Gina

Gina was the most popular girl in college. She had a smile to die for, a body to try for and a mind to cry for. This simple and elegant girl would make grown men cry with her simple brilliance and the ease with which she made boys and girls hum with life.

She loved life and was living proof that life was indeed worth loving. She elevated the most mundane jobs into works of art. She was fine, so fine, that you could drink her like a bottle of wine. When she walked into a room, she set hearts beating so fast, you could think it was a rave if you really listened hard. She spread joy everywhere she went. To see her once in your day was like having a refreshing dip in the ocean after a long day at work. 

She rejuvenated you, she made you dream, she made you scream. She was loving and helpful, compassionate and understanding and gave herself completely to anyone who needed comfort. 

There was a story about her taking care of a young homeless man for six months by letting him stay in her guest bedroom and cooked for him and rehabilitated him. He in turn got a job and never forgot her kindness and got his life back on track in her honour. He knew that she was unique. Maybe even a saint. 

Being around her sent waves of happiness to everyone who was around. She worked part time at an animal shelter and always walked in carrying a rescued pet from the street. She was like that. 

She loved The Beatles, Van Morrison and Bob Dylan. She loved to paint and write. She had a poet’s heart and it was always bleeding for someone who was in a tough spot. 

And when the news came that she had been arrested for clubbing a man to death with a golf club, it confounded everyone. 

He was an uncle who she had lived with for a while when she was young. 

The subtext was clear and the case was dismissed and she was freed. 

She tried to live a normal life but her spark had left her. She could not deal with the feelings that came from having killed a human being. She lost her love for life and nothing could bring it back. 

She went into therapy hoping that someone will be able to change what she felt. Days went into weeks, weeks went into months and finally she got the courage to tell her therapist what her uncle had done to her when she was eleven and she cried and howled and wanted to kill him again. 

She needed to relive this moment so that she could understand her reasons for killing him. She knew that the authorities had forgiven her, but could she ever forgive herself? It was very difficult for her, as the person she wanted to be had let her down. 

She went to her car and went home. Nobody saw her for a few days and then news came that she was found dead in her car with a pipe running from the exhaust into the car with the windows up. Carbon monoxide poisoning they said. 

Nothing anyone said would have brought her back, she had killed herself the day she had killed her uncle. It was only a matter of time before it would happen.

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