Cartoons in the Suicide Forest

by Leza Cantoral

  He drove right over and we picked up a few pregnancy tests at the drug store and went to his house. His parents were on a ski vacation all weekend. I peed on one stick. I peed on another and then another and the truth was a giant pink elephant with a big stupid plus sign on its head standing in the middle of the room. We sat on his parent’s bed looking at each other like sudden strangers. I could tell something had changed. The energy was all wrong. I felt like a whole bomb was going off inside my head over and over again, ringing in my ears, echoing the reverberations of my pounding heart.

  “Well, we have to get rid of it. I’ll take you and I’ll pay for it.”

  I was stunned. That simple. Just like that. Get rid of it. Like it was an ingrown toenail or a potentially malignant mole.

  “But, what if we had it?” I asked him as I reached for his hand that rested on the bed.

  He pulled his hand away and looked at me sadly.

  “You know I love you but we can’t do this. We can’t have any fucking kids.”

  I was picturing our baby and I already knew it was a boy. I just felt it. I pictured our little baby with those same green eyes that I adored.

  Then I pictured raising the baby alone at my mom’s house. I pictured dropping out of high school with only one semester to go. I pictured not going to college and staying stuck at some dead end job in this shit box town and I realized that I could not do this alone.

  That fairy tale ending was just not gonna happen for me. My gut dropped like a lead ball to the floor and I knew I had to get an abortion.

  I went home heartbroken and confused. About a week later he took me to get the abortion. We ate a huge breakfast right before. By this point I was getting pretty ravenous.

  We sat together awkwardly in the waiting room. Then I went into another room where he could not come. It was a very sterile and hopeless place. I marveled that they could just slice this burden off me like removing a bad tooth. A whole human life. I imagined my baby’s fate line. I pictured it floating above me, hovering like a milky ghostly river near the neon lit ceiling. I saw it and tried to apologize to this hypothetical person that was never going to get the chance to cry, to crawl, to eat ice cream, or to fuck things up like me.

  My baby boy. Forever pure and sinless. I was almost jealous. I wanted a do-over for life. I sat there feeling like the biggest idiot. And I could just walk away. When it was all over I could just walk away, just like he was just gonna walk away from me once this whole business was over with and I would be all alone again. No baby, no boyfriend, nothing.

  I walked in with two things and was leaving with zero—what a deal.

  They told me to lay down and spread my legs. They did not give me any painkillers. They said it was gonna be fast and that I did not need them. It hurt like a motherfucker. Like pliers twisting my cervix tighter and tighter and then sucking it all out. A nurse was holding my hand. I screamed and cried and grabbed onto her hand so hard it went numb.

  When I walked out of there I felt like a part of me had died. I think a part of me did. I rested for a couple days. I recovered pretty quickly and then it was like it had never happened.

  I saw him a couple more times but the baby scare had ruined everything. We were still really horny and would fuck but it meant different things to each of us now. I would always end up crying and he would feel like shit and so we finally called it quits.

  A couple months after that he disappeared forever. His parents said they thought he had gone into the forest. I guess that kinda started my obsession with the forest.

  Act IV

  The Suicide Forest

  The canopy of tree tops hangs thick over the forest. Patches of moonlight flicker like the light of an old projector in an empty movie theater.

  There is dead silence. No birds chirping. No frogs croaking in the ponds. There are caves and crags, muddy patches and thick tangles of brambles. The green of the trees is so bright it is practically glowing. The scents of mint, pine, and wet moss fill the air.

  Night is falling. I set up my tent in a clearing and sit on a rock to smoke a cigarette. I turn on my phone and scroll through my Tumblr feed.

  I see the same usual suspects posting crying selfies. I am trying to see if any of them are in the Suicide Forest tonight. It would be comforting to know I’m not alone.

  I debate whether or not to take a picture here. I’m losing light.

  Sad eyes, heavy lids, low angle.

  Black and white luna filter.

