Stopped obediently behind the red line, I face the yellow stripe a little in front of my feet, and I breathe slowly, ignoring the dangerous and shiny tracks below where I am. Even without knowing where to go, I remain standing on the empty platform of the subway station, knowing that coming home alone will yield me nothing but more tears and inconformation. I need time, and I need to forget tonight, relieve the tension with a passage to any other place.
The big screen marks midnight and a half. It's only five minutes until the last subway appears, and there is no one but me, just under ten people squeezing themselves in their heavy coats, a police officer, a cleaner, and the attendant at the user call center.All this quietness leaves me on alert, as if none of this was right. I squeeze my overcoat around me, snuggling in the delicate and warm fabric. My tears still do me the favor of moistening the bar of my clothing, bothering the dots they touch on my skin. The inopportune by my own stupidity distracts me from a vital point in all the confusion that my life has just become: How can I warn my parents that I no longer need an embroidered dress and a dozen white doves, since there will be no wedding?I admit that although I have never had a healthy relationship with my family, I owe everything I am to them. If my troubled childhood is still impregnated in the decisions I make, I can say that I am shaped by my tragic memories. I have a greater tolerance to deal with difficult situations, as long as they do not directly involve what still haunts me.I try to convince myself that Dean's betrayal is just the tip of the iceberg. I repeat as a mantra that for me to sink completely, it takes much more than just a fuck with any bitch. However, that little girl knows that I'm only lying to keep her calm and distracted. We both know that a reason for a relapse is not always necessary.A look from a stranger? The purposeful bump of a beautiful woman? The lack of education of a co-worker? A nightmare where I wake up with cold and sticky from sweat? There is no concrete reason. Suddenly I am beyond the limit where I can wait for the train, on top of the yellow strip, staring at the tracks.The air abandons my body, and I catch myself panting, desperate for my lost breath. My eyes burn and crackle my vision, forging psychedelic shadows that mock my existence. My fingers curl up in my hands, closing them in a fist. I'm in crisis.I know enough escape to not give explanations. I know the perfect way out so as not to go through the embarrassment of facing my negligent family and my false co-workers. Everything would be easier if I just gave up. If I just stopped deceiving myself with futile and empty achievements. A successful job? Please, no one survives just for work.I have only one person who loves me the best she can, and she's a friend as crazy as I do. We share the feeling of looking for what we don't even know what it is. We laugh at the tragedies and mock our own fears, only to get rid of ourselves in tears in the loneliness of the night.The emptiness that exists within me is as old as the voice of a powerful entity. She calls my name, warms my soul, and gives me the courage to take another step.“Hey, you!” Scream a distant voice.One more step, I lower myself and jump on the tracks. Just two more minutes. One hundred and twenty seconds.“Girl, get out of there now!” Repeat your voice.Keep going, object to a ghost voice in my ears.“What is it that...”A bang makes me jump and stumble on my own feet. I fall with all the weight of my body, as if during my trance all my mass had turned into feather and returned as lead. The blow of the fall leaves me deaf from one ear, and that feeling of alert collides with my body again.I have goosebumps, gasping and wide eyes. My subconscious realizes before me that my deafness is not the result of such an innocent fall, because another bang sounds from my back, and, still kneeling on the uncomfortable hardware, I turn to find out.Screams propagate in confused waves inside my head. As persistent as I am to stand up, I can't and fall to my knees again. I look as much as I can, and I see the few passengers waiting for the train running in a shot to the exit. The policeman lies bloody on the floor, his eyes wide and opaque. A little far away, a man wields his gun to the back of one of the fugitive passengers and shoots.The bang makes me disde again, magnified by the echo of the empty season. I run and crouch close to the edge of the rails, taken by the survival momentum. The irony doesn't stop affecting me.“Don't leave witnesses, asshole. Go after them!” a hoarse and rough voice orders.Steps mix with so many others, and the metal staircase creaks through the hasty race of the one I assume to be the armed man.“Bring this mother fucker here.” A crawling sound approaches dangerously where I am. I cover my lips with one hand and hold my breath, praying that the advertising panels that reflect the entire surroundings of the station do not put me in focus. “Did you think you could escape from me, bastard?”A dusty, mean and unpleasant laugh reverberates in my bones, and I finally gain the courage to look at the reflection on the panels on the other side. A bald man with an imposing leather jacket leans over a shady body on the floor. Two other men remain on their backs, each looking to one side. One of them even approaches the yellow band, but doesn't bother to look down. Almost sigh relieved, however, when the body stretched on the ground moans and moves, the anguish dominates me again.“I thought you knew where you were getting into, Hunter. You can only stop working f
My eyes threaten to jump out of orbits, so growing is my astonishment.“How can you still be alive?” I question, strange how my voice sounds higher than usual. “And why the hell can this infernal night only get even worse?”A frantic activity begins on my back. Desperate passengers who unite to evaluate the dead policeman, security guards of the station itself who appear from the side doors as if all that time they were waiting for a triumphal entrance, and those who ignore the floor decorated with a generous trail of blood and untie in a blind race, in order to escape from any future confusion and encountering more bodies. I don't blame them, running away is exactly what I should have done.My survival policy has always been very clear: If something terrible is happening, and it's not my problem, I shouldn't get involved. My mistake was to hesitate for fear that this could further harm my sudden state of shock. The man wounded at my feet is partly to blame for this fact.Speaking of
