The list of sinners

...Donovan...

Three days had passed with the known unknown acquaintance in my house. Three days and despite her breathing within these four walls, she seemed not to be there. I didn't know her name nor what connection she had with the victim, but they seemed more likely to be close. She stood there staring from the street visible from the salon window. The food I made didn't touch her at all, not even enough to spoil it slightly. I knew her pain. I knew it so well that I understood it, but I hadn't taken the trouble to open up to her. In fact, I had never opened up to anyone in my life because it brought nothing but weakness in the eyes of others. She looked like a beggar seeking mercy, and nobody paid attention.

I lost my little one, and along with it, every joy I could have in life. After his death, life became gloomy, and everything was just endless studies. A child is like soft iron being worked and worked until it takes the shape the family desires. I had to do something because her pain and the solitude I was giving her and myself were not turning into anything else but an echo chamber for her suffering.

If she didn't talk a little, she could become silent, and she would never speak again. Usually, this phenomenon happened in small children, but it could also happen in adults. I read somewhere that the best way to understand someone else's pain was to speak about yours. I sat next to her, intertwining my fingers with hers.

"I know... I was very young when I lost mine," I began to tell her. "He died while serving the country's army. My mother made me believe that he wanted to leave us by making that choice, but on the other hand, I think he just wanted to secure a better place for us. I went through the toughest moments, and no one was there to console me. The walls of my room became my protection. Children need love just as they need water, food, and air. My mother became even colder than she was... she never gave me a hug or said a kind word to me. I remember she only told me not to cry and to hold my head high. After that incident, my mother decided we should return to Norway, giving the justification that nothing was left for her here. To distract me from everything, she made me read countless books, leaving aside the lessons I had. If I didn't achieve high grades, it was uncertain what awaited me... I mean, there was a variety of punishments I received... until..."

I paused for a moment. I had taken my hands on my sad memoirs that I had left for a long time in the shelves of my heart covered in dust. Often, I would open these memories in secret just to gain a perspective to help me better create my story. But without realizing, I was going too far, revealing even memories I didn't want anyone to know. I turned my back, taking a more serious and somewhat nervous look. I delved deep, trying to get past that paragraph of my life.

"Until... I continued my life here... I returned here again from Norway, where I lived for thirteen years, starting a completely new life. So many people like me learn the magic trick of self-healing. How to rise in silence... to be healed in silence. Perhaps all I said is just a superficial conversation or whatever you may call it, but for me, it was something, and in fact, the right balance at that moment. You must call yourself lucky in a way... and they call me Donovan."

"D-Donovan?"

Her almost childish soft voice echoed throughout the house. The fact that she started speaking after three days was like a miracle.

"Is your name Donovan?"

"Yes, I am Donovan... Donovan Mayfire."

As she was, seated with her face buried in her hands by the expression of astonishment, she burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.

"What's wrong? Did I say something I shouldn't have?"

"I-I wish I had known before... it's as if... maybe he could have met you before he left."