After D(e)ad Scenario

9 January 2015, 2.00 pm
Let me tell you one thing. This piece of paper is not a kind of confession. No one will ever read this and everything’s better being buried along with that crushed body.

I didn’t find anyone else who can hold himself from telling others what I was about to tell. People just a broken piece of glass that can’t have any water filled into. As soon after I told them, they would whisper it throughout the world. I trust no one.

But I find myself being crazy not to able to tell anyone about this frustrating thing. So then I find myself a piece of paper and pen instead of a couple of ears. So that at least I can talk to myself silently.

I might have killed someone this morning.

9 January 2015, 9.00 pm
I have gathered informations from the accident location. A man who claimed himself being around when the accident occured said that he neither saw the identity number of the car nor remember what color the troubled car was.

He said that the man I killed... no, no, precisely, the man who bumped his motorcycle to my beloved car is still alive and has been brought to hospital.
With this kind of situation, logically I should be relieved. But I can’t deny myself that I wish him not to.

9 January 2015, 3.150 am
I can’t sleep. Should I tell someone? Maybe someone can help.

But I’m scared to hear questions.

10 January 2015, 11.05 am
I came to the hospital. Seems like he has been brought to ICU. I heard people talking that he is no longer awake, but still breathing. He is in a comma.
I saw many people came. The brown-dressed woman in the corner outside the ICU room kept received handshakes from people. Was that his wife? Her face was swollen. And red. And tired. I saw a boy held her hands while they were alone. Some people got in and out from ICU.

The hospital is stink, even this cafetaria. I still wonder why did I have an eager to come? To visit him and ask for forgiveness?
Or just make sure I know exactly that he will never be able to tell others anything anymore?

The soup in my mouth tastes bitter.

10 January 2015, 1.20 pm
I wonder why, I still sit in lines of chair not far from ICU, observing. The wife is still in the same spot she sat before. I can’t see the boy around. But I see two girls bringing some food for the wife. Are they his daughters?

Those two feeds her. They seem alright. A little quarrel when the wife refuses to eat more. The boy comes out, and the shorter girl enters the ICU. She brings a book with her. Alquran.

My heart felt like jumping out and then dropping.
Suddenly I remember about sin.
Just a little.

Being escorted to jail is more frightening.

10 January 2015, 4.00 pm
I bumped unconciously to the shorter girl when I rushed to the toilet. I think she was in a hurry too, with fast steps to the main corridor while calling someone.

I was scared to death. Don’t look at my face, don’t look at my face, I mumbled.
She stopped. And bowed to me. She apologized for bumping me.

From the first place, why should she apologize?

10 January 2015, 00.43 am
It’s quiet. There are people outside the ICU. Two of them have been my interest for these 24 hours. The wife lays on the chair with a blanket. The other, the shorter girl, reads Alquran and sometimes checks her handphone. Receiving some calls. Few minutes later the boy comes out from ICU. They talk for awhile and then he sits on chair in the opposite corner.

They must be tired.
I am also tired. When will this end?

11 January 2015, 9.17 am
More people are coming. Seems like the man in ICU is a good man. People don’t stop visiting him. I hear their consolations. Some of them hug the wife and cry. Most of them are middle age women. The men are shaking hands with the boy and some other people that I think maybe they are his family.
A thought comes to my mind: I might have killed a descent man. From 24 hours observing, seems like the man comma in ICU is a family man, loving and caring for people. This family has so many people care for them.

A nice man, he was, not a coward like me.

Hey, if I come to your family and tell them about our bloody meeting yesterday on the bloody road, will they forgive me?

11 January 2015, 1.11 pm
It’s a real frustating to see people crying over a body. People in cars, motorcycles, keep coming and make the hospital corridor full. They hug each other, they wipe each other’s tears.

It’s not like the first time I see death.

15 January 2015, 2.52 am
Go away, damn you! You have died, so behave like one!

I saw you days ago being buried with white covering your entire body. Some weeks later your body will just be worm’s living source. You are no longer alive. You are no longer exist. So stop messing up my dreams!

You must be suffering, right? It must be a lot of pain. You have the every right to hate me, curse me. Do it, then!
Stop smiling and saying that you are alright. Stop behaving like you forgive me!

16 January 2015, 11.48 pm
This apple tastes the best. How could this apple be so sweet?

I should stop writing before it being a habit. While writing my last words, I keep peeling the apples with a knife. The fresh red apples look beautiful. Do I remember something? Ah, the red is just like.... what is it?

He comes again. AGAIN. Stop smiling, you have died!!
Okay then. Since you are so annoying, let me settle the things.

It’s a very pleasure feeling, having my knife stab you in the chest, repeatedly, destroying your smiling annoying face. Again! Again! Again! You must be surprised know, heh? I might coincidentally kill you last time, but I can freely kill you again.

The red covering my papers. It’s not the red from the apples... Is that?


Written in Depok, May 2015
Annisa Qurani