At 17, it was completely awful or even worse than that. I was no longer in the secondary section. They kept me in the underground basement. There was one small window that was way too high. The walls were all cracked and fallen pipes were spread out nearby the edges. The bed was just wood, almost rotten, and there were no pillows or blankets. There was nothing I could do or say because now even the attendants hammered at me.
They or I must say everyone called me a misfortune. It partially was because both mom and Dad, whom they called the 'Monsters,' aimed at me. It was early winter and luckily the climate wasn't that cold as we lived near the equator. Every day, like the other and the other and the other, they gave me two sandwiches with milk for the whole day.
Mama would often come in and slap me 20 times.
After 16 I didn't cry. I became used to the worst treatments they gave me.
It was my 18th birthday at that time. I was eating my sandwiches and drinking my milk along to lighten the mood of my sore throat. It was quiet until she came and sat in front of me. "How do you feel?" She asked me nonchalantly. "Awful" That was all that came out and I knew nothing else to say or even describe as they did not teach me like the others. She slapped me unexpectedly. "How do you feel? "She asked me again with a bit of a louder pitch. "Awful" and again I was slapped. "How do you feel" She spoke through gritted teeth. I knew nothing to say to tell how I felt, and it occurred to me that she wanted me to use a different word. "Great" She smiled and then disappeared. I was pretty shocked.
It was unexpected. I must take this as a coincidental occurrence. It was evening already, time passed by quite fast and I, like every other day, lay on the floor, gazing right at the ceiling. My mind was blank, and I thought of nothing but to sleep. I must say I was happy at that time.
She reappeared, and her face was above mine. She smiled at me, but I knew there was something behind that smile of hers, but I never came to describe it. After a long intense gaze, she placed the knife in my heart and slowly pressed it. My tears were welding up, but I uttered nothing. It was what I wanted. It wasn't painful, it never was. The most painful thing I felt was being abused, and I felt it at 14. She then stabbed me really hard for the second time. I uttered nothing. She stabbed me again, yet I uttered nothing. She then cut my throat with a blade and it was pretty deep, yet I uttered nothing.
*Would you scream? *
"Rest in peace, my love," was all she said before she vanished.
*It was those last ten seconds that I smiled and shut my eyes to let the little euphoria run through me. I took a different perspective on death. It was not a recession that I should mourn for, but it was a euphoric feeling I yearned for since 13 or I shall say a hidden feeling that I came to know only when I was 13*