Chapter 1

• There were things that perhaps I did not understand or perhaps would never understand. But what I was sure of at that time was that if I didn't manage to make some money that night while working as a waitress, even just a few cents, I was going to commit suicide. And I didn't say it as a passing thought that I would forget later. My desperation was so great that the will to live had withered away long ago, and there was nothing that could change my mind.
• For days, I hadn't eaten like a normal person. The job I had didn't pay me as it should. I only earned about thirty dollars a month. By the way, I had already run out of money and I was only left rummaging through the fast food restaurant's trash to rescue something for my stomach.
• Between paying for the services of a disgusting apartment and trying to eat, there was no solution. I had managed to finish high school with low grades, as my priority at that time was trying to eat, not getting excellent grades.
• I didn't have the opportunity to pay for college, I didn't have the chance to get a decent job. I had sent millions of job applications to different places.
• They never called me.
• I got the waitress job one summer afternoon, when I begged the owner to give me a job, and I had the audacity to kneel at his feet to get a yes from his horrible and disgusting old man's mouth. I didn't like Walter, he was a short, bald, grumpy man who had taken advantage of my need to throw extra hours at me with little pay. I was grateful he hired me, but that didn't give him the right to insult me every time I did something wrong at work.
• I was destined to fail, to die of hunger and know that nothing would improve because I had put hopes in my life and that had not served me at all.
• That day I had everything planned, my suicide note and where I would hang myself, on sturdy pipes with a belt around my neck.
• I felt a certain melancholy for what I was thinking, but I was sure to carry it out because when I set my mind to something, I did it. And yes, I set out to take my own life that afternoon. While my self"esteem plummeted, Mr. Walter made sure to trample on it when it was down, with his disgusting dark shoes that sometimes stepped on excrement that he didn't bother to clean, allowing it to dry quickly on his sole."
• So, back to my disastrous present, that night the fast food place was packed with people, children everywhere and my patience about to cease to exist within me.
• Spoiled children demanding their parents to buy overpriced kids' meals that would end up ruining their finances. Parents rushing the waitresses to get their orders, and there I was, taking orders at the tables. Although I told myself "enjoy the last damn day of your life" I also told myself "break the legs of the lady who won't stop belittling you with her gaze."
• "...and please, four extra"large sodas with fries of the same size." said that stunning blonde lady who kept chewing her gum in such a loud way that it annoyed me."
• "Noted," I indicated, while finalizing her order.
• As I was about to head to the kitchen, the lady had the audacity to grab my wrist, forcing me to turn back to her.
• "Are you okay? You look pale, dear," she said, looking at me with a poorly disguised pity.
• How could I respond to that from a stranger?
• "Yes, don't worry. It's just the excessive hours of work crushing me like a truck," I laughed briefly to add some comedy to my life.
• "When was the last time you ate?" he insisted, still holding onto my wrist.
• "Today at seven in the morning."
• "For heaven's sake! Were you without food all day? Don't they pay you enough here?" her husband exclaimed, sitting next to her.
• The two children, who seemed to be the couple's kids, listened attentively to the most uncomfortable conversation of my life.
• "If I say my salary, they might fire me, sir," I apologized, feeling my cheeks flush.
• A huge hand landed on my shoulder and I jumped at the presence of Mr. Walter, who had shamelessly joined the conversation. I moved away to make him let go.
• "Is there something wrong with the waitress, gentlemen? Has her service bothered you?" he asked them, with a tone of voice that was worthy of my humiliation.
• "Do you allow your employees to eat during their free time?" the man asked, standing up to confront the situation.
• The man, whose hair was dark, wore a gray coat that reached his knees and seemed to be around forty years old, positioned himself in front of Walter, who seemed like an ant in the presence of that tall and large man.
• I saw Walter nervously swallow and shoot me brief glances. I rested my forehead on my hand, praying that all of this didn't mean "you're fired."
• Although... in a couple of hours, I would commit suicide so I was already dead in a way.
• "Our employees have two hours of free time to eat whatever they want. This work environment is super healthy, so don't worry about the well"being of our employees who are in the best conditions," Walter said, with a stupidly fake smile and feigned calm."
• "Shameless."
• The family and Walter turned towards me when my mind betrayed me and I blurted out that word unconsciously. I swallowed hard and didn't know where to hide. Although, that night I was going to commit suicide and I had nothing else to lose.
• "Those hours don't exist, we are being exploited by this bald man who farts on his hamburgers!" I dared to shout in front of everyone and the place became silent where there had been an unbearable noise of people talking. "We can't eat, he doesn't give us a break to rest, and if we protest, we run the risk of being fired! He also doesn't allow us to go to the bathroom during work hours! Do you know the last time I took a dump? I only do it at night when I get home because he doesn't allow us to do anything!"
• "Now I understand why the box of my burger smelled like old man farts!" a customer shouted, disgusted.
• I felt the furious, heated, and pleading gaze on me coming from my stupid boss. I took a few steps back, watching as most of the customers left the place and other employees began to insult him as if they had wanted to do it for a long time.
