Narcosis. Francisco Garófalo
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roughly by her right arm and looked like he was about to hit her in the face. I intervened immediately to prevent him from hitting her but with a single punch to my abdomen he knocked the hero to the floor. Carla tried to help me but couldn’t, her brother gave her a slap and dragged her away. I saw him dragging her from my position on the floor. They disappeared from my view and I never imagined that would be the last time I would see her.
I still think of that day during my eternal sleepless nights, imagining what might have become of her, what fate awaited her, what destiny had in store for her. Where had she ended up?
Ten minutes later I got to my feet and ran to look for Carla but my aunt had already heard what had happened, blocked my path, took me by the arm and marched me forcibly to my bedroom. Once we were inside, she gave me such a beating that I did not sleep for the whole night.
VI
The next day they took me to a boarding school claiming that it was best for my education. That was just a pretext. It was a good way for them to get rid of me and simultaneously put some distance between Carla and me, as well as preventing my aunt’s husband from finding out her secret.
They put me in a black van. I looked up at her window. Maybe she was behind the tinted glass watching my departure in tears, bidding me farewell from afar.
I sensed that she loved me. Perhaps it was simply a delusion, a daydream, a hope. A hope that I needed to sustain myself with life. A life I already regarded as lost, but she was the dream, my reason to live, to see her again one day and kiss her lips once more.
We arrived at the boarding school which was not the least bit pleasant. The walls were stained, the floors were in a state and there was a tense atmosphere. Wire mesh fences four metres high and the presence of numerous security guards gave the place the appearance of the prison that in reality it was. A prison for my aspirations, a confinement of my soul, my dreams, my life, my love.
We were received by the headmistress, a woman very advanced in years. She was called Josefina. She was very sour, unpleasant, had never married and therefore had never had children. She didn’t want to admit me to the school because I still did not have my identity card since my birth had never been formally registered. Officially, I had neither a first name nor a surname. My aunt gave her some money and told her to call me “Lorenzo”. The old lady accepted.
We know that problems can always be resolved like that. Those tricky situations. Money is the king of humanity. Of that sick humanity that thinks money solves everything. It buys many things but it will never buy happiness, not true happiness. Money is power and my aunt was demonstrating it.
Once we were inside the boarding school, doña Josefina preached a long sermon at me that seemed like it was never going to end. I pretended to pay attention. She read me the rules of her institution, but I have forgotten them.
They gave me a uniform and I was ready for my first day of lessons with the PE teacher.
Miss Rosa was the youngest of the teachers at just seventeen years of age. She had long legs, raven black hair, honey-coloured eyes and an angelic face. She welcomed me with an enormous smile and hugged me as though we were old friends.
The lessons went smoothly and without incident, so much so that I began to feel at home. That night my classmates got together to prepare a welcome for me. Or so I imagined.
When I went into the dormitory, they all gathered round me. I was scared, I thought they were going to beat me up but no, they just hugged me without saying a single word and went to their beds. I felt good. I thought that finally I had found a good place to live. It wasn’t like that. Things were about to change.
VII
At midnight they woke me up with punches, undressed me and threw me in a bath of freezing cold water.
They all laughed and shrieked, ‘Welcome to hell.’
In that institution there was a group of pupils made up of ten classmates who ruled the roost. The gang’s leader was a boy called Sebastián and his second-in-command was Marcos Maldonado.
I endured midnight beatings for years and there was nobody at all to defend me.
Once I went to the headmistress but Sebastián was the son of a successful businessman who was a great friend of doña Josefina, people told me. I was almost beaten for making false accusations.
‘I only have one rule,’ she said, ‘Never lie because if you do I will take it upon myself to correct your bad habit.’
She told me this while brandishing a bullwhip.
They didn’t let me sleep at night. They hit me and made fun of me.
Only one child watched from a corner. A boy who seemingly did not want to involve himself in this sort of problem. A boy who was isolated from all the others, perhaps with psychological problems, a boy whom I met and saw again.
We were children but we seemed like adults. With no responsibilities and full of hatred. A hatred that consumes you and burns you inside and that only revenge can extinguish.
I had to look for somewhere else to sleep.
I needed to flee from Sebastián’s mob.
I found a bath to sleep in. It became my sanctuary.
VIII
I reached ten years of age and I realised things had to change. I wasn’t willing to continue being the pathetic punch bag who puts up with everything without complaint. I didn’t want to keep on being the butt of jokes by all the mediocre people around me.
I had to do something to make everyone start to respect me.
I took one of the tablets that the school doctor had prescribed me. Those tablets really helped me to relax and feel more certain of my decisions. I can’t remember what they were called but I do remember that they helped me.
I got everything ready for my revenge.
I went to the kitchen without anyone noticing.
The cooks had gone home.
After cleaning up they had two hours off. I knew that. I had studied their routine.
This was my chance.
I picked up the knife, took it to my dormitory and hid it under my pillow.
I was ready to kill Sebastián. I had it all planned. When he went to bed, I would stab him in the chest with the knife.
I went to the bathroom and waited.
I was nervous. I didn’t know if I would be brave enough to do it.
I was filled with hate. I had never killed, not even an animal. My courage was seeping away but I had to do it. I took another tablet to calm myself down.
Midnight struck and I went up to the dormitory trying not to make any noise.
I opened the door that never closed properly; it almost creaked but I didn’t let it. I took a step forward, managing not to trip over the shoe rack, and made my way towards Sebastián’s bed. He was fast asleep. I lifted my hand ready to plunge the knife into his chest but my courage deserted me, I couldn’t do it, I had a sudden attack of morality that wouldn’t let me do it, or perhaps I was just scared of what might happen.
I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t brave enough.
I put the knife away under my pillow and went to my sanctuary.
The next morning the cleaning lady found the knife in my bed and informed the headmistress.
The headmistress sent for me straight away.
I went into her office and found her waiting with the bullwhip in her hand.
She didn’t ask me what the knife was doing in my bed, nor did she let me speak. She just started to whip me so hard that I ended up in the boarding school’s sick bay.
I