Lizzi Bizzi and the Red Witch

by Stefano Pastor

  «Are you going to make it, Chata?», the old man asked, because the black woman was one of the few people he’d exchange some words with every now and then.

  He’d tried to stop the blood with a towel, and Chata herself was pressing it. Monica noticed someone else in the apartment, someone who was spying them from a bedroom, but they immediately closed the door when she went back in.

  «What can I do?», she asked.

  «Let’s bring her away from here», suggested the old man. «Before that bastard comes back».

  Monica was uncertain. «Should we move her?».

  The old man was already trying to, but he was impeded by his infirmity. Chata, who towered over him even without heels, grasped his shoulder risking to make him fall.

  Monica had to intervene. Together, they dragged her to the apartment next door, which must have been the old man’s.

  Struggling, they laid her on the soda. Chata hadn’t said a word yet.

  «I’ll take care of her now», said the old man.

  Monica was embarrassed. «The ambulance will be here any minute now». Then she added: «I’ll just go put on something and I’ll be back soon. Do you think you’ll manage on your own?».

  The old man nodded.

  Monica went back home. Firstly, she tried to clean up her bedroom, as there was the risk that the police would have gone there. Then, she bandaged her wrist and she wore the most covering dress in her wardrobe, which covered the dressing completely.

  She spent almost half an hour doing this, and she went out in the corridor with the certainty that she’d taken too long. She wouldn’t have found anyone there anymore.

  Instead, the old man’s house was just as she’d left it.

  Chata’s wound was still bleeding and it had soaked the sofa’s cushions.

  Monica told herself she was an idiot. As she was losing time getting changed, the woman hadn’t managed to stop the wound in the right way, weak as she must have been, and that old man was unable to help her.

  She immediately got busy, so that the dress she’d just put on got dirty with blood, too. By pressing in the right way, the blood stopped coming out. Chata wasn’t very conscious anymore and she kept her eyes closed.

  «But where are they?», shouted Monica. «They said they’d come immediately!».

  «Did you tell them where it’d happened?».

  «Of course I’ve told them! I’m not a moron!».

  The old man sighed, he seemed very tired. «Then they’ll come». But he added: «Though they don’t really like going here».

  The ambulance arrived half hour later. That is to say, it’d taken an entire hour to travel for four kilometres.

  Monica was furious, as well as exhausted. Pressing on that wound was painful for her, too, considering her wrists’ condition. Indeed, the pain seemed to have expanded, not only to the wrists but to the arms, too; she felt pangs to the stomach, as well as to her kidneys. She even felt a hammer bashing her head.

  She insulted the nurses who were carrying the stretcher, and she insulted them even more because she found them too slow and off-putting.

  The old man said some nonsense, declaring that Chata had hurt herself on her own, while cooking.

  When Monica tried to intervene, the old man seized her wrist with his skeleton hands, making her scream for the pain, and, oblivious of the nurses, he whispered: «Do you really want to find yourself with your throat cut, too?».

  At that point, Monica preferred to remain silent.

  By the time they took off the towel, the wound had stopped bleeding, but it was a really bad cut, around ten centimetres long, which bared the flesh. They put her on a stretcher, without giving her any first aid, and they left.

  The old man run after them, and Monica, too, despite herself. Once they reached the street, the stretcher was carried on the ambulance.

  When Monica reached them, the old man was fighting with the nurses. She understood that they refused to get him on the ambulance, too.

  Monica didn’t reason. «I’m taking you», she said. «My car is parked right there».

  The old man gave up, mumbling, and he wasn’t even grateful. «Couldn’t you have said that earlier? We could have taken her to the hospital ourselves».

  It was a really absurd accusation, which Monica ascribed to the tension, so she preferred not to reply back.

  A few minutes later, in the car, while they were trying to reach the ambulance before them, the old man apologised.

  «I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. I’m Edoardo».