  #SuicideForest #Selfie

  Who knows? It might be the last image people see of me. At least they’ll know where to find the body.

  After I post it, I scroll again, hoping to find someone who is with me here tonight.

  I see one. She’s been around a while. She started cutting strange symbols into her arms and posting pictures along with cryptic poems about someone called, ‘The Queen in Yellow’ a few months ago.

  High angle. Wet Sailor Moon eyes bright blue. Snow blonde hair like a halo glowing around her head.

  #PercocetDreams #SuicideForest #FinalSelfie

  Damn. No fence-sitting for her.

  I keep scrolling. My picture already got 30 ‘likes’. That’s bananas.

  I shut off my phone in case I need the GPS to get out later.

  Maybe I won’t need it though.

  I brought both uppers and downers.

  I can sleep forever or stay up all night chain smoking.

  Choices, choices.

  I put the cigarette out on my arm. It singes the skin and leaves a black mark.

  “Ouch!” I cry out.

  What the fuck did I do that for?

  I rub my arm and suck the burn.

  Suddenly I hear a sobbing in the distance. I wonder if it is the girl from Tumblr.

  I scramble to my feet and start following the sound. I really wish I had brought a flashlight. I keep lighting the lighter and burning my fingers as I trip and stumble over rocks and through muddy puddles that suck my boots down like big black toothless mouths.

  I get to a clearing and see a blue glowing tent in between two birch trees. As I come closer I see the silhouette of a girl sitting up, chest shaking in full sob throes.

  “Hello? Are you Ok?”

  No answer.

  I walk up to the tent and tentatively unzip the opening.

  “Hello?” I ask again as I peep inside.

  The girl’s back is to me and she continues sobbing.

  I reach my hand out and rest it on her shoulder. She stops crying and remains frozen.

  “It’s Ok. We know each other on Tumblr.”

  “Tumblr is for cunts,” hisses the girl.

  It startles me and I quickly draw back my hand.

  “Sorry. Wrong tent.”

  “Oh no it’s not!” she screeches.

  Her head spins around to face me. Her skin is pale gray and faded like an old cartoon. One side of her hair turns black right before my eyes. One eye becomes a deep and cavernous black socket dripping back goo as the other eye bright-blue, looks at me. Her mouth twists into a crooked grin, one side pale, and the other side black and glossy.

  She reaches out her arms to me.

  “Come play with us!”

  I scream and run back in the direction I think I came from. I run so hard I feel like my heart is going to explode. My long loose black sweater keeps getting caught in the branches that seem to be hanging lower and lower until I am totally trapped.

  The branches wrap around my arms and lift me up off the ground. I kick and scream but they just wrap around harder, slithering up my arms like boa constrictors.

  I look down and I see the girl looking up at me cocking her head, first to one side and then the other.

  “Once you enter, you cannot leave. That’s the rule,” she says giggling, and splits into two girls with hair of equal lengths and features that identically mirror each other. One has pitch black hair down to her waist and huge dark saucer eyes. The other has white hair down to her wai
st and big doll blue eyes.

  “You’re being a very bad girl,” says the dark one, grabbing my cheeks and shaking my face from side to side.

  The white haired one flies up behind me and playfully lifts up my hair. Her lips graze the back of my neck and she whispers in my ear.

  “Take this knife.” She slips a knife into my hand. I twist my wrist around and cut the branch holding that hand. Then I cut my other arm free and I fall with a loud thud.

  I sit there, dazed, still holding the knife.

  “Ugh, you are such a pest!” screams the dark twin to the other, swooping down at me. She grabs my wrist tight with her cold gray hand and digs her long black nails into my skin.

  “Stop! Please stop!” I scream as I cut into her hand, but it doesn’t bleed. It just kind of slices right off like a piece of Jell-O.

  “Bitch!” she shrieks and flies away.

  The blonde flies down in front of me. She looks into my eyes with her big blue orbs and kisses me lightly on the lips.

