You slowly open your eyes and stare at the ceiling. Your head hurts. You try to think, but the pain doesn’t let you. “What day is it? What time is it?” You reach out to your phone. Zero notifications. Even your mom didn’t call. Why should she? 

You waste two hours of your life on Instagram. These people are graduating, travelling, drinking, and having fun, while you lie in this bed. You are pathetic. 

You drag yourself out of the bed. Your vision goes black when you stand up. You blink several times to restore it and go to your window. The city continues to live, but you are not there. The sunlight irritates you, and you close the curtains. 

You go to the toilet, and don’t close the door. You sit on the toilet, but there is nothing. You haven’t had your period in 3 months. Or more? You can’t even go to the toilet like a normal person. 

You head to the kitchen. You open the fridge. There is a single plate with cheese on it. You see the cheese is covered in mold. You want to puke. You close the fridge. You didn’t want to eat anyway, did you? If you eat more, people will see that you are fat. Do you want them to hate you more? 

You go back to your room, lie down, and turn the TV on. You go to Netflix. “Friends.” They are talking about a wedding. Isn’t that silly? The background laughter irritates you. You turn the TV off. 

Your phone buzzes. It is an email. 

“Dear May, 

I was worried about you since it has been 3 weeks since the semester started, and you did not show up in my class. Some of your peers told me about what you had to go through last summer. Is there anyone you can talk to about it? I understand that it must be tough for you; please let me know if I can help you with something, or contact the university administration. 

Best regards.”

You stare at your phone. What did you have to go through? Why is it tough for you? What do your peers know? This professor doesn’t care about you. You put the phone down. 

His question echoes in your mind, “Is there anyone you can talk to?” 

Do you really think people have time for your problems?

Your stomach is yelling angrily at you. But you can’t eat. You want to check the fridge again. But there is nothing in it. Why are you so stupid? 

Your phone buzzes. You see that there is a message from N. You don’t want to read it. You want your stomach to shut up. You don’t want to move. Moving causes problems. But your body needs food. You think that it can go without food. Why do you even need food? Food is stupid.

You get a phone call. Who the fuck calls in 2020? It is N. You want your phone to stop ringing. Your head hurts. You are a bad person. 

You wake up from your afternoon nap at 7 pm. You have slept for a whole day. You hear a knock on the door. You drag yourself out of bed again. You look through the peephole and you see N. She is standing in her pink coat. “Why is N here?” you think. Just pretend you are not here. She won’t notice. 

“May? Hi? Can you please open the door?” she says. 

Why should you? You stand there staring at N through the peephole. N hates you for what you’ve done. Why would she come here? Look at you. You are a mess! Complete mess. N hates you. 

“May, I won’t leave until you open this door!” N yells. So be it. You won’t leave either.

You go back to your room. “Why would she come here?” “Isn’t she…” 

“May, please open!” you hear. 

You try to ignore her. You pick up your phone. You sit on your bed, and you feel that you are running out of air. You hear the endless knocking. Your phone falls out of your hand onto the floor. You try to pick it up, but your hands are shaking. Your body is shivering and you see your eyes darkening. You start sweating. Why are you sweating, isn’t it cold outside? Is there anything you can do right? 

You run to the toilet, but you hit the doorway with your body. Ignore it. You reach the toilet and you start puking. Your puke is yellow, and it is water-like. 

“May, is everything OK?” 

N is still there. Why the fuck is she still there? 

“Go away! Leave me alone!” you yell. Now she knows you’re here. 

“May, open up, let me help!” 

“Go away!” you scream. No one can help you.

N behind that door, in her best clothes, that pink coat, trying to make you feel bad. She looks better than you. She pities you. She looks at you the way people look at terminally ill patients. This is the only reason she wants to help. You hate N. No, she hates you.

You don’t remember how you got back into bed. You check the time. 2 pm. How long did you sleep?

You head to the toilet. You don’t close the door. Nothing again. 

 You hear someone knocking. These sounds give you a headache. “Why is N. still here?” You hope that it is your mom. You don’t even check the peephole, you open the door. It is your mother in her purple dress she wore to your graduation. You hug her. You start crying like you have never cried before. You ask your mother where she has been for so long. You say that you do not want to live like this anymore. 

“Dear, I am not your mother,” you hear her saying. 

You stare at her. You fall to your knees. You now see that she is not like your mother. She is taller, and bigger; she looks like she could have eaten your mom. How could you have thought that it was your mother? No surprise, she doesn’t call you. 

“Darling, there was a woman searching for you yesterday,” she says.

You stop whimpering. 

“I know. It is N. She hates me,” you say.

You stare at her as if she asked you something you didn’t understand. 

“Can I come in, darling?” she says. 

She smiles at you. 

Do you know this woman? Who is she? Why is she trying to come into your apartment? 

“No,” you say.

“I just want to help, darling,” she says.

“I said no!” you yell.

“Go get some sleep, darling,” she says. 

“Thank you, Mom,” you say.

The woman leaves. You close the door after her. This woman seemed so sweet. She shouldn’t have been here. She probably hates you, too. You lock the door and check it three times. 

You go back to your room and lie down. You stare at the ceiling. You don’t have the energy to cry anymore. You still haven’t eaten. You reach your hand out to your phone and open the “UberEats” app. “Burgers, Pizzas, Salads…” You scroll and scroll and scroll. Not a thing you want to eat. You don’t even know what you want. 

Later you hear another knock. “Why does everyone need to bother me?” you think. You hope that it is the food delivery. You hear keys turning in the lock of the door. 

You open your eyes and lie still in your bed. You don’t care who it is. You don’t care what they will do to you. There are men approaching you.

You think that if you don’t move, they won’t see you. 

Miss, can we ask you some questions?” the big one asks.

And they needed to enter your apartment for this? 

“Miss, can you hear me?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you say.

“Can you answer some questions, Miss?” he repeats. 

“Questions?” you ask.

“When did you eat last?” 

 “I ordered food,” you answer. 

You feel as if you are being carried downstairs. You scream and scream, but no one seems to hear. 

“Leave me alone!” you yell. Nobody hears you, nobody cares.  

You turn and see in the mirror in the hall that your hair is dirty, your body is covered in bruises, and your face is so swollen, people must think that you drink non-stop. You see the reflection of yourself, two men carrying you to the door, and a dark figure, following you. You don’t say hello to me. How rude.