Your Existence

“How am I going to pay for this? We’re collecting cardboard to make a wardrobe in a craft workshop I’ll organize.”

“Your expenses are already covered. I just need you to put your name,” Sophie Krammer said, placing a pen in my hands. “Do it, don’t disappoint me.”

I did it; I wanted to go, but the fact that she was paying for me made me feel uncomfortable. I didn’t want anyone to spend a single cent on me. Now, in addition to finding cardboard, I would have to think about how to thank her.

“What do you need for the craft workshop?” Sophie changed the subject, something I appreciated; she was always willing to listen to me as if everything I had to tell her genuinely interested her.

“White glue, paint, and cardboard, maybe,” I replied with a smile. “I’ll stop by all the stores on the way back to the orphanage to see if they can save cardboard.”

“We could organize a collection at the school. It would be faster and more effective.”

Although Sophie’s proposal was sincere, I didn’t think it was a good idea. I didn’t want to give the people at school more reasons to talk about me.

However, Sophie Krammer achieved what she set out to do. If I didn’t know it was impossible, I would even ask her to find a way to cure me. But I didn’t; burdening her with that stress would be absurd, as there was currently no cure available. Doctors had a peculiar way of putting it: “For now, we don’t have a cure.” That phrase had been uttered since the 17th century to describe this rare blood disease that killed people.

What Krammer proposed, Krammer achieved. I appreciated that she didn’t actually mention where the collected items were really going or our circumstances. I wasn’t ashamed of being an orphan or where I lived, but I knew how petty people could be with words. They had a whole life ahead to learn vocabulary and language, yet chose to use it destructively. Yes, I was the target for bullying, with exaggerated dark circles, pale skin, and second-hand clothes that were halfway torn and I tried to sew as best I could, although I wasn’t very skilled. However, I could spend hours reading a book and enjoying both modern and classic movies.

The only thing that seemed healthy about me was my brown eyes with specks of green and my long black hair.

Yes, I suffered bullying, even after my diagnosis. But since I started telling them that I would come back to haunt them, they thought twice and gave me a period of time in complete tranquility.

I made good progress on building the wardrobe in the workshop. Tomorrow would be the trip, and the wardrobes only needed some final touches; I trusted the older kids would help the younger ones in my absence.

In my inherited backpack, I stored several sets of clothes, the flashlight Sophie Krammer had given me, two peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches, and a bottle of water. It wasn’t exactly my favorite food, but it was what I could afford.