how to saved a life

      She cried again. A heartbreaking cried. Not loud, purely soft torturing cried that is trying to tell me her heart has been ripping out forcedly from her chest.

         I just stand and watch her quietly. She is crawling in the corner of the room, half-naked. Her white skin is like glowing in the dark, providing pale-dry light. Her position is awkward, unbearably spoken. She’s might been there for hours.

         Her room is chaotic, stating her mind now. Ship wrecked. Tornado strikes. I don't know. I can't tell. I know the room will spare the details. 

         The room is the only witness of her story. Sadly, it cannot speaks nor provide suggestion to the owner. The owner speaks often to the room. She expressed her feelings in any conditions, whether is good or bad. She knows the room will never protest when it’s being mistreat by her and will keep her secrets safely.

         Like now, the wall is screaming her anger statements. It’s full with frustration handwritings in black and red paints. The naked floor covered with her pile of stuffs. Torn papers, pictures, cigarette ashes, empty and half-empty alcohol bottles, breaking glasses are all flying across the room.

         I looked at her rainbow colorful bed. The rainbow reminds me of her colorful life. The sheet is white dove and stained all over. Reddish purple, brown or yellowish stains were spoiling the sheets pure color. Could be from wine, ink, food or blood?  Whatever it was, it doesn't looked good to me.

         

         I took a glance at the small plastic bottle standing on top of little counter next to her bed. It’s prescribed as an anti depression pills. I read the label, Xanax. Does it really help? I wondered.

         The air is thick with dreariness, deadly cold. I sense manic depression here.  It’s below zero out there and the heater is dead.   

         There she goes, crying again in darkness, says the room.

         I looked away from the dull scenery, paying full attention back to the almost naked girl that is still lie down awkwardly in the corner.  I watched her sadness, try to feel her emotions and say,

         “My poor little girl."

         The room continued, this is not the first time; this is not the first time.

         I nodded agreeably with the room. This is not the first time, I know. I've been here plenty of times, haven't you forgot?

         Please take her with you. I cannot stand to witness her sorrows no more. I know every time you come over she wanted to go along. Why not let her? It is her wish. You could save her from insanity, the room is demanding.

         That is not me to decide, I answered.

         Let alone the room with its confusion, I begin my ritual. 





                                                                                  *******************





         I pulled my self closely next to her. Lying on the floor, I give comfort and kiss her soft black hair gently. She is not responding.

         “What have the world done to you now?" I whispered.

         “Another love breaking story," she replied, sobbing.

         “With a jerk that’d I thought I could spend the rest of my life with. My fairy tale knight of shinning armor, my prince charming," says her again.

         I put my self-facing her now. Observing more deeply, exploring her sadness. 

         I run my fingers through her face. She is so devastated. Her face is pale like white paper. Her skin is losing the light. I looked deep inside her soul through her swollen eyes. Its shows no reaction, telling me there's nothing left no more. This face of devastation ... however such a pretty face she has, I thought. It has a very nice structures and each part of it is perfectly placed. Why is so sad? Why surrender?

         “I lost my mind that made him gone."

         “No, you are not," I replied her softly.

         “I’ve been talking alone for long time, drowning in my insanity.  I cannot help it no more, I want to ended this pain, please do let me ..., “her dried lips spoken, white and bluish and begging. She looked so painful. Is that love so painful? Isn't it supposed to be wonderful and tickling your mind up to the seventh heaven?

         “Just because of love?" I asked.

         “And now you want to give it all up?" 

         “I’m just a wasted forgettable flesh. Just nothing," she starts crying again.

         “He ran away from me. He can't stand me. I'm too depressing for him."

         “I want to ... I want ...  I want .... I need to ... chase him down; even to the moon if that has to cost me."   

         “Just give my life back, bring Wilson back ...," she sobs and shouted.

         There she goes starts’ babbling non-sense again, says the room.

         She cannot chase him to the moon. Such a ridiculous thought, says the room again sarcastically.

         “Please do stop self pitying your self," I embraced her.

         “You know that's not true. He never ran away from you, he loved you too much."

         I hold her tight; only wish she could feel it inside. Heartbreaking cry become louder, wakening the calmness winter night.

