Chapter One

I look at myself in the mirror and I don't recognize myself, the hair on my shoulder, the three-day-old dark circles and my face hollowed out because I haven't been able to swallow anything for two days. And how to do it? Remember makes me convulse, thinking kills me every second Will this ever end? No, I must not deceive myself, I know that for this there is no way out, there is no end. My actions led me to die little by little every day. I go to the sink and drink water with my hands while trying not to think, which I can't. I retrace my steps to my room and I sit down to wait for an answer, something. As always nothing comes, maybe I can achieve a definitive ending. Isn't that what I want? Yes, but not in this way. The pill boxes are next to me and they seem to smile at me, they call me with little voices!

Take us! I want to listen to them, but I can't. I can not. I want to believe it, I want to think that there is still a fighting light in me, something. I lie to myself. How not? I have been lying to myself for years, thinking that things would be better, how much I have been wrong. I've been fighting a monster for five years, myself.

I grab my head Should I take them? Should? Yes? No? My mind is a whirlwind, it's barely three in the afternoon and I know I'm finished, everything around me collapsed, absolutely everything. Perhaps I wait for a sign, the destiny that speaks to me and tells me! Don't do it! Who am I kidding? I have no one, everyone has died, everyone is already in another place, I was born alone and I will die in the same way, dust you are and dust you will be. I repeat those phrases to myself several times before taking the first box. I spin it between my trembling fingers, almost unconsciously I take the first pill and let it rest in the palm of my hand while I tell myself that it is a wise decision, rather a correct one. I go back to the sink and I look at myself in the mirror one last time, I put the pill in my mouth, it's time, there is no turning back. The telephone rings.

I turn to look in the mirror. ¿Is it the phone? Yes? I still can not believe it. I look at my reflection still lost. Is it the fucking phone? The machine sounds incessantly across the room, from one moment to another my feet have started to walk, my brain still does not make the connection, I walk to the machine and before taking it something in me breaks, perhaps if it is the destination.

Yes? "I speak in a shaky voice and mentally berate myself for it.

"Am I talking to Emma?" A cold voice rings out on the other end of the phone.

-Yes ..- I answer after a few seconds, I still can't swallow that the phone rang.

-You speak with Jeanne Nizzari, I'm ...

-I know who you are-I spoke surprised, my brain makes connection in a matter of seconds. The voice on the other line does not respond for a few seconds and I am sorry I ruined the conversation.

"Very well, tomorrow at my residence at seven, I detest being late," she says neutrally and then hangs up. Have you cut my line? Several minutes have passed and I still have the earpiece to my ear listening to a dead line. I manage to get out of my slight paralysis and leave the receiver where it was, I still can't believe it, seconds before I swallowed the first pill the phone rings. I can still take the others, says a dark side of my mind, but my other side is the one that wins, I can't continue with my rush, not if the phone has rung, no. I retrace my steps to the sink and stare at myself, there are things that I find difficult to process and this is one of those. If the phone had rung an hour later, everything would be different.

My mind begins to remember Why did Jeanne Nizzari call me? I make a mental effort to remember my day, my week. But only my mind returns to the memories of going to the pharmacy, buying the pills. Staring at the pills for days and making the decision this morning to put an end to my days. Come on, remember. I remember being at home the day before last, an elderly person calls me and tells me to go to a direction, says it is the interview for the job. What job? I go towards the house, a lady with a cheerful smile welcomes me, I remember being impressed by the house, it was beautiful, the house was beautiful. The woman takes me to a living room and gives me a glass of water. She starts asking me questions. What job is it? The woman introduces herself, says she is Mrs. Jeanne's housewife, says that she must go away and cannot take care of the little girl anymore. What little girl? My brain reconnects, it's a babysitting job, I went to an interview to be a babysitter.

