Chapter 3

-Dark, now it's your turn. Come on the middle.

I heard my name. Green strands fell over my face. It was Monday, so a week had passed since that memorable evening over the cliff. Walking around the town, being at university or work, whether I wanted it or not, I looked for a mysterious figure. Unfortunately, no one like this showed up once. I was frustrated. I couldn't sleep after a night, which had an impact on my education and work, as well as my well-being.

I didn't tell anyone about this meeting. I don't want to fall into trouble. And I didn't want to explain what I was doing there and why I went there at all. They wouldn't understand. I don't understand why I go there, or at least I don't want to think about it. I prefer to push this awareness deep into myself without facing a problem until it is necessary.

- Dark - I heard the voice of my lecturer. - Your turn. - He hurried me.

Mr. Werycz was the father of Theresa, my friend, and a lecturer in the Academy. It was after him that Tesa inherited her beauty. They both had dark hair and blue eyes. He was about forty, but no one would have given him more than thirty. I envied Tesa. She was intelligent and pretty. Unlike me. Me, waist-length green hair, plain blue eyes, and chubby cheeks. From my parents, whom I didn't know because they died when I was still little, I inherited a poor metabolism which meant I had to be careful about what I eat.

I could hear the murmur of everyone in the lecture hall as they turned and stared at me. I hated it. I liked being invisible. Life was a little easier back then.

I felt my cheeks heat up with embarrassment, so I stood up quickly, staring at the floor, almost running to the designated spot.

- What did you prepare? He asked me with a slight smile.

It was an additional project, created on the initiative of students of our faculty. I studied painting, but I also loved writing, so the choice was difficult. We could choose anything related to art. Some painted pictures, others sang, played an instrument, played a selected role, prepared a short film, etc.

- I w-wrote-t-re a p-poem. - I stammered under my breath, hoping he heard it and wouldn't make me repeat it.

I folded my hands in front of me in a protective position.

Did I tell you that fate hates me? Just.

- You can repeat? - He asked. - Just a little louder, okay, Dark? Take a deep breath. Don't be stressed.

As my friend's father, he knew I didn't like public speaking. He had known me all his life and was aware of my introverted personality which made it difficult for me to interact with other people. It made me only have one friend. If it weren't for her, I'd be completely lonely.

Tesa, however, had her own life and her friends. I understand. She was an extrovert. She was attached to people. Loneliness did not serve her. She was her enemy. She tried to introduce me to others twice.

She once dragged me to a nearby town for shopping and going to the movies. However, she did not mention that she had made an appointment with one more friend. When I found out by chance, I ran away. I panicked. I felt bad about it. I felt deceived and, explaining that I was feeling unwell since the morning, I apologized, wished them a nice day, got on the bus, and went home with tears coming to my eyes.

The second time we went to the beach. We were going to have a nice evening together, talking and laughing together. We lit a fire when her friends came. I felt cheated and hurt again. She could have warned me that she had a "date" and that her other friend and I were to be there for the support and appearance of a regular social gathering of friends. I was silent. She tried to talk to me. Only her, no one else. I looked into the flames of the fire or listened to the sounds of crackling, burning wood, and sea waves. At the first opportunity, I left her and ran away, explaining my morning work.

She didn't try more.

I knew that I was not very good company, so I did not call her when she had the opportunity to spend time with others. She will speak up herself when she feels lonely or needs a friend who will always listen to her, support her, let her cry on her shoulder, and never judge anything she does. A friend who will come to her in the middle of the night, if necessary, or travel several dozen kilometers to personally wish her a birthday.

I shook off my memories, coming back to reality.

- I wrote a poem. - I gasped, trying not to stutter or get the two words out of myself in one breath.

- Well. - He nodded. - Then we're listening. Start when you're ready.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and imagined myself alone. I stand barefoot on the edge of a cliff and my only companion is the wind, the sound of the waves, and the treetops. I felt the nervousness drain from me.

Reassured, I also announced:

- It is a poem by me and I called it "The Letter from the Unborn Child to the Mother".

And I started reciting.

"You closed my eyes to the world

You closed the door to life for me

Why did you do it?

You who carried me under your heart;

You who made me.

Why did you do it?

I have grown in you

I was part of you

And you killed me.

Why did you do it?

You sentenced me to death;

You have sentenced your Child to death.

Mother, are you sorry?

I could taste life

I could get to know this world

you took away my chances of life;

You didn't give me a chance

To taste the feeling of love.

You didn't let me cognize

What is good and bad,

Hatred or Regret

Joy or sadness;

You didn't let me say

These beautiful, magic words:

I love you.

Why did you do it?

You got rid of me irreversibly.

Why did you do that?

Why did you do it?

Mommy, why did you kill me?"

Silence. Nobody said anything. Nobody moved. I opened my eyes. Everyone stared at me in surprise. There was no mockery. They did not laugh. Just silence. Dead silence.

Anxiety overwhelmed my whole body. What if I overdid it? What happened to my head? I shouldn't be sharing it. I could sing something. Or paint. But no. I always have to stand out. Everyone's gossiping about me now. I've heard these rumors already. "Look, it's that gray mouse who wrote such a terrible poem as part of the project! She wanted to be a poet! " And laughs. They will be.

Fear took over all of me. I backed away, not towards my place, but the door. I saw that Mr. Werycz was saying something, but no words reached me. They were as if muted. As if someone had turned the radio wrong. I could feel the tears streaming into my eyes. I put my arms around myself. I hit something. Or rather someone. But I didn't turn around. I just mumbled a silent apology and, without lifting my head, turned and ran out into the empty hallway. The classes were still going on, so no wonder no one was there. Better for me. I was running without having a specific direction. I knew I would have to go back. My bag was left in the lecture hall. But I didn't care about it yet.

I was running, tears running down my cheeks. My eyesight was blurry, but I didn't stop for a moment. I wanted to be as far away from here as possible. In a place where I could calm down. In a place, no one looks at.

I found myself in front of the entrance to the roof of the building. Standard. You could have guessed it. The door was open. If you think about it, they probably never closed.

I ran up the stairs and out into the open. An icy blast of wind hit my body, making me shiver.

"Cold. Ugh. " I thought.

However, it did work. All the stress was gone from me. I felt light. Empty. And emotionless. I walked slowly to the edge of the roof. I looked down at the deserted courtyard. Soon, waves of students from various faculties will pour out on it, rushing to the next classes or lectures.

I stood there for a few minutes, staring at the rooftops of nearby buildings. This place was soothing to me.

Negative thoughts have gone away. All thoughts vanished from my mind. I wasn't thinking about anything. I only felt.

Relieved, I turned to go back.

"It can't get any worse than always, can it?" I was comforting myself.

And I screamed.