Chapter 1 - The unexplainable truth of being normal

My head was pounding, and I clutched the hot cup. The steaming smell of coffee came into my nose, and I breathed it in deeply. The one ibuprofen hadn't helped, and I felt like a bulldozer had run over me.

"You really had to go partying with Ariana. You probably shouldn't have looked so deeply into the glass," my best friend Valeria said bitingly as she washed her dishes.

Outside, the morning sun was breaking through the leaves of the chestnut tree that bordered the spacious terrace in front of Valeria's parents' house and provided wonderful shade in summer. The patio door was slightly open, letting in a warm and pleasant breeze that brushed around my bare legs like a cat. The shorts were far too tight for my still alcohol-strained body, which only wanted to sit on the sofa in sweatpants, spoon buried deep in chocolate pudding and with a trash TV series running on the TV.

"But it was cocktail night, of course it didn't stop at one," I moaned and took a big sip.

I knew that Valeria was just upset that we hadn't taken her with us. But she always had to work when it was important. I was even more grateful to her that I was still allowed to sleep with her tonight.

"Besides," I continued, "Reese texted me again yesterday and I just needed a girls' night out with alcohol."

Valeria snorted but didn't answer. Reese had been my ex-boyfriend for exactly two weeks, five days, and eight hours. How did I know that so well? Because he said to me at a good friend's birthday party at almost exactly two o'clock in the morning after too many cups of gin and tonic:

I think it's fine the way it is. Let's keep it that way.

And then I broke it off.

Our relationship lasted a year, three months, and four days. I could no longer count the hours.

I sat down on the sofa and closed my eyes.

"Why do you have to have a hangover after drinking? It takes all the fun out of it."

A warm scent of vanilla crescents wafted from the kitchen island to me.

"Have I missed something or is it Christmas already?"

Valeria came over to me and sat down in an armchair with a coffee.

"You know that all these European customs contradict my desire for freedom. It's my way of silently protesting."

I laughed and threw a pillow at her. She just managed to dodge it without spilling her coffee, which was a feat in itself.

"Hey," she shouted, "you're just as German as I am," I laughed.

She looked at me with mock indignation.

"Mexican blood runs in my veins, you know that for a fact."

I just rolled my eyes. Valeria's parents had emigrated to Germany before she was born and had made a life for themselves here as the owners of an electrical store, to which they could nowadays count five other stores. And despite the fact that their daughter had grown up in Germany, she still grew up with Mexican food, traditions and regular visits from her wealthy abuelos from the Mexican coastal region of La Paz. I used to be envious of her tanned complexion, big almond-shaped brown eyes, and wild dark curls. She had also inherited her mother's curves, which flattered her face and curls even more. But now, a few years later, I was content with myself.

My distant paternal grandfather had come to Germany from Scotland sometime around 1890 and had brought with him not only his kilt, which my father kept as a family heirloom, but also his beautiful reddish-blond hair and the many freckles I had inherited. However, the light blue eyes went back to my mother. The only downside was that I got sunburnt very quickly and hardly ever developed a tanned complexion.

Valeria stroked her hair and looked at me thoughtfully.

"University starts again in three days and then you'll be seeing Reese regularly. Are you okay with that?"

I shrugged my shoulders and drained my coffee in one go.

"It's the only way. I broke up with him, so I have to accept the consequences."

"Yes, but you still have feelings, don't you?"

I snorted and went into the kitchen. I would have liked to avoid the subject, but Valeria saw through me every time. The vanilla crescents were cooling on the baking tray in the kitchen, and I popped one in my mouth. It was hot and burned my tongue, but the delicious sweetness spread down the inside of my cheeks, and I rolled my eyes in delight.

"Wow, they're hot!"

Valeria gave me a dirty look.

"You're just distracting." I groaned.

"At least let me enjoy your cookies. He cheated on me, what other feelings should I have?"

Valeria clicked her tongue, expressing her scepticism.

"You don't believe that yourself, do you? Feelings don't just disappear like that. Besides, technically he didn't really. You gave him permission, after all."

I rolled my eyes.

"Come on, Val, you're supposed to be on my side. That's the unspoken code of friends in a breakup."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

I ate another vanilla crescent. Wonderful. Simply wonderful.

Valeria was still looking at me doubtfully.

"Oh, it doesn't matter. It's my business anyways," I hissed and walked to the kitchen, put my cup down and went to the front door.

I put my shoes on, grabbed my bag and gave Valeria a half-hearted wave.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

The moment I went out into the heat and away from the house, I instantly felt sorry that I had reacted like that towards Valeria. Of course, she was right, and I was aware of that, but I didn't want to hear it. I squinted my eyes and blinked against the light. The August sun really had it going on.

I grabbed my bag and made my way home. Three bus stops later - a route I could have walked, but I was still hungover, and the sun was doing the rest - I got off, walked along a short path paved with large stones and knocked on the door. A small, sweet, and mischievously smiling woman opened it.

"Well, you had a bit of a drink last night, didn't you?"

She poked me in the side, and I just grunted and pushed past her into the hallway. It was pleasantly dark and cool inside, as my mother always closed the blinds in all the rooms without exception in summer to keep the heat out.

"I hope you had a nice evening too," I mumbled to distract myself and went into the kitchen.

There I opened the cupboard, took out the jar of Nutella – I would always remember was there, - grabbed a spoon from the dishwasher and popped a big load into my mouth. My mother grinned.

That was the great thing, she didn't judge you, but always made fun of you.

"It was great, Ravi was here, and we had a nice movie night," her eyes took on a slightly glazed, dreamy expression and I raised my eyebrows.