  «My name is Monica», she introduced herself. «You’ll see she’ll make it, don’t worry». She couldn’t keep quiet. «Those bastards! Do you think that’s the way to behave?».

  «The Emerald doesn’t have a good reputation».

  «And so?».

  Monica knew that really well, but she’d never cared about it. Quite the opposite, actually. They gave the apartments away, at the Emerald. Indeed, no one wanted them, even if they were so cheap. She was still sure she’d made an excellent deal, buying an apartment she could never have afforded at a fifth of its actual value. «Why?», she added.

  «You don’t know it yet? You’ll discover it, too, don’t worry».

  She didn’t like such enigmatic phrases. Monica changed topic. «Do you want him to get away with it?».

  The old man sighed. «Is this about Kito? What else could we do? Chata is too scared to accuse him and even I can’t do it. He’s a violent, vindictive man».

  «That doesn’t seem like a justification to me».

  «For what he’s done to her? The knife was Chata’s, he’s just defended himself. Or maybe not, maybe it’s her who defended herself when he attacked her. However it went, it is better not to meddle with certain things».

  Monica knew that, but she didn’t like it at all.

  Once they reached the hospital, they found Chata in an emergencies corridor, on the same stretcher she’d been taken away on. It seemed as if they’d forgotten about her.

  The old man had to block her, when Monica tried to make a scene.

  A nurse barely glanced at the wound and she decreed: «When her turn comes, she’ll get in, there are others graver than her».

  Monica couldn’t really see those grave patients, she thought that no one could be as grave as Chata. Heck, her throat had been almost slit! She saw a builder with an injured arm, a boy in tears who had swallowed an eraser, a couple of probably addicted idlers looking for a snort.

  Chata hadn’t revived yet. She maybe didn’t even realise where she was.

  An hour went by and the old man told her: «If you have to go to work, feel free to leave. I’ll stay here, I have nothing to do».

  Monica didn’t have a job anymore, and at the present moment she didn’t think that was very important. She found it absurd that for such a silliness she’d tried to kill herself the previous night. Luckily, she’d been clumsy with that, too.

  She shook her head and she pointed at the man’s hands. «Do they hurt much?».

  He sighed deeply. «Some nights, I can’t even fall asleep. Such a pain makes you want to die».

  Then he didn’t talk anymore.

  4

  Two hours went by.

  Monica went checking on Chata every ten minutes. The woman had revived. When Monica tried to explain the situation to her, she shook her head and she said her first words. «It doesn’t matter, I’ll wait».

  Monica was instead tired of waiting, that wasn’t a hospital, it was a slaughterhouse. She was about to make another scene, when a man wearing a doctor’s coat stuck out his head from a door.

  «Where’s the one from the Emerald?».

  A nurse quickly pointed at her.

  «Bring her in».

  Monica sighed with relief, seeing they were finally assisting her. «Will they question us?», she asked the old man.

  «No», he replied, without hesitation.

  She frowned. «How can you say that? Has it happened befo
re?».

  He nodded. «Too many times, even. They don’t want to hear about us anymore».

  Monica hadn’t understood everything really well, but she again refrained to ask more.

  The door Chata had appeared from opened after only five minutes, and the woman walked out, on her feet. The doctor was supporting her.

  Monica was incredulous. Chata had a bandage around her neck and nothing more. She spoke with a plaintive voice. «Edoardo, bring me back home».

  Monica couldn’t restrain herself again. «Are you letting her go back home?».

  The doctor must have been in his fifties, he had a grey moustache and hair. In another moment, Monica would have found him attractive. The voice was kind and warm, too. «She’s asked for it».

  That didn’t seem like a justification to her. «She’s lost a lot of blood!».

  The doctor’s reply was even more ambiguous. «I’ve given her a medicine to fight the pain. The blood will form again soon. It’s nothing serious».

  Before Monica exploded, Chata spoke again with her plaintive voice. «Why did you bring me here, Edoardo? You know it’s useless».

