Who pushed me down the stairs?

For three years, the man in the next room had been spying on me through a hole in the wall. It was not until I fell from the building, he had the guts to reach out and hold my hand. And, that was the first and the last time we spoke.

——

My body hung lifeless on the billboard and my face was still covered with the same makeup that I had applied carefully for three hours yesterday on the morning of the second day of the New Year. 

However, when the people in the neighborhood saw me, they did not say anything about the beauty of my face, instead, they were discussing the bad luck this incident would bring them.

Mariah Carey's Auld Lang Syne that were blaring loudly from the market early in the morning. The song made the festive atmosphere more pronounced like everywhere else in the world, except for this street. Ironically, the billboard where I was hanging was also featuring Mariah Carey.

When the police rolled my body over, they saw the gruesome scar on my neck. It was bright red and vile.

Sigh! I should have applied more powder there.

There was a man standing at the corner of the building above the billboard. He was looking at my lifeless body for a long time before turning back and walking slowly to his rented room with darkened eyes and a troubled expression.

"Did her boss dump her?" asked the vegetable seller granny loudly.

"What? Dumped her? She is a prostitute!" said a smoker with an even louder voice.

"I heard she charged forty-five dollars a night. It is way more expensive than the ones who were standing at Bazley Street."

What? Forty-five dollars! Get real! I charged ninety dollars.

It was almost empty at the police station. So, except for the hum of the electric fan, it was so quiet.

I did not have any idea where they took my body.

A man with a face full of fat was sitting on the desk and scribbling on a piece of paper with a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

"Captain Campbells, did you close this case just like that?" 

"Well, isn't it just a suicide case?” He answered with an impatient tone.

I hated the police the most, even when I was a child. They were not trustworthy.

When I was a child, they kicked my mother's vegetable basket, claiming she could not sell them there. When I grew up, I saw them break my sister's leg because of the same reason. However, they were the ones who took away all my mother's vegetables and they were also the ones who broke into my sister's room and bullied her.

In the stifling police station, he kept flipping through my files with his saliva-wetted thumb.

"Do you know this whore?" he asked.

"No."

"It's a shame though. She was only twenty-three years old."

"Don't we have to wait for the forensic report?"

"Are you fucking stupid? It's obvious she jumped from the building. Do you know how many people die on Creak Street every day? Do I have to investigate every single one of them?"

As he listened to his captain's scolding, the young officer lowered his head. He did not dare to refute his superior. 

"Case closed! I don't want to hear anything about it again."

The fat officer stubbed out his cigarette and left the young man alone in the police station.

Before he went home, he headed to the market to buy pork and vegetables. He planned to make meatballs and then eat them with his son.

He was so funny!

"Zara Weston."

I heard someone call out my real name. It was a woman who was carrying a bag on her back and floral cloth around her head.

She tiptoed when she entered my old rented room and then started rummaging around.

For the last five years, I had been sending her money continuously but it was never enough. She always complained I gave her too little.

She kept searching every corner of the room under the dim light, trying to find my valuables. However, all she could see was a pair of pearl earrings next to the broken frame.

The pearl earrings were a token of love from Mac London. He said I was more beautiful than Jennifer Lopez when I wore them.

However, he was marrying his new bride at the moment and paid all the expenses with my money.

Cockroaches crawled from the pipes next to me and the damp air was making the room feel suffocating.

I knew the man next door was peeking from the hole again. I could hear the sound of his breathing.

He did not know I knew. He thought he had hidden his presence well.

An hour had passed but the woman still could not find any money. This made her furious. Her fist that was holding my earring was tightened and she was stopping her feet in anger.

My brother was going to get married and my family needed money to fund his wedding.

This was the first time, my mother "visited" me in the city. Unfortunately, I was no longer here.

"Didn't they say a prostitute makes a lot of money?" she murmured in disappointment. Then she lowered her head in dismay.

However, on the other side of the wall, the man's breathing grew heavier.

Hearing this, my curiosity intensified, so I floated to his room. I wanted to see his expression.

As soon as I went through the wall, I saw flies swarming around discarded instant noodle cups. I could also smell the reek of cigarettes in the air.

There was a small bed in the room and next to it, there was a photo frame of a little girl with pigtails in it.

Then I saw the man. On his thumb, the blood that stained it had turned dry and reddish brown. I reckoned the blood was mine.

Suddenly, the man dropped to his knees and sobbed. His mouth kept calling, "Amy, Amy …."