With my memories to the day I return to reality, it hits me like a bucket of cold water, I have been unemployed for more than a month, the accounts suffered, the money runs out. Without thinking I bite my nails and again the feeling of lack of control that my life has been carrying for years returns, I have nothing, I have no one. I spend the night awake, used to it, I only see the center of my room and myself consuming myself in it, when I look at the clock it is five in the morning, the pills are still there, waiting. I take a bath that instead of relaxing makes me more nervous. How can I take some jeans, a T-shirt, which I wore most of the days and luckily they are clean. I look at myself one last time in the mirror and take the keys, it's six in the morning. I take the bus with considerable time and I watch the houses go by, I am distracted by my own thoughts and for the first time in a long time I allow myself to think about my future. Does that they call me mean that they gave me the job? Do I have a job? Considering that possibility encouraged me remarkably, this was my life, a constant ups and downs of emotions that always kept me on the edge of the abyss. My mind remembers the pills that are still waiting for me in my small apartment, I try to distract myself by looking around me and I see the faces of most of the passengers, who just wanted to reach their destination, some were sleeping, others looking at nothing, I was one of the last. I get off a couple of stops later and begin to walk south, at least my memory does not fail at the moment and I remember the residence perfectly, it stands imposingly at the end of the street, a huge wall covers most of the place, I touch a button on the side and after what seems like an eternity a tall, thin man opens the door for me.

-I'm ... the babysitter-I say without knowing what to say, the man nods and makes a sign for me to follow him, I walk behind him looking around me as absorbed as the first time, the place is huge, the garden is the size of my entire apartment and the residence looms behind like a cold, lifeless building. When we get to the door he ushers me in and tells me to wait in the living room while the lady comes downstairs. At that moment I realize that I am seconds away from meeting one of the most famous women in the country. Jeanne Nizzari, owner of a multinational real estate company. My mind wanders What will it be like? I remember but I don't remember his face, nor his age. I only know her from having heard from time to time on television about her, rather almost nothing, only from her prestigious company and how recognized it is. I bite my lower lip like a nervous tic that I usually do, I observe the place and it seems endless. Everything seems expensive and exaggeratedly flashy, I see paintings that are too old and objects that will surely cost thousands of dollars. Even so, I leave my detours when I hear footsteps coming down somewhere, I try to listen and the footsteps approach from my right, I take a breath and see for the first time the figure of a woman.

Blonde, tall, has a normal body but her face is what most catches my attention, it is a cold, hard face, devoid of any sympathy. He approaches without raising his gaze because he is wearing it on his cell phone, I feel uncomfortable in the presence of an important woman, that a simple sight is more important to the object than my presence there. When he lifts his gaze I feel a chill run through me, his eyes are as empty as his expression, I feel nervous before an imposing woman with a hard gaze who now has me between her eyes. I feel strange about her silence, I dare to take a look at her body and indeed she dresses like an elegant woman, dressed to the knees and long heels, even so the only thing that catches my attention is her expression, she seems lost in her Thoughts, I roll on my feet uncomfortably, I don't know what to say, I don't know what to do. The woman seems to be comfortable looking at me from her position, analyzes me from head to toe and returns to my eyes. Will it always be like this? Do you look at all people that way? When I feel like I can't stand silence anymore, the woman speaks.

"You must be Emma," he says, taking a step forward but still looking at me, now his cell phone seems to be in the background, it no longer exists. I nod, not knowing what to answer exactly, his expression makes me somewhat curious, his eyes do not leave mine.

-You can take a seat-he makes a sign to me and I obey immediately, I take place in the middle of a long sofa and lower my gaze for a few seconds, perhaps it's because Jeanne Nizzari's gaze weighs on me in a strange way.

-I cannot stay long, but I have decided that you are the nanny of my niece Marie, she is four years old and her mother, my sister Alisa -he emphasizes- is traveling, so I am the one who is in charge of Marie for a few months , I need you to be meticulous with her care, Marie is small and does not understand certain things, you will have to take care of her until I arrive in the afternoon, even if it is necessary for some days to stay up late because my work usually takes longer -explains always serious, I listen Your words, the schedules, Marie's naps, my pay, which leaves me with my mouth open, since it is money that I did not expect to earn, rather exceeds my expectations and finally a quick tour of the whole place. Jeanne walks hurriedly and gives me to understand that she has no time for questions, she seems to have little patience since her eyes sometimes get angry when I ask questions, finally she shows me Marie's room and I see a little girl with blond curls sleeping peacefully on a bed perhaps too big for her alone. Immediately my heart softens and I know that so much innocence can conquer anyone, including me.

After the tour, Jeanne ignores my presence again paying attention to her cell phone, I allow myself to observe her more carefully and she seems to be angry about something, when she notices my insistent gaze, she raises her head and I blush. Why do I do it? When is looking at a person a crime?

-Well, you know what to do, we'll meet at six-seat and she leaves without looking at me. I take a breath and start a day that I thought would never live.