Aga 5

When she was in fifth grade, her grandfather—her step-grandfather—died, the only person she had ever been close to. The only person who cared for her—gave her a glass every day "to warm her up." Everyone expresses their care differently. For Aga, a small glass meant almost the same thing as a mother's hug means to one of her six children. Tenderness, warmth, good taste. It was his care. Everyone needs care. Sometimes it's expressed in kind words, sometimes in a hug. Here, it's expressed in a glass. No... In a bottleneck. "Żytnia" is the middle name for care.

Suddenly, one May morning, the old man collapsed and never got up again. The ambulance, which arrived a dozen or so minutes later, couldn't save him. Aga overheard them saying that alcohol had killed him—she went and drank the entire bottle herself. The bottle Mr. Mietek had prepared for today... He hadn't had time to finish it... Aga couldn't get herself together after that. No one greeted her each morning with a smile anymore—because even though it was the smile of a drunken alcoholic—it was still a smile. A smile that helped her get through the day; she knew someone was waiting for her, perhaps missing her... And now? NOTHING! Emptiness. Everything she had was gone. She was left alone, completely alone in the big world. A poor, little, unhappy girl. She often saw her mother smoking in moments of greatest stress. She took her pack of cigarettes. She went to the park, sat on a bench, and, wincing, choking, and crying, smoked all twenty-five of them in one go. That evening, she didn't return home. She fainted in the park. She collapsed and lay there until morning, when the dew sobered her up. No one called an ambulance, no one bent over her, no one offered her a hand. After all, she was alone. Who cares about someone debased by fate? Who helps someone lying on the ground? No one! Everyone is alone and relies only on themselves! Aga cut back on alcohol because it was more expensive, started smoking, and could always steal cigarettes from her mother. Hello, life's second lesson. You're an ambitious teacher. Do you skimp on anything? Oh no... You take exams on everything. And the wisest and most experienced student in your life is the ruin of a human being. Hello, nicotine. Dear sister. How good that you exist. At least you...

After her grandfather's death, she didn't know what to do with herself. She couldn't go to the station—she was afraid, and something else held her back, perhaps the voice of that boy who had called her Agnieszka? No one was waiting for her in the store either. She was alone, completely alone. She began looking for a place where she could find herself. Where she would feel good. Because such places exist. Eden. The earthly Eden of each of us. Hello, gate of heaven. You open yourself to the world. The world of people. And that hurts...

In sixth grade, she came across a place called the wall. It was the wall of an old, long-closed factory, ablaze with graffiti and other scribbles and inscriptions. Human creativity. Emotions. Anger. Aggression. A spray can is enough. Now you can read everything there. Human thoughts. Disrespect. Uneducated youth. Welcome to the adult world. It's good that you understand me. And these inscriptions. You understand them too. As an expression of hooliganism. Thank you....

The wall was located on the very outskirts of the park. Children from good homes and self-respecting citizens never appeared here—a taboo place, a taboo subject. Is anyone there? It's nothing. It's none of our business. Has someone hit rock bottom? It's nothing, it's none of our business; they're their own fault. No one is guilty of anything. There is no neighbor. Everyone is alone and lives for themselves. "You shall love... your neighbor as yourself..." What neighbor? In this day and age?

In the evenings, everyone gathered there, just like her. Alone, without a father, a mother, without a place of their own, and without a self. Without a self. Without a name. But with dignity. With honor. And with tears in their eyes. With tears of disappointment. Over humanity. Bottles and cigarettes passed from hand to hand, from mouth to mouth. She liked it here. She quickly found authority there. Even though she was much younger than them all, she wouldn't let anyone call her "little girl," just like in her neighborhood. Here, too, she was Aga, and no one else. She thought she'd found her friends here. They smoked together, drank together, skipped school together... She made friends. They might not be as kind as Mr. Miecio, and they didn't smile as brightly, but they cared for her—always offering a bottle of beer or a cigarette when needed. And always offering support. When her hands shook so much she couldn't open a can of beer. There's nothing like friends...

"Do you smoke weed?" The question came from them, and she didn't want to lose her authority.

"From now on, yes."

She knew how to inhale. She'd learned it while smoking cigarettes. She did it now too. She felt so light, so pleasant, so joyful... Everything was so funny: the birds sang so funny, the leaves fell so funny... Everything was beautiful and pleasant. Aga finally felt completely relaxed. She didn't want it to end because it gave her pleasure. She started coming to the wall every evening; she had her friends and her weed here. She was sixteen.

Teacher of life! Isn't that all? Isn't that the end? Three victims aren't enough for you? This downfall, this degradation of humanity isn't enough for you? No... You want more... You want defeat. Total defeat. So lead. Hope is the mother of fools. I have no hope. Not for a better tomorrow. Life is the best teacher. So lead. I entrust my fate to you. Until the end.

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I would like to inform those interested that this story is part of a larger whole and in fact it neither began here nor will end here... ;-)

Regards :)