         She is not listening to me. Her bare shoulder is shaking heavily. Her swollen eyes producing small pond created from her repentance tears.

         I looked up the window. Look into the night skies; look into the dark clouds up there. Try to figure out some answers for her. Some hope, strength and miracle from up above.



         Suddenly the moon beauty is softly shinning through the ceiling glass of her window. I lifted my face to the moon and for a moment, I thought the moon is smiling back.  The moon is responding to her wish.     

         I kissed her forehead. There is hope to live and be alive again.

         “This is not your time my dear, don't end up now. Wake up from your nightmare."

         As if I felt her stares into my eyes, I feel her responding to my words. She started stop her painful cry.

         “Good girl. Be calm now," my deep low voice whispered too closed to her mouth, almost touching her lips.

         She's looking at me, but I know she's not. It's not important for me, as long she can forget her misery.

         The magic is working. She's under the spell now. Her body stopped shaking. Her cry slowly faded. Finally, it’s gone. It has ended. She felt tired instantly, closing her eyelids all the sudden. Her half-naked body is resting motionless in the corner of the room.





                                                                                  *******************





         I don't know for how long the spells will last, I expected that she could break free from the bondage. Accepting the fact that her man is gone forever not in the proper way, an overdosed drug addicted.

         

         On that tragic day, she’s treasured with his suicidal note saying,

I love you too much, that I cannot stand to make you unhappy with my selfishness behavior. I'm sorry I have to hurt you this way, such a cowardly act. You'd be better off with me. I think of you on my way to the moon. I love you. I love you always. Please forgive me, Candace. -- Wilson --   

         From that moment, Candace knew she couldn’t be the same person like before. She became worst. Candace blamed herself for Wilson's tragic death. She can't accepted the death because only her, one and only, never paid detail attention, ignoring the facts that her man was dramatically transformed to sad person, make friends with loneliness and drugs.

         She was, at that time, too caught up with her career ladder and created such a "perfect nice peaceful" life just according to her, the only primarily matter compared to her man's state of mind. She denied the trouble even when she has already smelled it and knew something was not right. She denied the fact that Wilson was a drug addicted. She denied the facts even until the very end of her man's life.

         She's avoiding the world that will connect her memories to Wilson, although that would have to involved her family, colleagues, friends and close friends on the circle. She built a huge wall and drew heavy borderline separating her pasts and her world now. She's wrapping herself tightly, burying her self with countless tasks. She's like dead walking person, living and never wake up from her nightmare.

         She is not a crazy person. Manic depressive is most likely suits her label. Candace is normal. Most of days, she stays sober and wide awake productive. In fact, she is a neurologist. She enjoyed helping people with her abilities and special skills although she doesn't like building connections and bridges anymore.

         When she's alone and her emotion crumbled, the room is becoming the target of her sick mind thoughts. Even so, she treated her room as the most sacred place amongst other places in her world.     

         I visited her room too often. Mostly finding her almost killed herself. Luckily, in the end it never happened. Rituals helped and as I always said to the room, plenty of times, her time is not coming yet. 

         I do not know how it feels to be Candace. I cannot put my self in her shoes. I am a different creation with different space to live and different purposes. I am not human; God’s foremost loving creation.

         I am witnessing human when they fall in love, excitedly happy, extremely sad, full of anger, hurting or being hurt, in pure ecstasy or any other emotions that human have the privileges to possessed. I cannot enter the world of emotions; I just met them in the surface and finding my way to absorbs.



         I worked some small miracles to the room. I threw out her little storm on the floor, anything that can sway her to hurt herself again. The statements on the wall still there, but I know it cannot harmed her. It is like her diary. 

         I put the heater on, inviting warmth and coziness. I lit the candles, it’s good to have luminous in this damped darkness.

         I covered her nakedness with warm blanket, moved her to the clean white dove sheet and rainbow bed. The stains are gone.

         Before I go, I kissed her in the forehead again. Her swollen eyes are now closed. She is sleeping peacefully. 

         “Tomorrow will be another bright day for you, " I whispered to her ear.

         She replied me with soft snoring as if saying 'yes'. 

         You will make another trip here soon. You know it, says the room.

         I will certainly do. We will meet again, I replied calmly.

         Then head my way back towards the luminous light.









                                                                              **** THE END ****