she was rushed into the emergency room. two, three doctors ran in after her. there were about half a dozen nurses surrounding her when i last saw her – just before they closed the doors of the operation theater. i stood looking at the door – my mind being unable to function. why? why would she do such a thing? and why my car? why?
i guess i should have first asked myself who she was. but all i could think was – why?
someone gave me a little water and made me sit down. my phone kept ringing, but i didn’t want to touch it with my bloody hands. after a while the shock began to wear off. it was replaced by fear. would i be responsible? responsible for some other woman’s life? would i have to live with this all my life? no – i couldn’t. maybe she wouldn’t die. maybe i could help her…
after an eternity or so, they came out. they shook their heads and walked off. i sat there, quietly. after sometime, they took the body away. tears slipped down my face. and then it all went black.
when i woke up, my husband was sitting by my bed. there was a nurse somewhere in the corner. he took me in his arms and asked me something. everything went black again. when i woke up he wasn’t there. no one was. i couldn’t believe that it had actually happened. a woman took her life and i aided her in it. they slowly took me out of bed and brought me home.
soon, we found out who she was. another wife. another mother. and yet another life. her family had forgotten her birthday – again. she hadn’t felt needed or wanted in a long time – too long. she was helpless and she couldn’t handle it. she wanted out. she didn’t know how to get out of a messed up marriage and a thankless motherhood where she saw her kids for a few hours every year. but she did know how to get out of life. and she did…
the crime of forgetting..