to wilt, so I had to walk home quickly and cheer Mother up with these flowers. I would find a pretty vase and place the flowers on the kitchen table. It would be a nice surprise. Mother loved flowers. Mother loved me, and I loved Mother. The sun was shining and the birds sang their songs and I started to whistle along. I couldn’t whistle all that well yet, but I practiced a lot and was getting better and better at it.
Father had been able to whistle really well and he had shown me how to do it. Father himself had learned from Grandpa, who could whistle with his fingers as well, really hard. Sometimes I tried to do that, but then you heard nothing, and all I ended up with was wet fingers. But now I could sing along with the birds. I looked up at the blue sky and felt just as cheerful as the birds I could hear. I saw a butterfly and chased it, into the sky. It was a tiny black speck against the blue sky, and I followed it, higher and higher, closer and closer to the sun. I could feel the sun’s warmth on my face and I basked in the glow of it with my eyes closed. The sunlight shone just as brightly behind my closed eyelids. Even though my eyes were closed it wasn’t really dark at all. It was a cheerful darkness. Yes, that’s what it was, a cheerful darkness.
But all of a sudden the cheerful darkness disappeared and turned into a frightening darkness. It was real dark now, black, like the night with its scary sounds. A cloud had blocked the sun’s light. It was now dark as the night and a watery moon shimmered in between the clouds, and then it vanished again. I could feel how it suddenly turned cold. My arms, back and legs were covered in goose bumps.
My hand let go of the flowers. Yellow and red fluttered to the ground, withered and forgotten.
‘No, no!’ I stammered the words, but beyond my lips there was no sound, just silence, a silence that embraced me in the darkness.
‘No.’ A tear found its way from my eye down my cheek. My knees gave way, legs that had carried me up into the air moments earlier, had lost their strength and I collapsed. I crushed the flowers in my fall.
‘No.’
Suddenly he was there, standing over me.
‘Maria, get up.’ His arms stretched out to me as he stooped down and lifted me up. High over his head I flew. The black night could hold me even better now and choked me as I floated. I couldn’t breath as the darkness oppressed me. His strong hands had a crushing hold on my stomach, I saw his black eyes and felt his black breath, hot breath that cut like a knife through my body.
‘Don’t!’ The words resonated in my head, loud and clear, but in the night they were stifled and they were lost before he heard them. He didn’t hear and continued to hold me with the big hands that pulled away clothes and that scorched my exposed skin.
Why, why? Where is Mother, I want Mother.
But she wasn’t there, she never was.
12
S ometimes it seems to me as if the present and the past merge together in this place, though I know that nothing will ever be quite the way it used to be. The hatred I feel for the Reverend is still there and I don’t think this will ever change. I’m not even sure if I want it to. My hatred for him gives me the strength to go on. I no longer wish to loose the child I carry, but I often feel the weight of shame pressing down on me. It’s impossible for me to face people. It would make my misery unbearable. But it’s also impossible for me to live the rest of my life in isolation. With the new year drawing near I start to have many new questions. But I’m not yet ready to face up to the answers.
As I woke up on the morning of New Year’s Eve I smelled a fragrance that brought me back to the past. I got out of bed and slowly came down the stairs, one hand pressed on my ever-growing stomach. I no longer was troubled by nausea, so whenever I smelled delicious aromas that reminded me of my younger days coming from Auntie’s kitchen, I was always tempted to eat
Father had been able to whistle really well and he had shown me how to do it. Father himself had learned from Grandpa, who could whistle with his fingers as well, really hard. Sometimes I tried to do that, but then you heard nothing, and all I ended up with was wet fingers. But now I could sing along with the birds. I looked up at the blue sky and felt just as cheerful as the birds I could hear. I saw a butterfly and chased it, into the sky. It was a tiny black speck against the blue sky, and I followed it, higher and higher, closer and closer to the sun. I could feel the sun’s warmth on my face and I basked in the glow of it with my eyes closed. The sunlight shone just as brightly behind my closed eyelids. Even though my eyes were closed it wasn’t really dark at all. It was a cheerful darkness. Yes, that’s what it was, a cheerful darkness.
But all of a sudden the cheerful darkness disappeared and turned into a frightening darkness. It was real dark now, black, like the night with its scary sounds. A cloud had blocked the sun’s light. It was now dark as the night and a watery moon shimmered in between the clouds, and then it vanished again. I could feel how it suddenly turned cold. My arms, back and legs were covered in goose bumps.
My hand let go of the flowers. Yellow and red fluttered to the ground, withered and forgotten.
‘No, no!’ I stammered the words, but beyond my lips there was no sound, just silence, a silence that embraced me in the darkness.
‘No.’ A tear found its way from my eye down my cheek. My knees gave way, legs that had carried me up into the air moments earlier, had lost their strength and I collapsed. I crushed the flowers in my fall.
‘No.’
Suddenly he was there, standing over me.
‘Maria, get up.’ His arms stretched out to me as he stooped down and lifted me up. High over his head I flew. The black night could hold me even better now and choked me as I floated. I couldn’t breath as the darkness oppressed me. His strong hands had a crushing hold on my stomach, I saw his black eyes and felt his black breath, hot breath that cut like a knife through my body.
‘Don’t!’ The words resonated in my head, loud and clear, but in the night they were stifled and they were lost before he heard them. He didn’t hear and continued to hold me with the big hands that pulled away clothes and that scorched my exposed skin.
Why, why? Where is Mother, I want Mother.
But she wasn’t there, she never was.
12
S ometimes it seems to me as if the present and the past merge together in this place, though I know that nothing will ever be quite the way it used to be. The hatred I feel for the Reverend is still there and I don’t think this will ever change. I’m not even sure if I want it to. My hatred for him gives me the strength to go on. I no longer wish to loose the child I carry, but I often feel the weight of shame pressing down on me. It’s impossible for me to face people. It would make my misery unbearable. But it’s also impossible for me to live the rest of my life in isolation. With the new year drawing near I start to have many new questions. But I’m not yet ready to face up to the answers.
As I woke up on the morning of New Year’s Eve I smelled a fragrance that brought me back to the past. I got out of bed and slowly came down the stairs, one hand pressed on my ever-growing stomach. I no longer was troubled by nausea, so whenever I smelled delicious aromas that reminded me of my younger days coming from Auntie’s kitchen, I was always tempted to eat
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