CHAPTER 1 (excerpt)

One minute, one destiny

“Nothing is more certain than death,

nothing is less certain than its hour.”

Ambroise Paré

***

Now, in this harsh reality, that of my fifteen years, all these thoughts and analyses still remained muddled in my head. It was time for me to let go of Ian White for good, to put my brain in neutral, to leave the future life of my twenty-eight years and truly focus on myself, in this present moment, in the world of my fifteen years.

These were the same two hours spent daydreaming, hoping to escape into another world, another universe, another dimension, a deep sleep, but in vain. Ultimately, it was two damned hours of projecting into my twenty-eight-year-old future, which, like a horror movie, would, in the harsh reality of my fifteen years, turn into my worst nightmare.

***

Placed on the small natural wood dresser in my bedroom, the four bright red digits of the clock that my older brother had given me for my tenth birthday already indicated 12:47 that Saturday.

I lay innocently on my bed, hoping to sleep for the rest of the night. As I pondered the emotional blockages Ian White felt towards me, I was far from suspecting that at that very moment, a vile being had just burst into my home.

This same vile being entered through the kitchen window, which I had forgotten to close to let the cool evening air into the large, multi-story country-style house that had been steeped all day in the heavy summer humidity.

At that moment, I, little Isabelle, the future heartbroken lover, had just heard dull footsteps echoing on the wooden floor from the stairs of the charming country house where I lived with my mother and brother. Moreover, I had just hallucinated the whisper of a masculine voice calling my name near the vast hallway leading to my bedroom, I thought.

- Isabelle…

However, the young girl I was had just realized at that very moment that what I surely believed to be only ominous auditory perceptions, were not. I was truly troubled by the unsettling waves that my sharp hearing had once again intercepted at that second.

- Isabelle…

When I had opened my eyes to collect myself, I saw the shadow of an unsettling figure moving at the other end of the dark corridor. This shadow advanced subtly in my direction, holding in its hand a sparkling object that seemed offensive to me.

- Isabelle…

Apparently, being that magnificent dreamer with a pure and inspiring soul, I was no longer alone in this charming family home, in the absence of my older brother and my mother. The youngest that I was gently got out of bed, without making a sound.

I remained stoic, biting my lower lip, ready to face my destiny, despite the fear I felt throughout my trembling limbs. I had cold sweats. My poor little heart was pounding. My legs trembled, knocking against each other, and sweat dripped down my face. I felt utterly defeated when a dazzling white light suddenly illuminated before my eyes.

Since I was not prepared to defend myself perfectly, the beautiful brunette with the long, sparkling mane, woven like a horse's, that I was, had felt a terrible discomfort resurface deep within me. I had this strange sensation that made me nauseous.

At least, my throat, which tightened like a vise at the sight of this intruder, prevented me from vomiting my guts out. Annoyingly, my throat, which tightened like a vise at the sight of this intruder, prevented me from alerting neighbors miles around and signaling my distress with terrible screams. Worse still, my throat, which tightened like a vise at the sight of this intruder, literally obstructed my vocal cords. My throat, which tightened like a vise, exerted such pressure that no one could explain, leaving me speechless, completely mute. Not a sound, not a noise was heard. There was only this vigorous exchange of glances that drowned in the night, leaving me with fear.

In the artificial light of the evening, I scrutinized this vile character without ever blinking. This same shameless individual whom I had encountered a few times before. My fists were clenched in front of me, ready to attack or at least protect myself. However, in less than a minute, everything happened at lightning speed.

The suspect, dressed in a black outfit, from his beanie to his gloves, and from his jacket to his dirty pumps, stood straight in front of me. Despite the tinted glasses that made him look like a Hollywood star, the teenager that I was could still perceive, through the lenses of this corrupted actor, that the performer was staring at me with a menacing look. He looked like a hungry wolf about to pounce and grab its prey at any moment.

I couldn't run away because I was trapped between him and the three walls of my bedroom. Walls covered with quotes, proverbs, and song lyrics that inspired me from many authentic authors, from all eras, generations, and cultures. I was haunted by fear. I could do nothing but anticipate all the atrocious scenarios that were definitively etched in my mind at that second. Unfortunately, what was bound to happen, happened.

Before I even had the chance to beg for his mercy, to implore him to spare my life, the shooter pulled the trigger. I couldn't believe my eyes! This corpulent brute had opened fire on me without the slightest remorse. The decibels produced by the trigger pull almost deafened my eardrums. It felt as if the sound of the detonation produced the effect of a million gongs being struck simultaneously.

I felt an intense heat spreading across my chest. This intense heat was not like the tingling sensation one feels on the skin, comparable to a scraped knee. No, no! It was a third-degree burning sensation that invaded all the sensitive areas of my body, and even the least sensitive ones.

I hadn't yet become aware of the strange dizzying sensation my head was experiencing, as I had never before had a fear of heights. I was rather a fan of roller coasters in amusement parks and loved extreme sensations in my daily life. But I didn't necessarily like these strong emotions that might resemble a heart attack. They were anything but pleasant.

