A Gate to Heaven

Chapter 2

Jayven

Fortunately, she is awake. I was afraid she would never get up again. How long did she lie there on that cold gray asphalt? More than three hours. Time enough to regain consciousness and start her new life. But not yet. First she has to find out who she is. Or rather, what she is.

I retired to a narrow alley opposite where she now stands. That way I can keep an eye on her without her noticing. My blue eyes are completely on her while I carefully study all her actions. At first she doesn't seem to understand the whole thing. She sits up carefully, controlled, as if she doesn't want to hurt herself. But the pain is no longer there. She now finds out herself, because I see that she touches herself in all possible places where it could hurt. When she rubs her head, which now has a thick red blood crust on it, she pulls a strange face. At least before my eyes. It is as if she is relieved that she was still injured somewhere. That she is not going completely crazy, as she probably thinks. That she can just cycle home quietly and join her parents, as if nothing had happened at all.

But I know she will never be able to do that again. She may pretend it isn't, but the hard truth is that she will have to come with me. She will have to accept her new life and face that everything is better than death. Even better than her old life. Fortunately, she certainly was not. I have understood that by now. It is no small thing if you are bullied, harassed and humiliated day by day by a group of young people who think they can handle the whole world. That everyone will step aside for them. It is these groups of young people who will later take power within a company or in politics or eventually end up in jail. I fear the latter for this group. Especially Mare is a special case. Fortunately, she does not have her name. It is not part of our mysterious world up there. And she can never join our big family like Syra. The bullied girl becomes the happiest girl in the entire Universe, happier than she has ever been on Earth.

Too bad I can't introduce myself to her yet. I have to be patient and let her calmly discover what's going on. From the dark shadows of the alley I watch intently as she shrugs, bends forward to grab her bike and return home. And immediately I see that the relieved expression on her face turns into mild panic. Oh dear. She lost her bike. What a disaster. Of course I have no idea what it feels like, how it should feel for all people to lose something important, but somehow I just know that she is about to burst into tears. And I also know that she goes out of her way to swallow her tears. She wants to keep strong. She doesn't want to be a wimp. It makes me start to respect her more and more. She may not think she's worth anything, but when I see her like that, she's the prettiest girl I've ever seen. Certainly because her face, which seemed so horribly dead just after her accident, has again turned into an angel face. Her dark brown eyes, her full pink lips, the freckles on her nose, the dimples on her cheeks when she allows herself to laugh at rare moments... Everything about her is wonderful. The only thing missing is the white circle of light that floats around all the beings of our family. But that too will come soon enough.

I follow the rest of her actions. She takes her phone out of her pocket and tries to call someone. Of course, I can't see or hear who she's trying to call, but I'm guessing she's desperately trying to reach her parents. The frustrated look in her eyes almost makes me sad. I feel sorry for her. I know no one will see that it is her. That there is nobody answering the phone. Because they don't notice. Because they no longer feel her presence. The all-determining presence of her soul. If that disappears, there is nothing left. I know that all too well.

She calls four times, but she always hears that eternally annoying voicemail. Eventually she can't take it anymore and throws the phone against a fence that happens to be there. Without seeing it, I hear that the glass of her screen is broken by the impact. She starts swearing and crying and for a moment I'm afraid she's going to hurt herself. Fortunately, that does not happen. She tries to calm herself down by breathing in and out very deeply.

Then she suddenly starts talking. I listen carefully, because she is muttering to herself.

"Okay, okay," I hear her whisper. "Keep calm, Syra. You will find a way to get home. Just stay calm and everything will be fine. You pick up that stupid phone, you walk home and when you don't know the way, you just ask someone. Don't be too difficult."

Perfect. Just as I hoped. Everything is going according to plan. She is going home now and there she will finally find out what's going on. I can almost feel how scared and frustrated she is. She longs for her familiar surroundings, for the dinner her mother has prepared for her, for the warm bath she will take afterwards and for her soft bed, where she can fall asleep and leave this day behind for good. Those are well-known desires that I still struggle with somewhat. Even though I never knew a real home, I would have preferred everything to be different. That I also had a mother and father with whom I could come home. That I could also lie in a warm bed and eat tasty warm meatballs with a few baked potatoes. I wanted so badly that I could have lived among the people, if only for a moment. But unfortunately I never knew that happiness.

My look becomes blurry and suddenly I notice that tears are running down my cheeks. Hey, damn it! I can't cry. Certainly not now! Syra is a thousand times heavier than me!

I frantically wipe the tears from my face and without thinking I kick the stone wall of the alley. And immediately I know I made a mistake. The beautiful head of Syra jerks around in the direction of the alley where I am hidden. Shit! What now?

"Hello?" I hear her calling in a tiny voice. "Who is there?"

I dive even further into the shadows and hope she doesn't see the white circle around my body. Oh, I hope she's not yet completely transformed to notice! I close my eyes unnoticed to make myself even more invisible and I pray to the Heads of our family. Please don't show her to me! She can't discover me yet!

At first my prayers don't seem to have been answered because curious as she is she starts walking towards the alley. Her dark brown eyes search nervously, looking for any sign of life. Syra, get out! Go home! Do what you have always done! Do it while you still can! I beg you!

"Mare?" she suddenly shouts. "I know it's you! Do you want to make fun of me again, just like this afternoon?"

She calls it tougher than she feels. I can see in her whole body that she is terribly afraid. Afraid of more harassment. Afraid of more abuse and threats. It infuriates me. But I'm not mad at her. I am angry with all those people who have ever wanted to harm her. Look what they did to her! Her body is tense, her arms and legs tremble, and she nervously licks her lips, trying to contain her tears. She does everything she can to look tough, but that attitude ensures that she makes herself even smaller and more helpless than she already seemed. She makes herself an easy prey.

Again I turn my gaze to the sky. I pray again that she should leave. If she finds me here, it's done. Then she will certainly commit suicide and we will have lost this beautiful soul for good.

Those thoughts seem to have more influence. When I open my eyes carefully and look at Syra, who is dangerously close to the alley, I see that she hesitates to get closer. On the one hand, she is curious about who made that terrible noise, but on the other hand she wants nothing more than to go home and forget everything. I can feel it.

And my feeling turns out to be right. She turns carefully to the road where she was just lying, picks up her phone with slow movements and peers with a pout at the huge crack in the screen.

"Daddy won't be happy about this," I hear her mutter. "This is the third phone in four weeks to break. And this time it's really my own fault. "

Then she puts the device back in her pocket, straights on her shoulders, crosses the street and starts walking towards her house. Without her bicycle. Without her backpack. Without any company. I'm the only one walking along with her. At a safe distance.