On the Other Side

Prologue

In the darkness of the cold, I lose track of time. Have I been here for hours or weeks? How many days have I been locked in the depths of hell? Determining this is impossible; I was born in these depths, I was born in suffering; I know only too well this pain that never stops. Whether I am here or elsewhere, it will always remain this same and inescapable pain.

While my body no longer finds the strength to tremble, my mind continues to turn; I would prefer it to be the other way around. My physical pain will never be comparable to all the things I have learned, to all this monstrosity they have confronted me with. In this dark and austere room, I keep asking myself these same questions: how did I get here? How will I get out of it? Who am I? But this drop of water reproducing the sound of a vulgar kitchen clock prevents me from finding all these answers. Or is it because there isn't any answer? Is it all just a matter of chance? Or is it destiny and my choices that have led me here?

This world we live in is not so different from this room, it is empty, dark and washed of all feelings. The illusion created by our society allows us to believe that the life we ​​live is beautiful, sometimes difficult, but that it is worth living. The truth is that we do not live; we walk, eat, laugh, cry, without any purpose. Happiness seems to be the most precious thing, but it is not. This hypocrisy that we have, that we practice every day, every week, every month, every year, reinforces this belief. 

Society wants us to believe that giving up our seat to an elderly woman on the bus is an act of kindness, which will give us a feeling of pride. The world we live in aims to teach us to differentiate between good and evil. These leaders, salesmen, publicists, feed this ideology of access to happiness for holy people. We are taught during our higher education, the madness of men, rapists, murderers, terrorists. We are taught that killing is a barbaric and violent act, and that the one who gives death is not human; but is it human to raise us to choose a side when all that really matters is survival? 

Because we come to question ourselves, at the end of these courses, on our reactions, our dark thoughts, our dakest side, what we would be capable of doing to another person, but at the street corner, all these questions evaporate and our daily life is once again our only priority.

My arms hanging behind my back are numb and begin to irritate my bare skin. My legs covered with scratches and pieces of glass do not completely touch the ground, preventing my blood from circulating properly. The extremities of my damaged and weak body are cold and blue. The silence, interrupted every six seconds by this water hitting the ground, does not allow me to forget the hunger and what this imposed youth causes on my body. My wet hair falls on my face and clings to the gash on my lower lip. My head is allowed only one landscape: my mutilated body, covered in dirty underwear.

A dull noise then resonates on the other side of the unsanitary wall. I hear them walking. The door handle moves. The door opens a crack. Creaks. I see a foot, then a second. Black patent shoes. Dark gray suit pants. A dark blue shirt, accompanied by a suit jacket, slides behind the door. I then see his face. He is there. My breath stops. The sound of this drop of water crashing on the ground is now masked by the beating of my heart, causing reasoning in my entire body. 

He approaches me and crouches down:

- Hello Sasha. Are you happy to see me again?

I tremble but I try not to lower my eyes. He continues for me:- You were very difficult to find. I had to move heaven and earth to be able to contemplate you again, but you make my job easier. I admit that I didn't notice your natural beauty before today. What a beautiful work of art, isn't it? He asks the two men now standing behind him.

The two men look at me and snicker before being corrected:- Hey! A little respect for our dear Sasha, or, what is your name again? Tamara? No... Ta... The...

- Theodora, answers one of his henchmen.

- Theodora! How could I have forgotten such a strange name.

He stands up, revealing a smirk. He walks towards the two men and then turns around:

- You know, my little princess, I didn't just want to admire your pretty face. To be completely honest with you, you made me... how can I say it... a little bit angry. But now, seeing you, trembling, full of determination and hatred, I ask myself only one question: How are you going to get out of this this time?