• I untied my red apron with the logo of the place from behind my neck and also the knot around my waist. I threw it to the ground and stomped on it, never taking my eyes off my boss who seemed to have the intention of strangling me at any moment.
• "Thanks for nothing," I spat, going to the cash register and taking out a couple of bills, taking my month's pay without intending to count it in front of his eyes.
• I left the place, in the middle of the night, with my dark bag hanging on my shoulder and wanting to cry. The situation at first seemed manageable, but my boss's face kept haunting me. His red face, even his bald head and clenched teeth, mute, but with such a threatening look towards me that I was sure to have nightmares... wait, that night was the last one.
• There would be no nightmares, no pain if I did what I had in mind for months. That night I would commit suicide, and I couldn't stop repeating it to myself as if something in me reminded me of my destiny.
• I could already see the name on my tombstone, and some distant relatives, maybe some schoolmates. I think my whole life was about gathering guests for my funeral.
• I arrived at the bus stop and it was eight o'clock on the dot on my phone. I sat on a small, cold, dark seat and looked both ways down the street, taking in what would be my last view of that huge city.
• It was interesting to see how a part of New York was beautiful in every way, the extravagant lights, the always lively people, the sound of cars passing by. Everything was captivating, but it didn't give meaning to my life.
• I couldn't enjoy the luxury that some were allowed, I couldn't find a reason convincing enough to stay on this earth.
• What I had planned to do was to die, I had it all planned out and in a way I felt proud of having organized that aspect of my miserable life, as grotesque as it may sound, it was true.
• The bus arrived and I got on, the driver greeted me, friendly under his cap and with a smile, he looked Asian. I returned the weak smile. I sat in the first seat I saw and told myself to look at the city one last time, because I knew that after that night, I wouldn't remember anything and my mind would fall into a deep sleep, one of those from which you never wake up and there is desperation in knowing if there is life after death.
• That would be stupid, I didn't want a life which is why I was going to commit suicide, duh.
• The apartment where I lived had five floors and was one of the most vulnerable in the outskirts of the city. I arrived and petted several cats that were wandering around. If it were up to me, I would have adopted them a long time ago but I could barely feed myself. I didn't want to condemn a cat to my fate.
• I climbed the stairs, with a tired body and so hungry that I might have bitten any neighbor to silence my stomach.
• With a sigh, I inserted the key into the lock of my apartment, which had a golden number seven worn out by the years. I entered and turned on the lights. Home, sweet home.
• The apartment wasn't nice, the walls were full of mold and peeling paint, with the old paint coming off. There was a TV that only had basic channels and a nice but super uncomfortable sofa, impossible to sleep on.
• Some furniture had come with the apartment, and I never had the luck to change them. I had no money, damn it.
• I left my bag on the table and went to the fridge, looking for something to eat. If I was going to die, I wanted to do it with a full stomach and a happy heart. So I treated myself to ordering food, and soon enough I had a pizza box on the table and a bottle of Coca Cola.
• Enjoy your meal, future dead person.
• The last supper had been delicious, a delight taken from the cash register of my former job and I wanted to eat in front of Walter to show him that I was eating during work hours. Screw you, Walter.
• I cleaned the whole house, with a certain melancholy, and I intended to leave everything spotless (even though everything was a mess) so that when they found me dead, the house would be in order.
• I made my bed, washed the dirty dishes, swept the floor, and finally took a shower. I shaved my armpits, and any part of my body that had hair bothering me.
• If I was going to die, I also wanted to be shaved and with smooth skin.
• I came out with a towel wrapped around my body and let out a long sigh when I saw that the belt was already prepared on the mattress of the bed. I put on some comfortable clothes and brought a stool into the room on which I would climb to tie the belt to one of the thick pipes in the ceiling. A rather annoying pipe since I didn't know exactly what it transported.
• Every night I looked at it and wondered if it would hold my weight on the day I hung myself. And that night I was about to find out.
• I was figuring out if there was anything else to do in this world that had given me nothing, so I decided to climb that stool (praying it wouldn't break) and forced myself to watch the sunset one last time. The moonlight gave me that caress that no one had ever given me and with a lump in my throat, I wanted to burst into tears.
• I guess that's how the short life of a young woman named Ada Gray ended.
• I looped the belt around my neck, feeling the uncomfortable leather against my skin. God, how difficult it all was. I closed my eyes and with a final sigh, kicked the bench and instantly hung myself, feeling my breath being cut off and the belt starting to scrape my neck.
• Something in me desperately wanted to save myself, and the desperate gagging, my sweaty hands trying to remove the belt, was a desperate struggle. Perhaps the human body wanted to survive, but my soul did not.
• Before I could completely lose consciousness, I heard someone kick the entrance door with such a racket that I opened my eyes wide, watching my bare feet being shaken by myself.
• "Shit!"
• The belt made me spin around, and just as I was about to be dragged by death itself, a man whom I couldn't even see but could hear. He lifted me in the air and desperately removed the belt from my neck, his nervous fingers caressing it.
• I passed out from lack of oxygen.