THE OTHER HALF

CHAPTER 3

THE YELLOW SCARF.

And there she was, breathing a cold air.

And there he was, dead in a cold earth.

All the things that she was doing in that moment, all the things that she will do in her future, looked like so many possibilities. So many possibilities that seemed so empty.

Lebana hadn't even seen the body of Boris, she just knew that under the earthen mounds, was Boris.

She didn't notice that she was digging with her hands until they started bleeding. That didn't stop her. She knew the kind of person that Anabel was. She had to warn Boris, even if she was hurt.

Lebana may have been digging with her hands for minutes or centuries. She did not notice. The concept of time seemed to have disappeared, as did physical exhaustion, tranquility, and Lebana's ability to react to stimuli.

The worst part, is that she knew something like that would happen. It hurt more than anything: to know that it was going to happen and not have the guts to have stopped Anabel before. Boris was only the drop to overflow the glass, but Anabel had long wanted to take Lebana to that point, where she lost all connection with the little sanity she had left.

That's why she had killed the dog. That's why she'd shown her Greg's pictures. Because she knew that at some point, Lebana would not tolerate more, and once and for all, she would be hopelessly broken.

When she finished digging, there was no body. Nor were there bones or human parts that gave her the hint of a homicide. As we had said before, Anabel was very dramatic. And the story did not end with Boris's body cold on the floor. Actually, there was a picture of Boris dead. He was lying on his back on the floor, a floor that was not the one in the clearing where Lebana was.

His eyes were opened, his mouth was rigid in an expression of despair. Lebana's heart fragmented into hundreds of parts, and although she felt the earth turn again (fast, furious, around the sun and herself), her body was paralyzed holding the photo.

It was not the only thing in that hole in the ground. There was also the yellow scarf. The sky was already contaminated by stars, all of them looking sadly at Lebana, when she turned the photo, now with no purpose. Then, as some part of Lebana's brain assumed, she found Anabel's letter.

Lebana, I'm so sorry I had to do this. But what choice did you leave me? You did nothing to save our dignity. Boris was our boyfriend for five years. Five fucking years. And after seeing pictures of how he did it with another girl you sent him text messages asking him to go home.

I know it does not justify killing him (if you still care about that bastard, in honor of the good times, I made him not suffer), but it was the only way to make you want to live no more.

Boris, who deliberately slept with another woman a few blocks from our house, is no longer there. He died, and you do not even know where his body is.

Lebana, you must think I'm a monster. But killing him was my best letter to get rid of you and the life you lead. You have a horrible job, in a horrible neighborhood, you live under the effect of lithium and all the drugs that Dr. Finnigan gives you. It is as if you wait for the day of your death, and with joy I tell you that it has arrived.

I will use the body permanently now, in the same way that you do it. If at any moment you regain control momentarily, you will find yourself in a different place, where no English is spoken, where your mother, siblings and Rost will not be. Because that will not be your life anymore, Lebana.

I regret that things are like this. I know when I gave you the yellow scarf I promised we would do this together, but actually, you were just doing it yourself. When I said "no" it meant an increase in the dose of everything and in losing myself in the blackness for months.

No more. I return the scarf and my promise, because from now on I want to have my life, and not share it with anyone.

PS I already filed the police report on the Greg affair, and I also testified. That bastard did not go unpunished for harassing us for years.

Anabel.

When Lebana finished reading the letter, she saw the photo of Boris again. Anabel was right. She did not live. The only thing that made her feel alive was Boris. But he cheated on her. Then she had nothing left.

Perhaps Anabel had done justice with Boris, who deceived them both, and Greg, who harassed them, but Lebana could not forgive her. That's just not the way to fix things.

A deep emptiness began to seize her chest. What was she going to do? She wanted to take revenge, to make Anabel suffer the same way she was suffering, but how?

She went to the car and looked for the Swiss knife of Boris. She did not have many options to hurt Anabel. She knew very little about her friends, nor did she know what she was doing when Anabel seized the body. Then there was only one way to hurt her. To really hurt her.

As she returned to the forest clearing, next to the photo and the yellow scarf, she thought of Anabel rather than think about what she was about to do. If only Anabel had not been so cruel. But it was not worth it to assume situations that were never going to happen. In Anabel's plan, she destroyed her emotionally and kept the body to herself, and thus enjoyed an independent life.

Lebana sat in the hole she'd dug with her own hands in Boris's metaphorical tomb. She wrapped the yellow scarf around her neck and, in a fluid movement, slid the razor down her wrists to the forearm vertically.

She did not feel bad. Lebana did not feel anything. Just the feeling that for the first time, she made a decision on her own.

She still had mobility in her arms, so she covered her face with the yellow scarf. Anabel used to leave notes to her, little reminders that she existed. Lebana rarely corresponded to those notes with words, she used to do with actions. This time (Lebana hoped it was the last one) was no exception.

The first thing Anabel would see would be the scarf, stained with blood, their blood. That was the price of broken promises, Lebana thought.

Lebana had trusted Anabel, but she failed her. What Anabel did not know, she had also trusted Lebana; she hoped she would never defend herself. Lebana would also fail her, and she did not feel even a hint of regret.

She dropped her head back, closed her eyes, and let the blood flow. Peace seized her. She felt a peace so deep that when she was leaving the body, she felt Anabel for the first time in her life. It was a thousandth of a second in which an overwhelming hatred flooded every cell in the body they shared. Lebana, with the last control on her body, smiled. Then she knew nothing else, everything was blackness, and never again in life was she again conscious of being in this world.

 Just like Anabel.