THE END"

"There were those who were born,

there were those who died

, and there were those for whom that wasn't enough

(...)

who put a sharp weapon in your hand, you ordinary madwoman!"

excerpt from "Anathema to Death" by Edward Stachura

I slung my backpack over my shoulder and took one last look at my house. At the perfectly laid red paving stones, the flower beds watered every few days by the gardeners, the pristine white exterior, and my father, in a beige suit, smoking a cigarette on the porch. I closed my eyes to fix this sight in my memory like a Polaroid photo. I turned toward the exit gate.

"Adam! Where are you going?" I heard my father shout. I turned back one last time.

"To Marek!" I shouted back decisively. He nodded and took another drag.

I had no intention of going to Marek.

I was heading towards death.

*

I nervously tapped my fingernails on the wooden tabletop. The sound echoed hollowly through the nearly empty room. I alternated between frowning and running my hand through my hair. Out of nervousness. My eyes darted nervously between the four walls, stopping at the couch where Ania was sleeping. She was only four years old. She was still sucking her thumb.

I walked over to her and began stroking her face with my index finger. I waited for her to wake up. First, she removed the drooling finger from her mouth, and only then looked at me with unfocused eyes.

"Maja?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"Sunshine... you have sandwiches made in the kitchen. Today, before Daddy comes, Aunt Grażyna will pick you up, okay?" I explained. She nodded. I didn't know if it was with understanding or just to be safe. "I love you. "

I kissed her small, burning cheek.

"Me too!" she cried.

This time, I stroked her head. I whispered softly, "Sleep," until her black eyes closed again. When she fell asleep, I carefully got up and grabbed my backpack from the kitchen. I put on my leather jacket and left the house, casting a farewell glance at the soundly sleeping Ania. She looked like a little angel fallen from heaven.

I slowly walked away. With due solemnity, I said goodbye to the walls in which I had lived for so many years.

"Per aspera ad astra..." I said in farewell. Ania. For comfort...

***

A barn had stood on the side of the E-40 main road for time immemorial. It had once been a refuge for local drug addicts and prostitutes, but now even they were disinterested in this run-down shack. The air was filled with the repulsive smell of mustiness and old hay, which hadn't smelled of the delicate scent of the countryside for several years. It was also unknown who owned the building. Whether on purpose or through inadvertence – it is not known – this was not done.

The sun was gently setting, gently caressing the soundproof screens reminiscent of the Auschwitz walls with its rays. Supposedly, they were meant to absorb noise. A long stretch of the expressway was blocked by them.

Two kilometers along the road from the barn, there was an inn. The parking lot was always full of cars. The reason was obvious to those in the know.

A bottle-green Opel pulled up to the inn's walls. It stopped between two poplars that dotted the parking lot. The driver played the radio softly.

A few dozen minutes later, a girl emerged from the car.

She buttoned the last buttons of her rather skimpy blouse and pulled down her skirt. She slung her backpack over her shoulder.

"Money," she said dryly, glancing into the car through the half-open door. The petite brunette avoided the man's gaze as he reluctantly searched for his wallet in his pants.

"What would you say if I told you I wouldn't pay you? That I wasn't satisfied with the service?"

She didn't answer.

The man smiled, revealing a row of perfect, white teeth. He pressed his tie to his neck and looked at her expectantly. She still didn't look at him. She was more intimidated than ever. The man had finally stopped teasing her. He pulled a thick leather wallet from the glove compartment.

"Are you new to this business?"

She shook her head.

"Aha," he sighed. "Here you go!" he said with exaggerated politeness, winking at her, and handed her a bill. She didn't see it. "

It costs more. For a special service..."

"Special, you say... if you weren't so young, so fresh, and so delicate, I wouldn't have noticed this special service. But here you go... "

He handed her another bill.

"Call if you need anything," he winked again. She turned on her heel and, without a word, walked toward the building. Her high heels clattered loudly on the concrete slabs. When she reached the stairs, she saw familiar faces. Girls with no hopes for anything in life, caring only about the near future. Beneath the tons of powder, eye shadow, and mascara lay the most ordinary girls and the most ordinary, down-to-earth emotions.

