A Gate to Heaven

Chapter 1

Syra

Where am I? That's the first thing I wonder when I open my eyes. Am I at the hospital? At home in bed? Did anyone take me or just leave me for dead? I wouldn't be surprised if the latter were the case. All my life people have seen me as some good-for-nothing. Scolded me. Beaten up. Mentally humiliated and abused. And they just happened to do that because my mother is from Turkey. Because I am "half foreign", as they always said so nicely to me. Because my skin just happens to be slightly more tinted than that of my classmates, who shouldn't have anything of "my kind". It always hurt me when they looked at me that way. But it was even more painful when they ignored me and said nothing. Their eyes turned to me with looks that spoke more than a thousand words. It was in those moments that I really felt like a good-for-nothing. Someone who doesn't matter. I've wished myself dead for so many times.

Well, here I am. Come and get me. It better be over. Mommy and Daddy will grieve for me, I'm sure. But otherwise, no one will miss me.

I feel curious around me. My hands hit something hard and I immediately know that I have never been separated from the asphalt. I'm still there. I should have known about the grey sky above me now that I think about it. But yes, if you have just had a serious accident, you do not immediately think logically.

Immediately my eyes shoot in all directions. Nobody is around. No one who may have hit me and no one who has seen anything. The streets are deserted, as if it were war. As if everyone has withdrawn into their own safe den and no longer intends to come out. To help a pitiful girl in need. Well, it will be. I am secretly glad that the person who hit me drove on. Then at least I can pick up my bike, go back home and pretend nothing is wrong. When Mommy sees my abrasions, I will say that I have tripped. She won't believe me, but it's actually still true. I have also tripped. But not because I was clumsy. Apparently Mare liked to stick out her foot, just when I happened to walk by. She probably thought I was getting too close to her and she wanted to do something about that "foreign piece of shit". I now know all her swear words by heart. And the rest of my classmates too. But I don't want to think about that now. I want to get up and go home.

I put my hands on the asphalt and carefully lift myself to my feet. Somehow I expect to feel pain, but I don't feel anything at all. While I am sure that just before I passed out, a fierce stab went through my body. Where the hell did that stitch go? I feel everywhere: my knees, my elbows, my feet, my side. Nowhere can I discover anything. No pain, no scratches, no internal bleeding and no broken bones. Not even a concussion.

That's when I realize that's where I felt the painstroke. Immediately I reach for my head to make sure I'm right. But nothing special can be felt even on my mind. I rub and rub and ... don't be surprised to see my hand turn red when I pull it back. So anyway. I bled a bit. But it feels like it has already stopped. Fortunately. I don't think about what would have happened if I had come home with a huge head wound. How on earth could I have explained that?

With that question in mind, I try to get up from my sitting position. Strangely enough, it is quite easy for me. My body does not work against me and although the blow of a car should feel heavy, I do not even stagger. Everything is good. Normal. Like I'm some mythical creature that never gets hurt.

Immediately I shake my head at that silly thought. Come on, Syra. You're not twelve anymore, are you? Fairy tales don't exist! You just grab your bike, you go home and you don't tell your parents about this strange accident that apparently no one is aware of.

And immediately after that thought has jumped out of my head, I know that it will be quite a job to get home. No matter how I search and how I look around, my bike is nowhere to be seen. He is missing. Gone. Just like the driver who hit me.