They can’t take me.
I still don’t have papers.
Papers.
Papers,I repeat in my mind. And suddenly everything comes back.
I called the number and went to that guy's apartment.
That guy.
Jared Sutton.
He promised papers if I do what he says.
Jared Sutton.
I see his face crystal clear in my mind.
Silence in me.
I get up.
“Please, Miss, you need to rest and calm down,” says one of the EMTs.
No. I don’t need to calm down.
I need to get away.
And I run.
As fast as I can until I collapse in some park, hidden behind bushes.
I am freezing so badly that my fingers are white, turning blue.
I don’t care.
I could die here.
I should die here.
My life is such a mess, it is not worth living.
My eyes rest on my blue hands.
I lie down on the cold ground and look at the sky, illuminated by the light framing the park, with only the brightest stars visible.
I cannot end a thought.
The pain in my chest is killing me.
I stretch my arm, almost as if I can grab the stars above me.
My bracelet slides down my arm.
The bracelet I have been wearing since the night in Palermo.
The bracelet that somehow meant peace to me.