"Hi, Majka!" the tallest of them shouted, making sure she was heard. She turned her head, but didn't stop for a moment. She waved.

"Not today, please..." She disappeared through the doorway, leaving the girls with their surprised expressions.

She didn't greet the receptionist, but instead rushed to the bathroom. She splashed water on her face to wash away the traces of life. Traces of the life that had so troubled her and which she had so ruined. She didn't look in the mirror... she didn't want to.

Once she had freshened up and somewhat tidied up, she walked toward the guest tables at the bar. She sat down on a wooden chair upholstered in purple fabric. She began searching for something in her backpack.

"You're leaving!" she heard a firm voice say. She raised her head and saw the waiter's face, pointing at the door, clutching an empty tray under his arm. "You know you can't be inside!"

Hostility radiated from every word. Each one hurt her especially today. Not only was she filled with self-hatred, but everyone around her was proving to her that she was trash. That they could toss her around as they pleased. First the man in the car, and now this one...

"I just want to send a letter," she said, carefully removing a white stamped envelope from her backpack. The waiter, silently, went to the other table to take their order.

In her crooked hand, she scribbled the address. Then she placed the banknotes the man had given her in the envelope. She licked the edge, then stamped them again—just to be sure. She didn't need the money anymore. Not at all. She gently slipped the envelope into the guest mailbox hanging in front of the door, then walked toward the girls.

"I have a favor to ask. Just remember it carefully..."

"I don't understand..." one said, frowning. "Well, fine. As you wish. What's the matter?"

"Tell Marcin I don't want to know him."

"What are you talking about? You...

" "No," she interrupted. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. "Tell him there will never be anything between us again."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Tell him, okay?"

She nodded. Maja said goodbye to the girls and then headed home. However, as she crossed the intersection, she didn't turn onto the road leading to her town. She continued on—on the expressway, right next to the cars. After walking for three hours, she spotted an inconspicuous shed behind the screens.

"That's it!"

She turned right and slipped through the passage between the screens. A moment later, she reached an abandoned shed. She kept quiet, though there was no apparent need to. When she approached the gate, she saw it was open. She ran her fingertips over the rough wood. She rested her forehead against the board. She bit her lip. Breathing heavily, she pushed open the large door. It was very dark inside. The only source of light came from the uneven gaps between the boards that made up the shed. She was afraid of this place. It was unfamiliar, unwelcoming, and besides, it was supposed to be her last. Everything happened as if in slow motion.

She looked around the new place and tossed her backpack into a corner.

Her eyes had already adjusted to the darkness.

Suddenly, something moved in the corner. She screamed in terror and instantly clung to the cinderblock wall, which was covered in a thick layer of cobwebs. Her heart wanted to leap from her chest. Things calmed down only when a black-and-white cat jumped out of the corner and scampered toward the exit. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"What happened!?" she heard another sound. Not a sound – a voice! She screamed again and began to back away. She reached the door and once again scanned the interior of the shed.

"Why were you screaming?" the same voice spoke to her again. She could have fled at any moment, but she made it a point of honor to find the source of the voice. She didn't have to wait long. A boy, a few years older than her, emerged from the darkness and stood before her with a strange expression.

For a moment, she couldn't find the words.

"Who are you? The owner?" she answered the question with a question.

"No," the boy laughed. "But that's funny... I wanted to ask you the same thing."

She wasn't laughing at all.

They were silent for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say.

"What are you doing here?" the boy broke the silence first.

She didn't know what to say. She didn't want to appear polite, truthful, or good. She never had. But what good was lying when there was a knife in her pocket?

"I wanted to commit suicide," she said after a moment of thought. The boy knitted his brows in response. "But don't try to talk me out of it... I'm sure my decision was right, and nothing will change that.

" "So why are you telling me not to try to talk you out of it?"

"Because I know it won't work. And why did you come here? You don't live here." She glanced at his jeans and snow-white, branded Adidas T-shirt. "You don't look poor... This shed looked abandoned..."

"Because it is," he replied firmly. "I'm not a beggar, I didn't run away from home, I'm not looking for meaning in life, and I didn't meet a girl here to spend a lovely night in the hay. I came here for something else. It's ridiculous, but I only came here to kill myself..."

