brisa me golpeĂł la cara.
No tuve el valor de girarme, no podĂa ni pensar. Le dirĂa a Mick la verdad y mañana irĂamos a algĂșn centro comercial. Me repetĂa el mismo pensamiento mientras caminaba lo mĂĄs rĂĄpido posible de regreso a casa. Los vehĂculos pasaban de allĂĄ para acĂĄ y la noche se habĂa hecho mĂĄs oscura, cuando visualice mi calle comencĂ© a correr, tenĂa el mal presentimiento comiĂ©ndome viva.
Vi una moto estacionada frente a mi casa, lo Ășltimo que querĂa era hablar con Ă©l, pero sentĂ un repentino alivio de ver a alguien conocido que me echĂ© a llorar una esquina antes, me abracĂ© a mi misma y extrañé a mi madre como nunca antes. IntentĂ© respirar, avanzar, seguir, unas luces a mi espalda iluminaron el vecindario, allĂ estamos a escasos metros de terminar, porque a pesar de todo, no podĂa perdonarlo.
Di tres pasos, solo alcancĂ© a dar tres pasos cuando el carro que venĂa a mi espalda me impactĂł con fuerza, me arrebatĂł tanto a la vez que el odio que crece en mĂ me mantiene atada a este miserable mundo. El señor Heres, en un intento de manteneme en silencio, me siguiĂł en el carro y me atropellĂł cerca de casa.
He estado en coma los dos Ășltimos años, nadie sabe la verdad, mi novio aĂșn me visita sin saber cuĂĄnto lo detesto, y el señor Heres envĂa flores de un color hipĂłcrita, dijo que habĂa perdido el control del auto, y que esa noche iba a mi casa porque segĂșn yo le encargado un juguete. La policĂa no se preocupĂł en investigar el caso, mi padre estaba demasiado ocupado con el trabajo, ahora debĂa pagar facturas de hospital.
Y Mick, el pobre Mick habĂa estado jugando con el mismo maldito carro que ese degenerado hizo pasar como mĂo durante las Ășltimas navidades, se quedaba conmigo de vez en cuando y seguĂa esperando a su hermana, querĂa despertar pronto, querĂa arrancarme este tubo que atravesaba mi garganta y vengarme.
QuerĂa hacer tanto, durante ese silencio en las noches, querĂa hacer todo, pero al final, no hacĂa nada.
