I would have never been able to tell that
this was a room of a girl. There were paintings on the walls. Not the framed
kind, but the actually painted on the wall kind. They were done with strokes so
strong that they were full of edges and angles. Nothing feminine in them. Even
the colors were cold, blacks and blues and grays and a little bit of red here
and there. I wouldn’t wanna sleep here, that’s for sure. I would have
nightmares. Or maybe these were exactly that; nightmares come to life. It certainly
seemed like that.
The rotting leftover food on the table and
the dust and dirt everywhere else didn’t really improve the impression. The
only reason mice weren’t feasting on the shit left on the floor was that they
wouldn’t be able to stand the smell. It’s a miracle there was no vomit
anywhere. At least anywhere visible. I couldn’t say anything about the
invisible places, and the smell of it wouldn’t make that much of a difference.
The piles of clothes on the floor must have
been parts of some kind of systematic selection system. A pile for the “eww,
no!” another for the “ehh, maybe, if there is nothing else left” and there should
have been one for the “well… okay” ones too. The clothes didn’t help with the
monochrome feeling of the room. The same colors dominated the piles as the
walls. Nope, nothing girly like some frilly pink underwear there either.
As the setting sun shined through the
window, the light fell exactly on her like a bright spotlight in the princess
stories. But there was not a single princess here. There she was on a naked
bed. No sheets or blankets for her, just a small pillow that absorbed the spit
dripping from the corner of her mouth. She was lying on her stomach, her legs
in a strange position, as if she was trying to climb a rock, and she tried to
hug the bed with her arms. The shine of her wasn’t because of hair products but
because of the lack of hygiene. The fingers of one of her hands were curled
around a big paintbrush and her skin spotted with paint everywhere it wasn’t
covered by clothes – even her sole.
After a sigh full of despair, I left and
came back with a blanket that I laid on her sleeping form. Then I started
cleaning. Maybe I would have to buy a new bucket of white paint soon.