To make his words more credible, he pulled a knife from his pocket.

She snorted, disbelieving not him, but the whole situation. It was impossible...

"Would you come in?" I've made myself comfortable here a bit...

"Would you like to come in?" "Would you like to stay the night?" "Maybe there's a chance for something more?" – these were phrases she heard often. Too often. Now, numb by the situation, she couldn't say anything. At the moment of death, she wanted to be alone and alone. She didn't need any man for that... especially a man with problems. "

I'm sorry, I'm very surprised by the situation," she said, forestalling the question. "Well... why aren't you saying anything?" "

It doesn't matter. If you don't want to, don't come in. The barn is big, there's plenty of room," he laughed gently, yet reassuringly. He was so different from any man she'd ever encountered. Confident, yet gentle. He knew what he wanted and knew how to get out of a sticky situation. After all, it wasn't every day you encountered a suicide.

She walked deeper into the barn, following the boy. A blanket was spread in the corner. Beside them were several unopened bottles of beer, a few clothes, a backpack, and on top of the blanket lay a portable music player.

She whistled at the sight.

"Although the conditions are somewhat spartan, you've settled in quite nicely...

" "Adam," he extended his hand. She shook it, murmuring her name. Now, for the first time, they truly looked into each other's eyes. He saw sunken eyeballs covered by delicate lids, lashes caressed with mascara. She saw the happy face of a handsome boy. She'd only seen such in youth magazines.

Adam looked at Maja without repulsion. Men like him despised such men. Always penniless, poorly made up, dressed provocatively, without an ounce of taste, often with cigarettes in their mouths, and even more often, drug addicts. To boys from good families, they were nothing. Nothing, or something to play with. Prostitutes with problems – oh!

"If you want, you can lie down on the blanket with me. You're not going to lie on the ground... and I doubt you have a blanket in your backpack."

He sat down on the blanket. He removed the music player and tossed it into his backpack. He patted the spot where she was supposed to sit.

She hesitated for a moment, then went to get the backpack and sat down next to the boy.

"I know you don't want to talk," he said bluntly. "Me neither. In moments like these, you want to think about yourself. To reconsider your choices... that's why I took the blanket. I had to think."

She nodded, amazed that such an eloquent man would want to kill himself. I think he even wanted to talk...

"If you want, we can listen to music," he suggested. She agreed, and soon they were listening to the sounds of a popular rock band through headphones. Their heads were straight, facing the roof. They didn't look at each other. Adam thought about himself and Marta. Every single thought hurt. It even hurt that a girl so strikingly similar to her was lying next to him. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but it would be completely pointless. Because he didn't love the girl who had probably run away from the streetlight, but Marta. A good, decent girl with eyes like emeralds and a voice that was more beautiful than any music.

"Why?" Maja asked at one point, as if that one word could replace millions of questions. Receiving no answer, she elaborated. "Why do you want to kill yourself?"

He pondered.

He wanted to say it nicely, define it nicely, illustrate it nicely. "

Have you ever had this feeling that you open your eyes, but the automatic thought is to close them and never open them again?"

"I have."

"Then imagine that this feeling has been with you for two years. You're young, you don't know life yet... but when you're older, you'll see how evil this world is..."

She became indignant. She turned her head towards him and began to hurl accusations.

"And how old are you to be saying that?"

"Twenty-one.

" "Then you're not that much older than me. Two years.

" "It doesn't matter. That's the age girls are so preoccupied with life and death. A guy will dump them, kiss them the wrong way, want to have sex or not... he'll look hungrily at another girl, get drunk and forget what he did the night before... and the girl will take it personally and want to kill herself. I've had a few girlfriends and made a lot of mistakes... it's not worth it. It's not worth it because of guys. And the little kids are no better anyway. They think it's the end of the world. I'm telling you: if not this one, then another!

" Finishing his monologue, he looked at her. Her cheeks were wet with tears. "Apparently, I've got it," he thought. "

Don't cry. "

"Oh, don't cry..."