  The old man seemed embarrassed. «You were losing so much blood, I feared I wouldn’t be able to stop it».

  Monica was impressed by the weird speech, and she turned to the doctor. «Did you know her already?».

  The doctor smiled, making Monica’s heart beat faster. «Chata? Oh yeah, she’s an old acquaintance of ours».

  Chata’s brashness didn’t last long, in fact she got dizzy and she almost fell on the ground. The old man managed to make her sit down.

  «I’ve told you it was too early», said the doctor. «Stay there for a bit, you’ll go when you feel better. You could have at least spent one night in the hospital».

  The woman stopped him with a gesture.

  When the doctor turned to leave, Monica ran after him. «Wait, what does it mean?».

  That smile, again. «What?».

  Neither Monica knew what she was asking. But everything seemed wrong. The nurses’ attitude, even his.

  «Monica, leave it», said the old man.

  She didn’t intend to. «Why are you behaving this way?».

  The doctor looked at her in a weird way. «Do you live at the Emerald, too?».

  Monica didn’t understand this change of topic. «Yes, I’ve moved there recently, but –».

  The doctor pointed his office. «Would you like to go and talk there? I have five free minutes».

  That wasn’t true, a lot of patients were waiting. Monica glanced at the old man, who was talking to Chata. There wasn’t a risk for them to leave without her, as the only car there was hers. Besides, Chata needed to rest a little.

  «With pleasure», she replied.

  She followed him in the study, and the doctor closed the door. «Martini», he introduced himself, saying only his surname.

  «I understand you’re scared», he told her. «But I assure you there is really nothing to fear».

  «What do you mean?», asked Monica.

  The man rapped out his verdict, in complete calmness. «The tenants of the Emerald don’t die». Seeing she was slack-jawed, he continued: «I haven’t seen even one of them die in twenty-five years of work».

  This seemed bullshit to Monica. «But –».

  «You don’t believe me? I didn’t want to believe it, either, at the start. But then I was forced to accept it. They don’t die, they can’t. I’ve had all sorts of people, during all these years. Riddled by bullets, one had even shot himself in the head. A woman had tried to hang herself, she’d been hanging for hours before they found her. And the tumours! Tumours so extended that it seems impossible they are still alive».

  Despite being incredulous, a strange sensation was making its way through Monica’s heart. She instinctively stroked her wrists. «Do you mean they heal? Miraculous healings?».

  The doctor shook his head. «There’s nothing miraculous in this. No, they don’t heal. They simply don’t die. Whether she’d have come here or not, it would have made no difference for Chata. That woman cannot die».

  He closed his eyes. «Four years ago, she was almost disembowelled by a maniac, yet she survived. Do you think that was of any use to her? She started working again the next day. She knows she can’t die, too».

  «You can’t believe –».

  «I don’t believe in it, in fact. But the facts are clear. Out of the 737 tenants that have lived in the Emerald in the last thirty-five years, not even one has died yet. And mind you, leaving that place is useless, too, anyone who has lived in those apartments will never be able to die».

  The wounds on the wrists felt like burning blades, Monica felt a strong desire to scratch them. «If this were true –».

  The doctor made a strange smile. «If this were true, what?».

  «If this were true, people would come in swarms to live there».

  The man frowned. «Do you really think that? Are you happy living there?».

  «What are you saying?».

  «I’m saying that you can’t die at the Emerald, but this isn’t at all a merit. Living at the Emerald won’t prevent you from getting old, it won’t heal any illness, it doesn’t even close wounds. Most importantly, it doesn’t protect from pain. And you reach the point when the pain is so strong that no medicine can alleviate it. Go ask your friend, if he’s happy to live at the Emerald».

  «It’s absurd», gasped Monica.

