I had always been the kind of child who was constantly ill or sick. My parents got to the point where they were ignoring my other two siblings just to entertain me so I’d forget about my illness. I was always in the spotlight but surprisingly enough, I did not fancy it. Kids at my school mocked at me and all I wished for was to be invisible so as to be free.

My condition worsened and I needed to be kept under observation for at least 48 hours. My room was swamped with doctors and nurses who couldn’t stop asking questions. I guess my case was out of the ordinary because I was not quite sure they knew exactly what I was suffering from. The thing was, I didn’t want this much attention, all I wanted was peace and freedom.

After a deep sleep that felt like ages I woke up feeling lightheaded. To my surprise the tubes and wires that were connecting me to the beeping machines magically disappeared together with the nurses. I thought why not go for it and I tried my luck getting out of the hospital and I actually succeeded. No one paid much attention to what I was doing, not even a single person noticed my presence or absence and with that I was very pleased.

Making my way to the park I overheard some old ladies chatting carelessly even after I had sat down right next to them. “Have you heard about Florence’s new coat? It is made of crocodile skin” exclaimed the one with the hat and the other one almost shouted “Our Florence? Is that old hag still alive?” It was pretty funny sneaking up on them and listening to them ramble on and on about their gossip victims, pretending to be taking care of their grandchildren.

I did not mind them as I had other business to attend to: my aggressively churning stomach. I headed for the bretzel shop and I asked for one but I got no answer so I simply walked back home where I hoped at least my mom would feed me.

As I arrived I saw three black cars parked in front of our house and I realised that the front door was left wide-open. I entered silently being unaware of what was happening. The horrific cries of my mother and my father’s comforting voice still gave me no clues about what was going on until I went into the living-room. In the middle there was a small closed casket about my size that I did not dare open it. Then it dawned on me: God did not bless me with the majestic gift of invisibility, he gave me absolute freedom to roam the earth nonchalantly, to stop being the center of attention, to do as I pleased… And he did all of that through the gift of death.

This story was written by Karina Pampu.

This article was featured in our 8th issue.
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