Escuridão

West Elderwood Street was fenced off. It was the taboo area that the adults warned their children about. It was home to the angry monsters and evil spirits that ate little boys and girls. It was a silent street – less silent and more ominous. The air was unmoving, but there was a sense of unease when one would pass by. It was quiet, too quiet; creating a faint sort of chill that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and form goose bumps on your skin. Tall, dead houses stared at the populace and unnerved them with their bleak emptiness. Even the adults were affected. No matter the how bright and sunny the day was – a clear blue sky dotted with clouds and flecks of a golden hue, West Elderwood Street would taint the view with its dark and gloomy atmosphere. No matter what, West Elderwood Street would always spoil the picture.

Agnes smiled. Something felt amiss. There was no warmth in her smile, no crinkling of her eyes nor the twinkle that was usually there. She shook her head slightly and the curtain closed. Her mop of hair shielded her eyes and her emotions from the world. From the society that hated her. Shunned her, even. But that was okay. She had something that nobody else did – the darkness. It had called to her in her time of need and soothed her. It comforted her when no one else would. She loved the darkness. And the darkness loved her.

There was full attendance in the classroom today, a surprising occurrence. The homeroom teacher questioned the class on what they wanted to become once they finished school. When it came to her answer, everybody hushed. The room was so soundless that one could hear a pin drop clearly. Agnes glanced, sideways, at the feeling of consternation amongst her peers, then straight towards the disapproval written all over the teacher's face. She could sense the adult's frustration: all the other girls wanted to be housewives and take care of their babies at home but Agnes wanted to go out and explore the world and not have children.

The other kids bullied her, because she was different. Maybe it was because she didn't want to turn out like them, all pretty and blonde and fake. The name calling hurt her, the bullying hurt her, she couldn't understand why they had to be so cruel. Even her parents gave her nothing but words of pure malice, leaving an empty feeling in her heart. How many times had she come home, dreaming of a loving smile or a gentle hug, only to be greeted by harsh words and disgusted looks. Too many times, she felt the darkness tempt her. Too many times she heard the whispers "End it all, end it all." Perhaps, she was as useless as they all said she was. Perhaps, the world didn't need this particular abomination.  It was then that she decided to join the night.

The knife was calling to her, and she could feel the darkness egging her on. It was crooning words such as "Relief" and "Peace" in her ear and she could feel the undeniable urge to just dig the blade in, just to see how it was like. Maybe it would stop all pain in her heart. Agnes touched the tip of the knife to her arm and the luminous silver gleam of the blade startled her into jerking back and she accidentally cut herself. Her skin burned. Oh, but only for a second! There was an impalpable flash of relief, however the airy sensation was still there. The change in her wrist was indistinguishable at first, but then the red colour came seeping out through the thin line and the red pearly drops fell. Drip, drip, drip. The off-white carpet now stained red. It was such a pretty red too. Not too bright, not too dark – but just the perfect shade. Enchanting, almost.

She remembered once reading a book – A Noite Escura. It made her tingle from within and she felt the darkness subdue for a while. It made her heart race and her mind run wild. For such a superstitious race, the Portuguese wrote fine literature about the obscure and questionable. Reading that book made her feel stronger, like she didn’t need the darkness. That she was better than it. But then the book ended.

And the darkness consumed her once again.

West Elderwood Street was Agnes' secret. Unlike those who shied away and hid from it, she embraced it. She spent most of her afternoons after school enshrouded in its shadowy clutches and each time she left it and re-emerged into society, she felt a bit more detached. She had become really quite an expert, she thought, at ignoring all the looks and comments about her. That didn’t mean she couldn’t feel the pain, or the hate surrounding her. The fire she felt was hidden deep, deep inside her, subdued. Sometimes, she felt the flames lick her boundaries. But then she'd rein them in. It just meant she was learning to do it better. Then again, she felt that she seemed a bit blacker across the edges. She was blurring into the darkness. Or perhaps it was blurring into her. Either way, she could feel herself drowning within the confines of herself.

She knew they thought they knew her. That she was just because she was different, she was mad. But in reality, she knew that in a warped way, she was sane, and they were the insane ones.  They were all just clones of one another. Repetitions of the one movement. They all preached their 'Holy God's' word and recited from the Bible but were hypocritical in their actions and exuded an air of superficiality which was as shallow as lakes in the desert. If they themselves couldn’t follow what they preached, couldn’t they see for themselves that there was no God?  No, nothing was proved, and thus nothing is known. In the end, it was just her and her darkness, against the rest of the world.

This time, she wanted to go further. If she went further, would there not be greater satisfaction? There was a strange tingling in her hands and arms. She admired them, all covered in the fascinating red hue. That seemed like a lot more blood than usual. Fingering the cut in her neck, she felt a pang of worry. The darkness was leaving her fast and taking away with it the drugged feeling that anaesthetic brought. Agnes scowled. The pain was getting more and more intense, with the tingling sensation spreading across her whole body but focusing more around her cut. Her eyes blurred and her vision flashed a blinding white.

Moments of her past surfaced to the front of her mind. Memories of being helpless, memories of what the bullies did to her already low self-esteem. The feeling of retreating into herself and not responding to her counselor. Her parent's looks of disappointment and anger. The gossip amongst her fellow classmates. Her descent into her spiral of darkness, when it found her. But then what about the feeling of warmth? And the colours? Pretty pastel colours that could not be found in the doom and gloom of West Elderwood Street. The fondness of the sun lavishing her skin and caressing her body. The enjoyment from watching butterflies scatter and birds chirping and singing. Agnes appreciated how the stray animals in the park liked her, they nuzzled her and played with her. It felt much nicer than when the darkness was sucking her up. Sucking up the very essence of herself. She didn’t like the feeling of losing herself with the darkness. It was like she'd never get that part of herself back.

The pain forced her mind to be clear. She saw everything again from opened eyes. She understood. As her sight returned, her mind was still in clarity. After a moment of deliberation, Agnes stood up, dropped the knife, and walked out of West Elderwood Street.