Trafika Europe 11 - Swiss Delights

Mariella Mehr

so that they will leave her alone. someone carries silvia upstairs, covers her in her room with a white blanket. someone speaks to silvia. the blue nightlight glows. a child spies through the small doorframe into the room. it is the girl with the read dress. silvia perceives everything, but silvia does not know who she is, does not know what happened. silvia lost herself, she was de-ranged because of pain. why? why did they do this? why? how evil must silvia be that they had to punish her in such a way. i was not sick. i was not deranged. nonetheless, you did all this to me. i only defended myself, that sufficed to turn you into beasts. at times i screamed to voice my rage, its source was your lovelessness, your injustice. and at times i withdrew into myself because i was no longer able to endure your false noise, your lies. at times i remained mute for days, mute with loneliness and fear. but all of this was not enough to satisfy your cruelty. you punished me almost before i began to live, you crippled me slowly for years. i was not a dear, gentle child. but you did not give me a chance, you left me no choice. do you remember, sister hanna maria: “you have to fight against yourself, silvia, not against the others.” why didn’t i spit into your cold face, that expression of frozen benevolence. on the contrary, i denied myself still more, fight against my rage still more, my hate, against the infinite feeling of despondence — and you,

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