Scarlett's Death Wish

WOMAN

No, it’s Scarlett – double “t”.

MAN

Tell me about yourself, Scarlett.

WOMAN

You won’t want to know.

MAN

It’s needed.

WOMAN

Okay… Your risk. *clears throat* young and twenty-one. A drop-out. A smoker. A suicidal wench they say and –

MAN

(stranger is disconnected)

That’s it. I close the lid of my old and almost a vintage laptop and lay straight to my single, narrow and dusty bed. I can see from my peripheral vision how messy the room and my life are; clothes everywhere and mixed up for you to not know which are clean and which are dirty; cigarette butts and empty bottles as empty as my life. I took my sketchbook from the small table beside me and started drawing my death. It was a thick black hard-bonded book I received as a gift when I was twelve, when the nuns discovered I had a talent of drawing.

The sketch of my own death. A girl, standing by the fifth floor of Heron Tower, listening to the cars beeping underneath her lifeless body; feeling the wind while it touches her skin. An hour, minute or second – it will be the end.

This is the only thing I’m good at, aside from messing with my life and my skin, I somehow learned how to draw and be creative using my imagination about how will I die someday. I am now on the 30th page of my sketchbook which means I got 30 ways of killing myself. The first one is too basic, a girl sneaking in the kitchen in the middle of the night to take the bottle of bleach with her. Nasty, yes. Some are images of a girl holding a knife against her fatal parts - wrist and chest and others are just sketch of a girl sitting by a skyscraper planning a stunt before landing head first on the ground. Some are just similar scenarios but I added twists on them to make them erotic.

This started when I just turned seven. I woke up feeling completely nothing. Ever since, every happening in my life are just series of nightmares that can only be stopped by killing myself. Like there are two types of people - people who really sees the positive side of the world and that life isn’t fair sometimes, and people who sees that she is only that one person whose life is so miserable that she can’t deal with it anymore.

*woman knocking at the door*

“Scarlett, are you there?”

“……”

“It’s time for dinner my dear.”

I throw away my sketchbook; I didn’t know where it landed as Mother Cleo turns the knob of my door because I wasn’t answering to her call. Time check, 05:45PM

“I was sleeping, Mother.” I said and stretched my arms while faking my just-woke-up state. I know she wouldn’t buy it.

“Doesn’t look like it. Dinner’s ready, join us before you go out.” She shows me a plain smile and left. I put my plain blue jacket and boots on; ready for the winter weather outside then head downstairs to see other unfortunate children and teenagers offering their prayers before eating. I pause and bow my head until they finish theirs.

Take me, God.

It has been more than half of my life years that I’ve been praying for that before meal but God can also be cruel. He’s not taking me; He lets me suffer more and leaves me miserable with my life.

“Come now, Scarlett.” The other children fell silent as they see me walk down towards the dining table that can accommodate 18 persons at least. I take my seat, the next to the sisters and take a spoonful of my dinner like it is the last meal of my life.

“Eat like a modest lady, Scarlett.” Mother Emily advises. I munch the food in my mouth and smile to her.

“I’m going. I’m running late for the diner.”

“Take God’s guidance. Be safe.” Mother Cleo said again. I run towards the huge door of the orphanage and put up my hoodie before running outside for work.

I am an orphan. I never met my parents and I never know if I have a family. All I know is that the moment I was born; my parents despised me and the family I should be eating with right now wants me dead. The nuns at Saint Mary Angels Orphanage found me beside a garbage bin (exactly why I called myself a garbage). Ever since, I slept, ate and fuck my whole life in the orphanage. This is why I felt useless my whole life - No one really cared for me; even the nuns here are sick of my attitude except for Mother Cleo.

Saint Mary Angels Orphanage existed for kids but since there was no one that wants to adopt me and all the claims I had for years are fake, I ended up staying longer. The orphanage is old. The walls are not painted like they existed in 400 BC. Somehow, that makes it beautiful because it shows the preservation it had undergone. Beside the orphanage is a church where hundreds of people in the town goes every Sunday and whenever there is a mass. In my case, I am more active in funeral than in regular masses.

I am baptized but at the age of 7, I started to grow distant from the church. This is probably why I ended up like this. I don’t even know when is my real birthday like any other orphans here.