The only response was an increasingly louder sob. Maja couldn't help herself. She felt something inside her break. The cup of pain had overflowed, and now it was overflowing with tears. She remembered everything. Her father staring at the vodka bottle, his nightly visits and the words, "Want to play? It won't hurt...", the first glimpse of the hatred of her classmates, the first lost year, her mother's death. Then the daily fights and worries about Ania. Nighttime escapes to Aunt Grażyna's house with the baby in her arms. Then the first time a client pulled down her pants. The first banknote. The first thought, "I'm trash." "

You don't know life," he said quietly, wiping away the dripping tears with his finger. She couldn't force herself to tell him to leave. She couldn't force herself to jump him and swear at him so hard that by the end he wouldn't know her name. She just closed her eyes, the memories of her life refusing to disappear.

"Are you saying I don't know life?" she asked, her voice breaking.

"No." "

You just said that a moment ago." So maybe since you know life so well, tell me what pushed you to suicidal thoughts.

He looked at her, still seeing Marta's eyes before him. They were almost identical...

"My girlfriend died," he said in a firm voice. Maja laughed. "Why are you laughing?"

"Is that all?

" "Isn't that enough?

" ***

"I'm sorry," she said after an hour of silence. "We shouldn't be competing over who has experienced more misfortune.

" "We shouldn't.

" "But you don't know anything about me. You shouldn't say I haven't experienced anything.

" "So? Maybe you'll tell me?

" "I don't want to. Not now. But I'll tell you one thing... it's not worth ruining your life over the death of someone you loved. She would want you to be happy.

" "But without her, it's impossible."

"My mom died. I couldn't break down because I had my sister to worry about, and my father, who didn't give a damn about us. I know she'd hate me if I left my sister alone. You know nothing about life! You never worried about having something to put in the pot tomorrow! You think it's the end of the world because she died! It's not true! You live on! You can live just for her!

" "Why are you acting like a slut?" he asked, ignoring her moralizing. "

I don't have money, you know that."

"An honest person will always find a job. They don't have to sell their young bodies to some thugs who escaped the family nest for a few minutes after work for a quickie.

" "You believe that!?" she asked, her voice laced with resentment. "That's what people say who have jobs and don't give a damn about people like us. They don't know how hard it is to survive..."

A moment of silence.

It was already dark outside.

The cat had returned from its nightly hunt.

***

Adam lit a candle and pushed away anything that might catch fire.

"She loved staring into the fire," he said dreamily, watching the dancing flame. He remembered Marta's laughter when he had made her explain for the hundredth time what was so appealing about fire.

"Life," she always replied.

The kitten approached Maja. She stroked its back. At first gently, so it wouldn't startle. Then it settled itself on her lap. It fell asleep.

"Marta liked animals too."

"Don't compare me to her! It irritates me."

"You have eyes almost identical to hers."

They looked at each other shyly.

Adam stroked Maja's hand and kissed her bare shoulder.

She didn't want any leftovers.

Even though he kissed her neck, she pulled away, offended.

They talked for a moment longer, then Maja fell asleep.

She opened her eyes while it was still dark. She groped for Adam's arm. He was gone.

She fell asleep, thinking he'd probably gone for a walk.

When the darkness thinned, the girl could easily get up.

She walked over to the bed she'd made for the kitten—he wasn't there either. He'd probably gone hunting. The shed was too quiet. She began to look around the interior. She saw nothing unusual except a thin red trail, which later turned out to be blood. She ran after it and reached the haystack behind which lay Arthur's limp body. Tears immediately welled up in her eyes.

He lay in a pool of blood.

His knife lay nearby.

There was also a note.

She picked up the slip of paper and read the few words written on it.

She smiled faintly and returned to the blanket. She lit a candle, then burned the "suicide note."

She took out the knife and began tracing it along the purple veins.

She walked over to Adam and sat down next to him. She brushed his hair back from his face and stroked his cheeks.

"Thank you," she said quietly, and threw the knife away. She tossed it somewhere in the haystack. She didn't want to look for it anymore.

"... -There's no such thing as suicide. Do you really think a person has the right to choose whether to live or not? We don't even know how to live our own lives well. Do you think God would allow us to make decisions about death? It's like expecting a final exam on the first day of the school year!

-So what about suicides?

-It's the same as with kids who get called out of class to go to the principal: they think they know what's going on, but they're wrong..."

/"Dog Museum" J. Carrol/