It was 10:15 in the morning. I was standing on the roof, gazing down at the school courtyard. I saw boys whose voices filled the school grounds with a clamor. I spotted an empty bench nearby, where Sareh and I used to sit and talk about our dreams. We both knew that fate had written a different story for us, yet we persisted in our fantasies; we were just two eleven-year-old girls, unaware of how cruel life could be.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I returned home and put on my black clothes and a white shawl that had long been lying forgotten in a corner; I brushed the dust off it though I didn’t know what I was trying to prove. I opened the door and descended the steps one by one, pacing restlessly. Now I had reached the supermarket near the school. From here, it was only a few kilometers to that white gate covered in graffiti. I dared not go any further. Now, only the width of the road separated me from the school. I looked across the street and told myself: “Go on, die, but don’t turn back. Go. Perhaps a car will run you over, leaving no trace of you behind.” But I was terrified. I wasn’t brave enough, not even for death.
I stared across the road at that vast courtyard and wondered: “Is there really no room for me on this huge courtyard? Not even the tiniest bit of space?” And the same words repeated: “Go, Hadia, go and die, don’t come back.” Yet I was still afraid.
I couldn’t stay here any longer. I wiped my tears away and turned back. But I didn’t return alone; with every step toward home, I dragged the earth along with me. Now, the earth and its people moved home with me. And the farther I got from school, the heavier the earth became, heavier and heavier until I could no longer feel my legs.
The cursed earth wouldn’t let me go!
Again, I told myself: “Go, Hadia, go, go and die, don’t come back.” But I couldn’t; I simply couldn’t, and I kept on dragging the earth along.
As the earth refused to let go, I screamed in my mind: “Let me go! Let me go! Just let me go!”
But the earth and its people gripped my legs even tighter, forcing me to drag them with me. I couldn’t hold out; I wasn’t strong enough to overcome the earth and its people. I collapsed to the ground, doubled over. I felt the earth mocking me: “Look, I have bent you; I have defeated you.” And its people were laughing with a wicked glee. I just wept and wept, telling myself I was no match for any of them!
They stood united, while I alone had burned up in an unequal battle!
But eventually, I had to rise. I was forced to stand up. And I did rise, but at what cost? Yes, I rose, yet I still couldn’t feel my legs; the echo of their wicked laughter still rang in my ears. I wept bitterly, helplessly, unable to do a thing. I felt pain in every fiber of my being. And my shoulders were so heavy; I couldn’t square them and declare: “Yes, this is me; I am still standing.” But what could be done when the burden is so crushing? I was forced to remain quiet amidst all the pain.
A lump formed in my throat: a heavy, constricting lump; it felt as though my throat was bound in wire that burned so fiercely. Once again, I swallowed down a thousand unspoken words.
The cursed, endless road stretched on; I walked and walked, dragging that burden along with me.
Finally, I reached home and those stairs again. I climbed them one by one, while my mind kept urging me: “Go, Hadia. Go. Go die and never come back.” But I couldn’t. I reached the cursed front door and opened it; I still wore those black clothes I couldn’t bring myself to part with.
I was in mourning; after all, I laid myself to rest in the grave a few minutes ago…
But how does it end?
How does this story conclude?
With the strange silence of the times and people. Yes, with the strange and ruthless silence of the times and people.