  “See you sooon,” she whispers and follows her twin through the trees.

  I look down and see that there is a big nasty gash on my wrist.

  Shaking, I tear off a strip from the bottom of my shirt. It soaks through my shirt almost instantly.

  I rest my hand on my bent knee, trying to keep it elevated.

  I lay my head on the tree trunk. My eyelids feel like led.

  Just as I start to fall asleep, I hear footsteps.

  A little boy in a blue sailor suit is coming toward me through the trees.

  “Mommy?’

  My heart stops.

  Green eyes and his face.

  I choke back a sob.

  “Are you my mommy?”

  I cannot speak. I fling my arms open and pull him toward me. I crush his tiny body into my chest.

  I feel his face against my neck. His breath is warm. He rests his head as if he is sleepy and I keep holding him.

  “My baby, my baby, oh my baby,” I croon over and over, tears streaming from my eyes like they will never stop.

  His plump lips curl against my throat. I feel the sharpness of his tiny teeth piercing my skin like little needles.

  He sucks and I cannot let go because I’ve missed him so.

  And then he pulls away and he smiles like a cherub. Red lips and rosy cheeks.

  He wipes his bloody mouth with the edge of his baby blue sailor suit sleeve.

  “I love you mommy,” he says shyly with a voice like sleigh bells ringing.

  He turns and runs away.

  And then my heart breaks all over again.

  Act V

  Mother

  Now I want to die.

  The pain fills my chest as I think of my baby boy that never was.

  Seeing that creature was like seeing a ghost.

  It shreds me.

  I don’t care about my bleeding wrist. I don’t care about my parents missing me if I never come back. The life I have feels like an empty thing. My love for my ex-boyfriend seems like a Saturday morning cartoon that I used to watch a long time ago.

  My resolve to keep it together crumbles. The sobs come out raw, like a wounded creature screaming.

  I hate the pain. I hate the mindless torture of loving someone. I hate the meaninglessness of it all.

  I cradle my legs and let out deep, chest-wracking sobs.

  And then I notice I am not alone. The twins have returned and they brought company. A whole crowd of pale gray girls just like them. They circle around me like vultures, undressing me with their eyes.

  They start to dance around me. They move like they don’t have joints, like they’re made of rubber. As they dance a strange calliope song starts to play in the distance. It sounds like a scratched record. As it skips they skip along with it. It plays backwards and forwards, fast and slow.

  I cannot stop crying. The pain of everything that has hurt me hits me like a tidal wave. The sad drowns out everything else inside of me and the tears come flooding out. My tears start turning colors as they stream through my shaking hands. Red rage floods out, and the yellow madness that has been eating my brain burns my eyes like crushed lemons.

  By the time I am crying out the greens, they are telling me that I am already dead and I believe them, and when the blue tears come, I am ready.

  The white haired twin hands me the knife and I slit my own throat.

  The blue gushes out of my gaping wound. But instead of losing consciousness, my body begins to transform. I can feel my head getting bigger and my body getting smaller.

  I look down at my hands and arms. They are pale gray just like the girls that surround me. My waist shrinks down till I am a perfect hourglass. My hands shrink and the tips of my fingers bubble out. My legs and feet shrink down to the size of a child.

  The white haired twin hands me a jewel encrusted mirror.

  My reflection startles me.

  My eyes are huge black saucers with a slim rim of white at the edges. My lips have become a tiny black bee sting pout. My nose is barely a bump and my forehead is huge.

  I close one eye and see my massive Manga lashes flutter.

  I look down at the muddy watercolor I’m sitting in. All the tears I cried are staining my pale gray legs.

  The paint begins to roll around and gather up like drops of mercury that keep on joining into bigger and bigger multicolored balls.

  The girls gather the balls into a basket with holy reverence, like each ball is a precious relic.

  When they are done they bring me the basket.

  “You must bring your colors to Mother,” they say, setting it down in front of me.