"Ravi? You've only known him

for two weeks, haven't you? Movie night is already next level."

The first spoonful was immediately followed by the next.

"No, three," she corrected me slightly reprovingly.

"Oh, darling, you know how I am. When I like a man, I let him know. And he's great, you'd like him too. I'll introduce you two soon."

She ran her hand over my hair and then walked towards the patio door.

"I'm going to pick some strawberries before there aren't any left. Feel free to help me," she laughed, knowing how unlikely that was, not just at that moment, but always.

Some people were born to garden, others were not. I belonged to the second group.

While I was still sucking on my spoon, I looked after her.

Ravi. An interesting name. I didn't know him yet, but apparently, I would soon.

As with all my mother's previous short-term relationships, I had withdrawn at the beginning and avoided contact as much as possible. Since my parents had separated a few years ago, I had tried to build up an emotional bond with new partners only when it was clear that it was worthwhile. In the beginning, my mother had had a few too many partners for my liking and at some point, I gave up trying to get to know them.

It wasn't the same with my father, he had met Maike shortly after the separation and hadn't looked at another woman since. I liked Maike, although I always had the subliminal feeling that she compared herself to my mother when she saw me. It was like a slight underlying insecurity, which - in my opinion - wasn't understandable at all. Maike herself was a very beautiful and warm woman. But that didn't seem to convince her.

Although the subject of the separation might sound dramatic to others, my parents had parted on good terms. They had grown apart, and that was okay. They had married and had a daughter at a young age, and at some point, realized that things weren't quite right. But they got on well together. It would have been an exaggeration to call them friends, but they were still good acquaintances.

I sighed and took another spoonful with so much Nutella that it almost fell off the spoon so that I could just about catch it with my tongue.

I scrolled through my phone and walked up the stairs to my room. Every single step of my small but cozy family home was so familiar to me that I didn't even have to look anymore.

So, how's your head? You really let it rip yesterday (smiley face), I read the message from Ariana.

I quickly typed a reply and then opened Netflix. I tapped on the first series that came up, which turned out to be a Swedish sci-fi thriller, leaned my phone against a pillow so I could watch comfortably lying down and relaxed.

I only just managed to get up again, brush my teeth and pack my swimming gear for the next day before I fell back into bed completely exhausted and my eyes, which were tons heavy, closed.

**I slipped away and was weightless.

My body had no substance and it - or I - seemed to be flying through something, which wasn't air. There was no feeling, no resistance, no physical perception that could have told me what temperature, what state was around me.

What I was.

I glided on for a while, further and further.

At some point, sounds seemed to reach my ears. Birds? Or the sound of waves? Although the sounds were so different, I couldn't quite interpret them.

Then the nothingness in front of me slid apart and suddenly I could see. I saw everything.

It was so incredibly beautiful. Below me was a lake, or a sea, that was so azure blue that it almost stung and teared my eyes. But I didn't squint. I wanted to see it.

Now I seemed to be flying. I flew slowly, as if I were a bird, but I was not a real being. No real being that I could have named.

Below me was a long road on which not a single car drove. It was lined with mountains, so high that their peaks were already kissing the snow-white clouds. It was so beautiful.

The blue of the water met the light grey of the road, contrasting with the green of the trees that covered the mountains, a mixture of firs, foliage, and conifers.

I didn't move, I didn't breathe. I just flew on, just as I was. I simply soaked up the scenery.

I didn't know how long I flew like that; it was as if there was no time or space or anything that could be measured by human methods. I enjoyed it and felt as if nothing could disturb or even ruin the moment.

But then I heard a loud bang that filled everything around me, and I fell. I fell and fell, further and further, towards the hard ground.

But no - it was as if I wasn't moving downwards at all.

I was falling, but the ground wasn't getting any closer.

Instead, the scenery around me began to tear apart, literally. The colours were ripping apart, the sky was torn apart as if it were a sheet of blue paper with white cotton balls on it.

I didn't even try to hold on to anything or do anything. I knew inside me that there was no point. Something in my gut, or rather in my lower stomach, knew that I didn't need to fight, or couldn't fight.

I relaxed and was only startled once more when a distant but loud scream reached my ears. They seemed to be shouting something, but I couldn't quite make out what the person’s, or something’s lips were forming. The words, and eventually the voice, were swallowed up by the fog around me.

I closed my eyes, there was no point in trying to look at anything now, as almost all the colours had already been swallowed up by a deep black.

I squeezed my eyes even further shut - if I had any, because I still felt as if I wasn't a real being, not a creature - and fell further and further.**

I only realized I was crying when I woke up and my cheeks were hot and wet. I rubbed the hem of my T-shirt, which was already soaked with sweat, over my eyes and took a deep breath.

I could remember everything perfectly, but I didn't know why I was crying. I couldn't pinpoint the sadness I was feeling at that moment. It was as if the feeling was enveloping me, but as if it had come from the darkness of my room.

Rationally, the dream hadn't been sad, I hadn't seen anything bad. Maybe it had been that voice, that loud scream. It was as if there was so much pain, sadness and maybe even anger in that voice that it had burrowed under my skin.

Although it was humid in my room, I got goose bumps. I tossed my hair, got up and went into the bathroom. I took a cold shower, let the water, which felt like beads of ice, run over my bare skin, and closed my eyes again.

I saw the scenery in the inside of my eyelids. I didn't shake it away.

In the end, I didn't know how long I lay in the tub like that, but it felt surprisingly good, and my confusion and inexplicable sadness faded with every drop that ran down my head, my face, over my shoulders and stomach