Fragments: A song for the girl who attempted suicide

Earlier today I wrote two posts. They helped me getting closer to the anger in this part.

I needed an end to part 3 of the book that lands it properly. That shows something of the gritty and nasty world that is the background of “Dreams”. This is the first half of that end.

Fragments: A song for the girl who attempted suicide

[Part of the end of chapter 20 and end of Part 3 of “Dreams” — first draft]

The lights went on. Focused on Maroun.

“I have a story for you,” he said, smiling. Sweating.

“Whether you are poor or a poser pretending to be poor.”

He pointed at some people on the side, close to me.

“Yeah. Talking about you, assholes,” walking in their direction. Putting lights on them. “In the next ten minutes you will show me some of your real love, or I will kick you out personally. And don’t think I am kidding here.”

He jumped up, came down, jumped up again, then walked back to center stage.

“Yesterday a good friend of mine tried to commit suicide. For all good reasons. She came to me the day before to ask for my fucking permission. I said: that is OK girl, go if you want to. But do it good.”

He looked at the people down below him. Caught my eyes as he did.

“The thing is: her fucking wearable does not allow her to do so. Her fucking shrink does not allow her to do so. Her fucking parents do not give a shit. I care, but I know that she is damaged beyond repair. The problem is that she once was a fucking Christian, connected to one of those fucking sects full of those fucking creeps who smile at you but want to see your face off the streets as soon as possible. Who look at your fucking coats with your fucking labels and logo’s and wonder what kind of charity they can start to keep your filthy sight from their streets. Who do not allow you to kill your mother when she is already hopelessly beyond saving from the cancer that is rotting her from the inside because that is not God’s plan.” He was shouting the last part.

“I say fuck you.”

He picked up his coat, put it around his shoulders again.

“Christians. Rich people. It was you who allowed this world to be fucked over by the Americans. To make trades with the devil and have this world raped by your pope and your priests and your toxic shit. It was you who crippled our society over and over again. Raping it like your priests did with your choirboys all these centuries. Putting your filthy wrinkly hands all over the smooth skin of society to see how many of you can enter our bung-hole with your dirty fingers while you choke us with your dick deep in our throats.”

He looked down and grinned.

“As you notice, I do not really have a high kind of respect for this shit.”

“She tried and she almost succeeded. She jumped off a building, but the drop did not kill her. And now she is in the hospital. By the mercy of her saviors she will be repaired to the point where she will be able to sit up again and digest food. With all of her body paralyzed.”

He kneeled down, sat down on the edge of the stage. “You see, when I grew up I worked for a season with a sheep-herder in the west of Catalonia, Spain. To commit suicide is quite normal. When a sheep gets sick from tumor or something else, it simply jumps off a cliff or drowns itself. It is the way animals in nature solve their own problems. But for some reason us people think we know better and throw some God in to give it more authority. Where it suits us best. And that god does not allow for suicide. Because that fucking asshole of a god will condemn you even further and kick you into hell as a bonus to all the suffering you already withstood during your life.”

He looked at me again, nodded slowly, smiled.

“You see, that is where I unsubscribed a long time ago. Thing is, her parents will not let go of her as mine did. And so she now will be fucked up, broken and paralyzed from the neck down. This song is for her. I composed it last night.”

He started something that hit me from the first second. And I stood there paralyzed and the tears flowing from my eyes long after that fucker stopped. I had to withdraw outside to recover, crying like I had not done for a long time.

End of fragment


This is still raw and I have to consider whether I will fix some inconsistencies in the speech or not.

It wraps up some lines I started in Part 3 of the novel: giving it a full and rounded ending before we plunge into Part 4 and chapter 21.

Maroun comes back in the 4th story in the sequence, with his own full story.


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