I have no real recollection of the last two weeks of my life. I'm sitting in my living room, staring out of the window. I'm alone, and this doesn't feel like home anymore. It's too empty, and I can't hear her voice anymore. My light is missing from my life. It's been two weeks since Jenny left me and went to live with her parents. Two weeks since I got so drunk I was almost successful in my plans, but somehow I ended up in a hospital.
I don't really remember how many days and nights I spent just lying under that boat on the beach. And I don't know how I got here. But at some point during that time, Jenny must have visited and taken all her stuff. Her keys were on the kitchen table. All her clothes -- and all other stuff -- are gone. I wish she took more. It's not like I have any use for this. Now, everywhere I look just reminds me of her.
There's nothing in the fridge, there's really nothing in this apartment that I need. To be fair, there's nothing anywhere anymore that I need. I grab all my keys, and head out. I don't know where to, but I know what I need to do first, as much as it'll hurt.
It takes me an hour to arrive at Jenny's. A drive that should have taken a max of five minutes. I stay in the car another few minutes to just collect my courage. I grab all my apartment keys and head to the door. It takes me all my strength to press the doorbell, but after a few minutes, I manage to do it. I just wish it's not her that answers, but her mother. But as usual, luck is something I don't have. She opens the door and almost jumps back. She's dressed in a really cute white camisole, and cozy pants. I swallow hard and try to steel my mind.
"E-Emilia...?" she stutters.
Her being almost a foot shorter than me makes her look really tiny. Her bright blue eyes being so wide open and her absolutely perfect small lips quivering slightly takes all my resolve to not hug her and ask for her forgiveness. But that's not why I'm here. I hold my closed hand to her and she answers almost automatically by placing her open palm under mine. I drop the keys in her hand, which makes her look even more surprised and puzzled.
"I'm moving, Jenny. There's still some stuff there. Go take anything you need."
"Moving...? Where?"
"Away."
"Emilia..."
"Don't."
"But..."
"Don't, Jenny." I say and turn around. "It's not your fault, Jen. Whatever happens, remember, it's not your fault."
I take a couple of steps, and then add, almost silently, "I love you." Then I walk to my car.
She tries to say something, but I don't hear it. I get to my car when I see she went inside and grabbed her shoes. She's almost running here, so I fumble and try to start the car. She nearly reaches the door, but I manage to lock the doors before.
"Emilia!" she yells and hits the car window with her hand. Tears are flowing from her eyes, and she seems to be almost panicking.
"Goodbye." I mouth to her, and drive away.
From the rear-view mirror, I can see that she ran after me for a while, but then stopped. She fell to the ground and just looks after my car speeding away. It hurts. Every part of my body and mind hurt to see her like that, but this needed to be done. She deserves more than I could ever give her. And it was her that dumped me, after all. She said I hurt her too much, and she was right. It's better that way.
It's possible she figured out what I'm doing. She did know me more than I knew myself, occasionally. But even she couldn't know how it feels to be trapped in your own body, never being able to be yourself. In another world, we could have been happy. A proper lesbian pair, in love and happy. But not in this world. Not in this world where I'm ... whatever this is. A monster.
I stop at a random gas station, fill up my car, and pick an armful of snacks for the road. Then I start driving. I don't have a destination. I don't have a route planned. I'm just gonna drive until I can't anymore. For the next several hours, I just drive, not really paying attention to where I'm going. A couple of hours ago it got dark, but it doesn't really matter. I only stop when I need to pee. It's some kind of 24h gas-station-come-restaurant at the side of a highway.
I get to the bathroom and -- as always -- the reality hits me in the face. Or more like kicks me in the crotch. I sit on the toilet and cry. I don't care if anyone hears me or not. It's not like I care. I just can't deal with this. Every time I need to pee is like the universe landing a right hook under my chin, and then chuckling at my agony. I try to distract myself, and go through my handbag. But it has the absolutely opposite effect when I spot my medication there. I thought I left them at the apartment, but I guess I'm too used to grabbing them with me always.
After doing my business, I get up and stare at the pill bottle and the packet of patches. Shrugging, I just empty the pills into the toilet, watching them disappear into the water. I chuck the packet of patches in the trash bin, and then exit. I go and grab a hot chocolate and a sandwich from the restaurant.
"That'll be 7.90, sir." The cashier says.
I stare at her. This was the last thing I needed. Slowly, I look at myself. From my heels, my frilly black skirt, to my pink shirt that barely hides my bra cups, but shows my shoulder straps. In slow motion, I turn my gaze from myself to the cashier. He has a plastic, forced smile on his face.
"Really?" I manage to utter.
"I'm sorry. That'll be 7.90, lady." He says and stresses the word with a grin on his face.
I drop my hot chocolate and the sandwich on the desk and turn away, tears burning in my eyes. It's not like I bothered with makeup, but it still hurts. It hurts so much. I sit in my car and slam my head on the steering wheel and cry. My tears flow across my cheek and onto the steering wheel, and into my lap. I take a deep breath, turn the car stereo up as loud as I can, start the car, and just go.
I never drive over the limit, but when my meter shows 140 in a 100 area, I just grin. It feels somehow freeing to not care. It's not like there will be people driving here at this time of the night. I open the last bag of candies that I had. I sign along with Avenged Sevenfold's "Nightmare" and agree with them wholeheartedly.
Two hours later, in the early morning, I find myself in another city. I have no clue what city it is, and I don't care. I stop the car in a parking lot, which appears to be next to a train station. Maybe I'll just take the train somewhere?
There's only one other person there. An old woman, sitting on a bench and knitting. She glances at me and shakes her head and makes a disapproving expression, then turns back to her knitting. I hear a train coming in the distance, and then my phone buzzes. I take it out, expecting it to be Jen, but then I remember I blocked her. But it's the hospital. The train is closer now, but it's just on its way somewhere. It's not slowing down.
"We are notifying you that due to recent developments with your mental health diagnosis, we are forced to cancel your upcoming surger--"
I close my eyes and take a step.
ns 15.158.61.39da2