  “Mother?” I ask.

  The word drips off my tongue like bitter honey and my mouth suddenly feels like it’s full of cotton balls.

  “She will feed you once you give her what’s in that basket.”

  “I, I don’t understand,” I stutter, staring at the balls.

  “She will fill you with new colors. Any colors you want. When our colors bleed and fade, she refreshes us. All we need to do is feed her fresh colors. That is the magic of this forest. Your new body will never die.”

  I still don’t understand but I can see my cartoon hands and feet and face.

  I am one of them now.

  I feel a deep thirst like I have never felt before. It is like my entire head is made of cotton. My lips are dry. I feel brittle and crinkly. My eyes ache and burn.

  So I get up and grab the basket.

  They turn and start walking towards a large hill and I follow close behind.

  The basket is very light and my arms are springy. They stretch and contract with each step I take.

  I look at the colored balls and I remember the feelings inside of them but I don’t feel anything anymore.

  We reach the foot of the hill and they all come to a halt. The dark twin takes out a big black flat circle from her pocket and slaps it on the side of the mountain. It becomes a tunnel and we walk right through it into the mountain.

  The tunnel starts out so narrow that we have to walk single file but it twists and widens as we go deeper. The walls are covered with animated and moving pictures of strange creatures with huge eyes and multicolored fur chasing and torturing each other in brutal and ridiculous ways. There are giant suns, moons, and flowers with laughing faces.

  Rainbows light up and flash by turns through the tunnel before it goes pitch black and fills up with stars like the most dazzling night sky, and then pulsing back into the colors again.

  Some of the girls watch the images, laughing and pointing, and saying things like, “Oh, that’s my favorite one!”

  “She always does that! Hahaha.”

  “Wow, that stupid rabbit, he will never learn.”

  We finally get to a door. It’s hexagonal and solid gold, embossed in a honeycomb pattern. The dark twin presses in one of the honeycombs and the door slides open.

  The chamber within is huge. The ceiling is high arched and covered in gorgeou
s paintings of exotic flowers, bees, hummingbirds, mushrooms, frogs, snails, and big-eyed furry creatures of all colors.

  Mother looks like a white chocolate figurine, wrapped in a honeycomb shell.

  We walk down a thick yellow carpet up to the throne where she sits.

  Her yellow hair is styled atop her head in an elegant beehive. Her breasts spill out of a bodice made out of a fitted honeycomb. The honey drips from her bodice and pools at her feet.

  She smiles beatifically at me. Her beauty is blinding. Her eyes are amber and full of emotion, like they are on the verge of hysteric laughter, deadly rage, and gut wrenching tears all at once.

  “Well, hello, beautiful. I have been waiting for you. You’re a feisty one. I like that. I’m sick of these crybabies,” she lazily waves her hand in the general direction of the other girls, who instantly pout and hang their heads in response.

  “Exactly,” she adds flatly. They scowl and try to regain their composure but they all look like they are about to cry.

  The girls step aside so that I can walk right up to her with my basket.

  “Are those for me? Oh, you shouldn’t have,” she claps her hands together, palms and fingers flat, like a doll.

  “Well, I . . . ”

  “Well what are you waiting for? Bring them over!”

  I come as close as I can without stepping in the pool of honey at her feet. She signals with her finger for me to raise the basket.

  Her hand hovers over each ball, unsure of which one to take first. She finally settles on a deep purple ball. She picks it up and licks it. She smiles and takes a big crunching bite out of it. It’s soft and powdery like a macaroon. She soon finishes the whole thing off, licks the colored powder off her lips and starts fishing for another one. This time she picks a minty green one with splotches of deep red.

  Pretty soon the whole basketful has disappeared down her throat. She licks her lips slowly, looking at me intently.

  “Delicious, darling. Delicious. Well worth the wait.”

  I would cry but I have no tears left.

  She then turns her attention to the other girls. She claps her hands three times and they stand at attention.