Invisible...

In the silence, your words whisper, the only interruption. I turn my head to the wall. It's funny how hard someone had to work to cover it with this wallpaper. It's so uneven and full of holes. Just like me. It's amazing how much this wall resembles me. I close my eyes. I lie there for a brief moment. Suddenly, I feel your hand on my white shoulder. A shiver runs through me. From my scalp to the very tip of my toes. You begin to play with my hair. When your lips intervene, I rise and leave. Enough.

I remember it all like it happened yesterday. And yet so much time has passed. How long? I don't know how long... I'm so lost, I don't know. I have to live day by day. The psychologist my dad forcibly sent me to said I'd die otherwise. Yes... but it doesn't change anything, it doesn't help me at all... I still despise myself so much that I want to repeat it and throw myself out the window again. I talk as if I did, but I didn't. And damn it, I have no idea why. It would be so much better. For me and for the whole world. Why am I needed here? I'm just struggling... Yesterday I went shopping. Out of spite, I had to run into Agnieszka. She looked confused at the sight of me, as if I were some kind of leper or something... And yet she was my best friend. For eight years. When she saw me, she dropped the jar of pickles she was holding. She made a fuss, security rushed in... She paid, looked at me reproachfully, as if I'd abandoned those pickles and left. Pathetic. I haven't changed a bit. Except I don't take care of myself. Except I wear black. Except I haven't washed my hair in over a week, except I can't smile anymore. And on top of that, I can't live. Other than that, everything's the same as before, really. I saw my mom on Wednesday. She even chatted with me for a while. Yes, she likes to pretend everything's fine, likes to pretend something doesn't exist. I know perfectly well she'd love to get rid of me; I'm such an embarrassment to her in front of people. I'm the daughter of the best dentist in town. It probably suits her that I've moved out. She just asked if I have enough money to live on. That's all. Then her usual stories about how it was at work, and of course, about Paweł, my beloved brother, what a successful life he has and what a wonderful man he'll be someday. Yes... I was supposed to be a wonderful man too. Even more wonderful. I remember that before this happened, I was even more favored by my parents. A beloved daughter, a talented, wonderful child. Now she doesn't really exist to them. I'm wondering if I should go for a walk. It's terribly hot here. I'm just afraid of running into someone again. I really don't want to look at all these mocking or pitying faces right now. I have to hide somehow. I take a long, thick, down coat out of the closet, even though it's only early November. I feel safe in it. A hat, a hood, and I'm ready. Funny how little it takes to become invisible. Yes... Being invisible consumes about ninety percent of my energy. It wasn't like that before. I used to want to be admired, I used to go out and wear colorful clothes. I used to like to hit on people, and I was hit on. In the past...This didn't happen before.

I—invisible—walk down a dark street. I'm not afraid of the city, even at night. I'm not afraid because I don't care about anything. It doesn't matter if someone attacks me or not; maybe it would even be better that way. I stand on a small bridge. The river roars below. I wonder why places like this are so especially attractive to me. Maybe because I don't feel so completely alone here? I've made friends with this greenish water, full of red birch leaves that fall into it from the tree growing on the bank. I tell her about myself. I need it somehow. To talk. Something, to "Someone." I don't want to forget this skill. And actually, I like talking. I used to be a talker. Today I'll tell her about Przemek.

I remember he didn't call the next day. Not the day after that either. I spoke first. As usual. I couldn't wait for him. I loved him too much. And that was my curse. I'll never forget those dark, amber eyes, even if I wanted to. The image of Przemek's eyes became too ingrained in me. Too deeply ingrained. I called, and he came. He hugged me for a moment at the door and told me he had to go, duty called. So clear... of course. I don't know how I even met him. At some silly meeting before my Confirmation. I mean, it didn't seem silly at the time; I really enjoyed going. Back then, I still believed in God. I think he liked me, and he walked me home afterward. Yes, there was a time when I could have actually liked me. He was so devastatingly handsome that from that day on, he was my complete focus. I couldn't concentrate, I couldn't study, I couldn't sleep. We started dating. Now I realize I was always the one who spoke first. He had a certain advantage over me... He knew I wouldn't leave him, so why would he call or come when I would sooner or later do the same? Damn, what a complete asshole he was, and how much I loved that asshole... That love became my curse.

Honey, don't get up. Come here to me. I told you it was high time. We've been together for six months. You have an obligation to give it to me. So what if I didn't want to? So what if I wasn't ready? The most important thing for me was not to lose Przemek. I was scared as hell. I said I didn't want to again. Then he twisted my arm and told me to listen to him. He kissed me very gently. Then he started unbuttoning my blouse. I pulled away. Then he hit me. No, it wasn't the first time. I don't know what hurt more—the way he humiliated me and what I felt inside, or the physical pain. Every time he hit me, he threatened to leave me if anyone found out, so I endured it, so I covered up the traces. Of course, it happened then. He didn't even force it. He did it because he could manipulate me, because he had control over me.

But this street is empty. So what if it's two in the morning? Isn't it okay to walk at two? It's as good a time as any. Two weeks passed. The worst happened. Przemek got what he wanted, so he stopped caring. This was the beginning of my hell; the real hell was just about to break loose. I didn't want to live. He wouldn't answer my calls, wouldn't open the door for me. I hoped it would pass. I was in a slump. After a month, I realized something was wrong. I realized I was pregnant. In tears, I went to see him at school. When he saw me, he wanted to leave. I screamed in his face about my wonderful discovery. He looked at me like I was an idiot and said, "It's your fault you didn't use contraception." I ran after him. I cried, asking what I should do. "If you want, I'll give you an abortion," he replied.

I don't know why. I really don't. I have no right to use fear as an excuse to my parents. There's no excuse for this. I know they know it anyway. But they've never said a word about it. It doesn't exist for them. Every night I hear the baby's whimper, a quiet, sad cry that sometimes turns into a painful, excruciating scream. That's why I go for walks at night. I don't want to sleep, I don't have the courage, it's exhausting. I sleep very little, I limit it as much as possible. And always—for over a year now, the same dream. Przemek doesn't interest me at all. Nobody and nothing interests me. Because what could possibly interest me after I became a murderer? She'd like to silence this fear someday, this cry of my baby in her dreams, but I don't know how... I can't help him, I can't help myself. I don't know how. I live as if I didn't exist. But in this studio apartment my grandmother bought me, I feel better than at home. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have enough to eat, enough to pay the rent, because how could I? I'm 17. And supposedly, I'm still in school. Supposedly, because the last time I attended a lesson was about three weeks ago. And I definitely won't make it. I'm going home now. If I can call this place home. I'm going for a bath. Yes, four in the morning is the perfect time for a bath, especially since I haven't done it in ages.

***

I was shocked when I first saw Magda. I met her at night, sitting in the stairwell, cutting bloody wounds on her arm with a razor blade. I was returning from an emergency. I had just seen a man off to the other world. I was in my jacket and trousers. Magda thought I was an ordinary person. Because I am, after all, an ordinary person. By some miracle, I managed to gain her trust. I became friends with Magda. It took a very long time. A lot of time must have passed before she told me about this terrible event. There is no resemblance between the old, invisible Magda and the new, living one. This year she is graduating from high school, and after school she works at a foundation that cares for unborn children. She prays for them, and every year she undertakes spiritual adoption. Magda does everything in her power to atone for her sin, to quiet her child's cries. I see her in church every week. I don't know if all this happened because I'm a priest. She didn't even know it at first. It was more because I helped her find herself in all of this... That I brought her to life and discovered a part of Magda. I taught her how to be visible again...