Today’s the 15th of November, and after a month will be the birthday the nuns gave me. It’s been 23 years since I was a garbage but don’t worry, I try not to be a literal one. I have this job which everyone thought I am a girl who has no future. I work as a janitress at Burp’s Diner – which is meters away from the orphanage. I didn’t succeed in school and basically got expelled because I don’t have any motivation to keep up with it. I skipped classes, cursed at my professors and stole books from the library. And finally got an expulsion note when I tore the school flag intentionally. I know nothing aside from basic math, basic grammar and being nice to quite a few strangers because they really hate me and very much afraid of me. I was bad, and I turned really mad at the world but mostly at myself.

Ever heard someone call you a leader of a cult? A witch is tolerable but a satanic person is really out of the way. I once punched a woman – around 40s I think, because she called me “Satan”. How bad was that? I was kicked out and fired from most of my jobs because I had this uncontrollable behavior. But let me ask you, have you ever felt like a plastic straw in your life? Like any second of the day, someone decides to not use you and get you extinct?

Because that’s what I feel – thankfully I am not afraid of it. I am so stoked to be at that point of my life.

“Good Evening, Chris!” I greet the old man who owns the diner. He’s like 50s with his white hair, wrinkled forehead and old voice. Nevertheless, he still got a great strength to run the diner and deliver foods by himself. I run to get the apron and cleaning cart to start tidying things up before a bunch of customers enters. After applying to maybe 50 jobs, I finally found something who has no stigma of having a person who has a black appearance - that includes black eyes, hair, eyeliner and nail polish - and a black soul. Luckily, Mother Cleo also knows him so I am treated like a normal person.

The diner is called Burp’s. It has lived in our town for a decade now and gladly satisfying the customers here. It started as a one-story restaurant but as the economy boomed, and they got more customers, Chris put up a second floor and hopefully, adding a third as a rooftop. The color of the place was kind of classic: red and yellow. It has the slightly rusty kitchen cabinets but still fully functional. Chris maintained the cleanliness despite of its location in the middle of a huge lot with only an old telephone booth on the side. It’s not working anymore. The next house is meters away but you can see it from here— but the size is like a car still meters away.

“Hey, Scarlett!” Chris called from the kitchen. I run and take a break from mopping. “Take this so you won’t get cold later.” He hands me an ash gray scarf which I don’t know if I can accept because aside from a decent salary, he also gives me free meal three times a day even though I only work from 6PM to 9AM.

“Chris, you know I – “

“I’ll never forget that you have a death wish but take this, so that you can die peacefully without getting sick and suffering so much... ”

“And spending so much for medical stuff.” I finish. We both laugh then he orders me to continue my work. As the night goes by, plenty of customers keep on messing and dirtying the place and I get to clean everything. If you’re asking if I have a friend, well I got two workmates who don’t really talk to me at all. They can’t even dare look at me.

Guess what, I don’t care. I don’t like talking to them also. They all know is talking behind my back like someday I am going to bite them or someday one of them will be missing and I’ll be the primary suspect – which will never be going to happen. They are not worth the abduction; even aliens won’t insist.

“Scarlett, take this to the back. It stinks!” Ben, one of the cooks, frustratedly calls my name. I pick the sack of rotten goods and cover my nose while holding it away from me while running outside. Finally, someone ordered me out. I take a stick of cigarette from my pocket and light it up. As the smoke, fog and snow mix in the air – I am once again reminded how gloomy my life is. I never wished for this; it just happened. One day, I just woke up that I can’t change my life so I want to disappear. This society doesn’t deserve someone like me, neither the orphanage.

“Scarlett!”

The sun started to rise and the customers are growing; businessmen, students, and ordinary people living the time of their lives.

The clock hits 9 and I’m off.

“Bye, Chris!” I wave goodbye and run outside while holding the scarf he gave me. I felt so cold so even if I really want to die of cold, I cover my neck with it and jog on the way to the orphanage. As soon as I reach my room, I throw myself and finally found a good sleep with the cold weather.

If you’re asking why I can sleep with a dirty room, they’re not dirty anymore. Mother Cleo is so used to me leaving everything on the floor so she gets someone to clean everything daily. Ironic right? I can clean others’ mess but I can’t do the same to my place. I have no idea why but I don’t really want to do anything good to myself.