  «That’s right, absurd. There’s no logical reason for it to happen. It’s just a statistical fact. Twenty years ago, the newspapers revelled in this strange fact, they published a lot of articles, then they got bored of it, too. An oddity, not supported by any scientific proof. An urban myth, that’s all. Everyone preferred forgetting that the Emerald existed, and it kept claiming more victims. As long as the tenants fled from there, some unwary person would replace them. Didn’t you know anything about this story?».

  Monica shook her head. «So I cannot die?».

  «As far as I know, you can’t. If you died, you’d be the first one in thirty-five years. Since you’re still young, you’ll probably think that’s a good thing, but I can assure you that it isn’t so for Chata. I’m sorry to say it, but one day you’ll think it a curse, too, just like everyone else».

  «I… I still don’t know if I can believe it».

  Why had she vomited all the pills she’d swallowed? A coincidence? Was it a coincidence, too, that she hadn’t bled to death, just like Chata?

  «Don’t try making experiments, though», the doctor continued. «There are those who did it, and regretted it. Every cut you make will be painful; the deeper you’ll do it, the more painful it will be, and the longer it will take to close. There won’t be miraculous healings, there’s never been. There is only the impossibility to die. And after all, I see it as an illness, maybe the most serious that man has ever known».

  «Why?».

  «Why is the Emerald like this? Why does it happen only there? Nobody knows. Twenty years ago, they did all sorts of enquiries: they checked the soil, they analysed the air. They even did a research on the materials it’s been built with. Useless to say, they didn’t find out anything. Some tenants even turned up as volunteers for a series of tests». He sighed. «Now people would like to forget, but how can we not see what surrounds us?».

  Then he asked, sadly: «They should demolish that place, instead of continuing to sell apartments. But it is known that for the almighty pound one can get over anything.»

  «I’m not sure I believe you», Monica whispered again.

  But there was a doubt. It wasn’t a visionary taleteller to make these mad claims, it was a doctor from the emergencies, and he didn’t seem a simple-minded type.

  The doctor dismissed her. «I’m sorry if I’ve told you certain things, but I thought it my duty to inform you. It wasn’t fair that no one had done it, until now».

  Monica shook his hand, and hers was shaking a bit.

  When she
went out of the study, she found Edoardo and Chata ready to leave. The woman seemed able to walk again.

  5

  The return journey was done in the utmost silence.

  Even if her travelling companions guessed what the doctor had told her, they didn’t dare broaching the subject. Monica couldn’t do it, either, because it seemed too absurd to her to even talk about it.

  However, when they came in sight of the Emerald Village, she felt a shiver along her back.

  The Emerald housing complex was made of five palaces, in a diamond-like formation, with an inner courtyard. The two biggest palaces, which formed a ‘V’, were formed of around sixty apartments each, and she lived in one of those. The other three palaces, which were arranged as a crown, were smaller, around half the size. In total, the complex must have had around two hundred apartments, but as far as she knew, at least three quarters of them were uninhabited.

  Maybe managing to buy one hadn’t been a lucky break.

  Monica didn’t have a garage, but she wouldn’t have needed one anyway. There were a lot of free places around the Emerald and you could always find somewhere to park. That day she opted to go in the inner courtyard, so that she could stop the car in front of the gate, making it easier for Chata to go back home.

  But as soon as she went off the car, the woman shook her head.

  «No, I don’t feel like I can do it».

  It was understandable that the woman didn’t want to go back home, after what had happened to her.

  «Shall we take a walk?», the old man suggested.

  They went off together, almost supporting each other, towards the inner park. Monica closed the car, then she followed them, after a moment of uncertainty.

  She’d never been there, even if it was common property of all the tenants. Indeed, to tell the truth, she’d never seen anyone sitting on those benches.

  There was a small fountain in the middle, with a statue, too, but as far as she could remember, it had always been without water. A gravel path lead to the fountain, bordered by benches, all shaky and with the plaster peeled off. There were trees and bushes around, and that was the only green you could find at the Emerald. It was really a mystery why they’d called it like that.