The whistle of the winter wind whispers on my face, the touches as soft as the gentle caresses of a mother. Although refreshing, this does not ward off the fire on my tired legs and arms. My whole body throbs with pain."I can't take it anymore..." I complain softly, stumbling on my own feet. The man staggers and falls next to me, stalling on the ground like a rotten fruit. I try to feel sorry for your fall, but my muscles creak because of the effort and I don't allow myself to ignore pride. "You're too big, damn it!”Frustrated, I drag a lock of hair away from my face, and watch the stranger laugh with blood on his teeth and chin, as he crawls into a dark window that displays mannequin shadows wearing lingerie." Funny... "The unknown pulls the hair of brown locks with a lethargic movement of his hands, displaying in the moonlight each spine on his injured face. "You’re not the first woman to say that," he manages to throw a naughty smile.I bite my tongue, holding the urge to reply
"That wasn't quite what I expected for a Friday night," Penelope grumbles, snorting with the effort to sustain the weight of the unknown man among us."It serves as a consolation" I gave a grunt in response to the strong snap on my shoulders, where the man's arm rests itself "I would have preferred to suffer from a sad episode of the House of the Dragon in the company of a generous jar of ice cream than to try to save the life of a stranger.”Pulling the mild air into my lungs with a difficult swallow, I face the illuminated facade of the hospital, reminding me that there was no longer a cold breeze involving us when Penelope parked the car close to the curb of the Lingerie store to save us, ten minutes ago.The man passed out with his head hanging softly to the side, however, remained cold and inert. My friend helped me put it in her car, and I couldn't be more grateful for not hearing any complaints from her about all the blood that soaked the man and his clothes. During the trip, I
The receptionist looks away with a curious shyness and I lean over to completely see Penelope's face. Here is the purest face of my friend; the unwavering impulse to win the attention of those who conquer yours. Judging by the blush on the girl's cheeks behind the counter, I'm sure it's working.Penelope is not the kind of person who can describe herself as demanding. She lies with both men and women, having a greater preference for her own gender. All his art of conquest focuses on the depth of his black iris look and the beautiful smile he reserves only for those who draw his attention. In the middle of twenty-five years of age, she can already have a collection of hearts in need of her sympathy, and the list only increases."Subscribe here... "ask the receptionist with one hand over the visitor's book.Penelope doesn't look away from the girl until she gives me the pen and takes the patient form. I realize that instead of the real name, my friend used a pseudo and, without blinking
I sigh, studying the surroundings of the empty waiting room. There is no possibility that my bad night may arouse interest in my mother, and talking about the end of the marriage will only give you the chance for your curses and offenses to be released.So I play my role.“He... Hm... He's in the shower now, mom... Is it something urgent?”“Oh, no...” Her tone is still so hard that I doubt very much that she has been convinced. "I just wanted to talk to him without you having to pass on the conversation. Something between mother-in-law and son-in-law, do you understand, baby? He didn't answer me all day and seems to have turned off his cell phone now... Sometimes I find it so strange that you never allow us to talk directly to him, his cousins were here earlier and agreed with me. If I didn't know my own daughter, I would swear that this whole story is a farce. "She sighs with false discouragement. "You look so downcast, especially tonight, it worries me so much, dear.”Lie... What she
"Simple, isn't it?” I say, ironic. "How can I find a fiancé out of nowhere, Pen? The marriage happens in less than four weeks, and all my relatives already believe that there has never been any man. If only they believed that I am a lesbian and that I invented this situation for fear of prejudice. But, no! Even that they don't think I'm capable, and I hate that they think I'm not capable of something... I can't lie for a long time and telling the truth at this point in the championship will only make everything worse! "I catch my breath with a strong archesh. "I don't know what to do...”"You'll find a solution, my friend.”"I'm not going to” I cry, feeling more fragile than ever. "This time I have no way out. The more time passes, the worse things get. Maybe it's a punishment, you know? Things go wrong like that. It's a punishment for my cowardice.”"You're doing that thing again..." she points out, impassive. "Breathe deeply, Suzy. No one dies for being betrayed, and surely a forced
The receptionist is no longer alone, and does not mind giving a concrete answer to my questions. His words are always evasive and short, and this, in addition to all the secrecy regarding the non-mention to the unknown patient, annoys me. My breakfast is as improvised as my nap, since I fill myself with snacks and juices from the vending machine, deliberately avoiding having to move away from the surroundings of the reception to look for the snack bar.My frustration lasts for two more long and endless hours, and Penelope emerges from one of the long corridors illuminated by strong lights, fluttering her pink dress and honey-colored hair. Her bag hangs next to her waist, drawing the contour of the canteen inside, however, Penelope still looks quite sober with her soft steps. A discreet smile pulls the corners of her lips before she reaches me, wraps her arm around my shoulders, and pulls me to the exit."I was talking to my mother's ex-boyfriend and I found out some things about her G