One: Noah Meets Yesha
913 Words
"Aren't you scared?" My heart almost stopped when I heard her voice close to my ear. If the ledge of the rooftop wall wasn't wide enough for my body, I would have fallen off. I opened my eyes and saw her face a few inches from my cheek. I turned my head to her.
"What should I be scared of?" I asked though I know what she meant.
She looked at me as if I said something crazy. "Aren't you afraid to fall there?" She leaned over the ledge and pointed down to the ground. "You always lay there like it was some sort of a bed or a couch. You don't seem to care that you might fall forty floors to the ground with one wrong turn." She explained when I still kept my gaze on her. "Aren't you afraid to die?" she asked.
I stifled a laugh. "Die?" I asked. "That's why I am in this place. I am waiting for death to take me away from this miserable world." I sat up and turned my back on her. My feet dangled on the edge of the wall. "I wonder why I need to die here if I could actually die elsewhere. Why can't I live my life as a normal teenager? They're keeping me confined in this hospital. They’re keeping me from living my life.”
“Don’t you think that they’re doing that so you could enjoy your life more by finding a way for you to live long? I mean, I don’t exactly know why you’re here but I’m sure you’re sick. You don’t seem to have been in an accident,” she said.
I scoffed. “Yey! You’re a genius! Of course I’m sick. Why would I be in this prison if I’m healthy?” I sarcastically said.
“You don’t have to be mean to me. I get it that you’re frustrated because you’re sick. But would it hurt you too much if you look at the good side of life?” she said.
“The thing is, not everyone is as privileged as you. Not everyone has something good to look at in their lives. The best thing some people are looking forward to will be the day they leave this hell-hole we call Earth.” I couldn’t hide the annoyance in my voice. “Not everyone has a reason to want to continue living their lives.”
“Do you really want to die?” She was staring at me intently. It’s like she sees something in me that I am not aware of.
I shrugged. “What’s there to live for?”
Her curious expression turned to a frown? “There are a lot,” she answered. “You can live for your family, for your friends. There are a lot of reasons to live if you just look at the right place,” she added.
I didn’t expect her to understand me, anyway. Just by looking at her, I can tell she’s living her best life. With the way she dressed, if they had not been nightgowns and pajamas, you wouldn’t guess that she’s a patient here. Her naturally silky smooth black hair looks as if it has never met any chemical hair products. Her plump cheeks are still rosy even under the pale moonlight, it’s so different from what I saw the first time I met her here. She’s been well taken care of, she’s been pampered – she is loved.
“Is there something on my face?” I was startled to hear her voice. “You’ve been staring at me for a little while now,” she said.
I scoffed. “I was just thinking how you really wouldn’t understand me,” I said. “You are pampered, you are loved. I guess you are wanted. So, you can easily enumerate your reasons to live.” I stared at my dangling feet. Looking beyond them made me feel dizzy.
“Well, you can make me understand. I’ll listen.”
I hesitated. I was never comfortable telling people what I think and how I feel. I was afraid to be judged, to be stereotyped. And besides, nobody really asked about it genuinely. Like, sure they’ll ask, but they were never interested to hear the answer. But here’s a girl – a stranger – asking me what I meant when I said there was nothing in my life that I would live for, wanting to understand me.
She reached and touched my shoulder. “Come on, tell me what you think. Tell me how you feel. Don’t keep those thoughts bottled up inside you. It will consume you,” she said. “I’ll listen.”
I looked straight into her eyes and she stared back at me. Her big round eyes tell me to trust her, it tells me that she’s interested and she won’t judge. “Come on, you can trust me.
I stifled a laugh. “Trust you? I don’t even know you. How can I trust you?” That was just an excuse to not tell her my story. But in reality, I would be more comfortable telling things to a stranger if ever I was given a chance.
I can feel her smile in her voice. “Well then, I’m Yesha. And you are?” She offered her hand from behind me.
I took it and shook for a second, then let it go. “Noah.”
- Writer