I felt my rib cage suddenly tighten around my lungs. Cold sweat dripped down my face. I was sweating under my arms and also on the soles of my feet. I even felt painful discomfort in my jaw, neck, shoulders, lower back, arms, and legs. I was nauseous, breathless, and totally dizzy.

Especially since I realized at that moment, that the bright red essence of my body instantly colored the white blouse of the small summer pajamas I was wearing. A feeling of extreme fatigue suddenly invaded my being.

The rifle bullet had savagely pierced my body, hitting my heart the very second, and the little slaughtered lamb immediately collapsed to the ground, while the mad hunter had just fled. I was that naive little creature who let out unpleasant moans and never had time to understand or assimilate the gravity of this act.

In this bitterness, the sublime angel that I was no longer exercised any control over this organism, which resembled that of a corpse bathing in a pool of blood. Suddenly, my inert body on the ground began to shiver like a paradox.

I was in so much pain. And yet, I was still unable to express my pain, to cry out in anger, to scream to release my Rage!

Never had I faced such violence. It was a massacre that made me feel like I was plummeting into the heart of black darkness. The nonchalance with which the projectile penetrated my chest resembled a slow-motion action movie sequence on the big screen. I felt all the friction caused by the bullet. Truly all the friction. Friction from the tips of my hair to the ends of my nails, so excruciating and unbearable was this pain.

That said, this physical suffering had absolutely nothing to do with a finger-squeak that Madame Champagnat deliberately made on the green chalkboard to snap me out of my daydreaming in French class. OHHHHH NOOOO! This physical suffering was a thousand times more intolerable, a million times more painful, a billion times more agonizing, and a trillion times darker. I felt as if my head and body were in the heart of a cosmic black hole, so much so that I didn't understand the uncomfortable sensations inhabiting my soul.

Suddenly, all my muscles became so cold and my bones were so numb that I felt like I was experiencing the primary symptoms of hypothermia for the first time in my life. It felt like thousands of knife blades were tearing through my body. I had difficulty breathing. I had difficulty clarifying my thoughts. All the emotions I was experiencing were similar to suffering and fear.

And strangely, this physical pain was not as agonizing as the disarray I calmly embraced in the face of the emotional rejection that Ian White, my childhood love, had just inflicted upon me in the future of my twenty-eight years. Despite this physical suffering, the emotional spirit of my fifteen years of life became increasingly peaceful.

In despair, I had painful thoughts of unconditional love for my mother, a woman full of humility. For my brother, a loyal friend. For my family, generous people towards others. For my friends, with whom I had experienced and shared my first life lessons. For the father who had never taken me under his wing and for whom I nevertheless showed indulgence towards the Muslim beliefs he advocated. I had a painful thought of unconditional love for Ian White, the one I esteemed and loved from the bottom of my heart.

Finally, I sent all my feelings of hope to all the exemplary people who had crossed my path. All those people who had brought me kindness, comfort, and happiness. All those people who had made me a charitable soul who had managed to illuminate the heart of the most derelict of all old men, to the noblest of queens. And to inspire the most hyperactive of all children, to the most neurotic of arrogant idiots I had met throughout this fabulous journey of life.

In despair, I also had a glimmer of gratitude towards heaven for having lent me life during the fifteen years I would have spent on this abundant and rich land. The only fortune I will now bequeath as a legacy to my family, to future generations, to all those who survive me, and to the rest of humanity, will be my dignity and my Self-Love.

If only the sole hope of my life had been to be happy and enjoy my youth before leaving this unchained universe, my passage on earth would have run its course and flashed before my eyes at the speed of a shooting star.

Contrary to my life expectancy, these were two hours of daydreaming, projecting myself thirteen years into my twenty-eight-year-old future, hoping to escape into another world, another universe, another dimension, a deep sleep. Two hours that ultimately transformed into my worst nightmare. In hope, I still found the strength and especially the courage to let the most sincere escape:

- “Gratias!”[1]

I slowly closed my eyes in this cruel world one last time, hoping to reopen them in the heavens. In mistrust, I abandoned Rage. In trust, I welcomed Passion. In complete self-control, I brought up all The Puzzle Pieces. And in all serenity, my soul was at peace, in total fullness.

- “Ora pro nobis!”[2]

Sadly, on this seventh night of July, at 12:48 precisely, an unbearable minute had passed between the relativity of time when I wisely daydreamed in my bed, to the future life of my twenty-eight years. An unbearable minute had passed between the moment I thought I hallucinated the murmur of a masculine voice whispering my name, Isabelle, near my bedroom. A strange masculine voice that was present in my home, without any invitation, to finally, forever nail me in my eternal adolescence of fifteen years.

An unbearable minute had passed between the instant my heart was struck by a bullet, completely emptied of its vital substance. And an unbearable minute had passed between the second when the soul of Isabelle Sanschagrin, whom those around me described as a Beautiful Precious Adored Pearl, had drawn her last breath. This oxygenated essence that the abominable ignorant beast still underestimates today in an attempt to deceive its karma…

[1] Thank you!

[2] Pray for us!

(Read the full version of Chapter 1)

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