Killing and remorse
It was foggy outside. Cold. That cold weather had to go away. Soon. She felt like it was suffocating her more and more each day. Strange feeling that suffocation. It was supposed to be the other way around, she was thinking. It was supposed to be suffocating when it was warm. The heat is unbearable. Or at least it must be. More unbearable than the cold. She knew that something was going to happen. There always happens something after a long period of lethargy and silence.
The light had no power to illuminate the entire room. She looked outside. The shadows of the trees were moving slowly. From left to right, from right to left. It looked like dancing. A sad dance of the shadows. Silence had taken over. She wasn’t capable of moving. Her mind was empty. She kept feeling that pressure in her chest. What was happening to her? She must let go. She must try to get over it. But there was absolutely nothing that she could associate this bizarre feeling with! She finally managed to take the first step toward the balcony. Her eyes still on the dancing shadows. Another step. And another one. Without being able not to stare outside. She wanted to listen to music but couldn’t move towards the computer. Staring at the trees, a tear slid down her cheek. Then another one. She had a lump in her throat. Her head was noisy. Too noisy. It felt like there were 100 people in it, all talking at the same time. Arguing. Crying. Laughing. Yelling. The lump wouldn’t disappear. It was there, tangled around her throat, not wanting to let go. The tears wouldn’t stop either. They would keep sliding down her cheeks and eventually falling on the cold floor tiles. She hardly heard them. But she knew they were falling on the floor. Her head, her head was so heavy! Everything was blurred. She saw little shiny colored dots.
She had to clean the house. Today! No excuses. Especially that balcony. It was filthy and messy. That had to be done. She took all the boxes into the house, she organized everything. She put them back on the balcony, in the corner, creating a separate area for them. Then she took the old crib and used it as a more evident separator.
- I think it flew away. It will return.
She told him. Then she started vacuuming. Frenetically, so she could finish it rapidly. The sooner the better, she thought. Then I can relax. I can have one day for myself. Okay, half a day. But still something. And she kept cleaning, her mind not there. Just dreaming. Eyes wide open, dreaming. Singing in her head. She had almost finished, when she saw the old cabinet. Inside, as she remembered, some old shoes. Well, what the heck, she thought. I’ll vacuum the dust inside this, too. For a moment it crossed her mind, that maybe, just maybe, it could have gotten inside that cabinet. But then again, looking at the doors, it would have been impossible. It wouldn’t fit in. So she candidly picked up some shoes on the upper shelve, then some on the lower one, then took out the head of the vacuum cleaner and started vacuuming. At once, she heard a beep. It all stopped. Could she just have vacuumed it? Nooo! Oh no! Her heart was beating like crazy. She took it out fast. For the next hour, it was the sweetest thing. It behaved as nothing had happened. She felt relief when she saw it climbing up her blouse to eventually reach her shoulder and lick her face. She was really glad it had survived. She fed it, she gave it water and put it to its place. After some hours, she wanted to take it out and show it to some friends. It was dead. Dead as hell. And she was hurt and felt so sorry for the poor little thing.
She opened her eyes and stared out of the window. The sky was grey. The weather still moody. She wished it was a nightmare. But it wasn’t. She had killed the bat she saved some months ago.
- How stupid can you be? How could you not pay attention to this? How could you vacuum the bat? You are stupid, get accustomed to it! Lucky it wasn’t the kid or the dog, or even me! You have just lost your right to tell me what I should do and what I shouldn’t!
She heard these words over and over again, although they had been said, along with other things, the night before. It all went crazy in her head from that moment on. It all began not to make sense anymore. She wished she could wish she died instead of that innocent little creature, but she couldn’t. She would not do this to her child. Was she indeed that bad? That stupid? That ignorant? Or was it a bad karma thing? She suddenly began to think about how it must feel like when for example in a car accident someone dies and it is your fault. She couldn’t even think far enough about it, because she had to go to the bathroom and throw up. She knows she is not bad people. But why on Earth do these awful things have to always happen to her? All the she knows is that she killed. Even if it was by mistake.
- How the fuck can you kill by mistake?
She would ask herself one billion times that day. Bad karma! It must be bad karma! The cat, the turtle, the rabbit, the bird and now the bat started playing in front of her, reminding her of all animals that she had saved. In all cases, it was more or less her fault: cat – jumped out of the window (someone let it open, but she didn’t check) and didn’t return, turtle – she gave it away to some people who had more turtles (they later on told her it had left and didn’t return), rabbit – dead, bird – dead after one night of suffering, bat – vacuumed, dead.
Maybe some of you will say life is life, move on, you can’t do anything about it. Maybe some of you will tell me I’ll get over it some day. I’m not looking for nice words. It’s just, it’s the only way I can get it out somehow. I know it might sound weird as a comparison, but I do feel something close to what I felt after my father died. Back then, we did not have the money to try some other treatment, in some other country. He told me he didn’t want to try anything else. But I knew that if there had been the money, he had definitely tried it. After his death I felt that it was my fault because I have not tried harder to get the money. I still have to live with the pain and the guilt. I’ll most probably have to live with the guilt of not being capable to help him for the rest of my days. And I’ll have to also live with the guilt of having killed the bat, not because I am bad or because I wanted to do so, but because I was distracted and lazy that unfortunate day.