Whispers of the Ancient Tree

The piercing wail of the alarm clock tore me from the gray, sleepy jungle. I had no choice but to open my eyes and get up. Again. The world greets me not with cheerful sunshine and birdsong, but with a dreary ceiling with a mold stain in the upper right corner. This has been ruining my mood for two months now. The thing is, it's mid-autumn outside. But the room is cold, because apparently the heating is only turned on in hell, and only for those who deserЫve it. I'm not one of them. At least, that's what the utility worker told me. I rise from my bed with the grace of a cat whose slipper has been kicked. It's clear: morning has truly arrived. My feet burn on the cold linoleum, and I wander, as if on autopilot, to the kitchen nook. Making coffee is an act of desperate hope. Maybe today, at least, it won't burn. I hate the taste of burnt coffee, especially in this miserable weather. "Excellent," I mutter, taking a sip of the scaldingly bitter liquid that was once ground coffee beans and is now my personal punishment for my inattention. In the bathroom, the mirror greets me with an expression of mild anxiety and fatigue."Good morning, monster," I say with a sigh to my reflection, "you again." The tap water is icy, but pleasant. It's refreshing, wakes me up faster, and removes the bags under my eyes. I dry my face with a towel and look at myself again. My dark brown hair, now tangled, like my gloomy thoughts at five in the morning. What else could you expect at such an early hour? My eyes are gray-green—like October puddles under an overcast sky. My nose is smooth and small, my lips rather ordinary and slightly plump, which has attracted envious glances more than once. Everything on my face is in place, everything works for the good, so to speak, but somehow it feels like it's not really my face. As if I've temporarily borrowed it from someone who knows why they live. I, unfortunately, don't know; I just live. My phone vibrated in the pocket of my red terrycloth robe. Lania's name appeared on the screen. My cousin. The one who owns this apartment. The same sweet and understanding girl who let me stay here... temporarily. I answered the call, mentally preparing myself for an invitation to yet another birthday party for her new friends or her in-laws. But I was mistaken. "Leah, hi! How are you, are you awake yet?" "Hi. Almost awake," I reply, trying to stifle a yawn with my hand. "Listen... I wanted to talk. As you can guess, it's finally over with Mikael... It's been tough lately, and now it's finally over. The court gave the green light for the divorce. And I have nowhere else to go, so I decided to move back into the apartment. Well, you know... I can give you a week tops. Sorry." I froze in shock for a few seconds, digesting what I heard, and then continued, agreeing: "Yes, I understand," I replied, still unsure what to do next. To keep from crying, I grabbed a strand of my hair and started twirling it around my finger. That always calms me down in difficult situations. "But don't worry, you have time. A week is an eternity to find a new place to live. I'm sure you can handle it. You'll do just fine, Lee. You're a resourceful girl, and I'm sure one of your friends will agree to put you up for a while." Yes, friends... The same ones I lost long ago. We've been together for twenty-five years now. Some got married and had kids, others left forever, and still others have simply changed over time and treat me coldly. Although, maybe it's me who's changed. In any case, they have other concerns now. I chatted with my sister for a bit longer and, with a forced smile, assured her I could handle it without any problem. Then I ended the conversation, sighed, and sat down, because standing was no longer an option. For some reason, my sister and aunt were always convinced I was the girl who could always 'handle it.' Small and agile. But I've grown up and been living the same life as them for a long time now. I have problems, I have feelings, I have limits to my strength and capabilities. I once had a plan: to study botany, work in a lab, and grow something useful and new—like medicinal plants. I also wanted to breed a new plant that would purify the air better than any conifer. And they accepted me. My parents even rented me a room closer to the university. And then... Two years passed, and then came the darkest morning in the world. A phone call. "The driver fell asleep at the wheel... there was no chance..." While I was grieving and studying, my parents' bank account ran out. I was left with practically nothing. So I was practically broke. I was expelled in my third year for poor academic performance. My emotions became distant, my heart felt like it had turned to stone, and I looked at everything with deep indifference. Although at times I wanted to howl, I hid this feeling deep inside. I worked at a car wash for a while, earning decent tips on top of my meager salary. It was enough to live on, and I lived in a dorm, but... Then this bright streak suddenly turned to darkness. The boss, with his slick, fishy gaze and hands that knew no bounds, drove me completely crazy. In response to his offer to "work together in the back room after shift," I responded rudely. I was in no mood at all. Then he put his tongue to my neck, one hand on my pelvis, the other on my chest... and that's when I couldn't take it anymore.