The Short Unhappy Life of Mail Jeevas
My name is Mail Jeevas, and I was killed when I was 19 years old on the 26th of January, 2010. It was a Sunday, 6 sleeps away from my 20th birthday.
Heh. I have just ruined the ending of this story.
But why did I die? And if I could narrow my life down to a single moment, what would be the good in knowing the event which lead to my death now?
I already died like a dog.
It makes me feel tropety…Which is a word you will find out later on.
But wouldn't it be interesting to have my life written down in words? Maybe it would give a bit of meaning to my existence…It would be remarkable, I guess…If my life could really be called remarkable…
This isn't based on a true story…This is a true story.
You know how you forget things, such as days and dialogues? Not me. Not anymore. I can recall my entire timeline if I wanted to, giving every exact detail down to the date of each incident.
I guess if I were to go through my entire past, it would trick my self into believing that I was alive again…
Of course I can't tell you every single second of my life, or else you would be listening to me for over 19 years. Almost 20, actually. So I guess I shall say about fairly significant days of my past…Maybe with the odd insignificant one just to make my story seem more realistic…
Realistic? Can that word even be used to describe the world I lived in?
No. My world was anything but realistic…Ever since I was little, my life has been one large adventure…It makes me sad that some people wish that their own lives could be just as thrilling. All I have to say to those in the audience whom wish this…Be careful.
There were four angels in my life that shaped me into who I became. It was mostly my fault that these four died, actually. Yeah. More or less.
Mummy. Mercy. Marie. Mello.
My four angels…My four dead angels…
Maybe I should begin with the day I was born…
February 1st 1990.
I can remember that I didn't shed a single tear when I was born. Of course while I was alive, I couldn't remember my first few moments outside of my mother, but now I can remember every single breath of new air I took.
I was tired and I didn't like my new surroundings. People were rubbing me with a weird thing I would later know as a 'Towel'. The doctors seemed confused as to why I refused to cry. They were probably afraid for my life, or their jobs. It probably depended on the individual as to what they were more afraid of losing.
I heard a voice, but I didn't know what it said at the time since I had no idea of languages. I now know that the male had harshly stated "Hand the runt to me."
The nurse whom had been holding me seemed to shrink back from the dominating man, but she quickly gave me to him.
I remember looking up at my father with my innocent dark blue eyes. He didn't look much like me, except his hair was the same colour that mine hinted to be. A bright apple red. The man's eyes were a hard, sharp green. I hated him immediately. My little voice began to echo from my throat as I started to cry.
A feeling of relief swept through the room. My father passed me abruptly back to the nurse. She took me and tried to soothe my unknown woes. My voice soon quietened down and she wrapped me in a blue blanket.
"I'm sorry about your wife, sir…"
"I don't need your pity."
My mother had died during child birth. Maybe if she had survived, then I wouldn't have been killed when I was 19…No, that wasn't the moment my life was changed…
It still would have been nice if she hadn't of died, I guess. Who really knows?
I never learnt about my Mummy. Even to this nonexistent day, I haven't the slightest idea. I liked to daydream about her, though. Still do. A beautiful angel, with eyes an even darker blue than my own and long, golden curls. With a voice comparable to an angel's, and a personality just as angelic. Was this image fake, or was it exact? I shall never know.
My first Angel, Mummy.
"I'm leaving the runt here for a few days. I'll pick him up soon." The man turned and was about to leave, when the nurse whom still held me stopped him.
"But sir, we need a name to go on his birth certificate!"
The man was momentarily stopped. He didn't look back at me or the nurse when he became the first person to know my real name.
"Mail Matthew Jeevas."
With those three words out of his lips, he left.
That was the last time I ever saw my father.
He never came back to the hospital. I don't know whether he just forgot I existed, didn't want me at all, or even if he had died.
The nurse whom had held me soon adopted me, and became my legal guardian. She herself was fairly young, only 21 years old. Ironically, her name was Mercy.
I never did find out her last name.
December 27th 1996
I was 6 years old when Mercy was killed. She had gotten me a ball for Christmas, along with a Game Boy Colour. I was told to play outside with the ball for an hour, or else she wouldn't let me play with my new gaming device for the rest of the day. She was out the front gardening, and I was playing a mere 4 metres away.
I remember that she would grow the most beautiful roses. The ball she had given to me was flawlessly round and perfect for kicking up into the air.
I accidentally kicked it too hard and the ball bounced out of reach. It leapt along the grass and rolled out onto the road. I quickly ran after it.
Maybe if I had looked both ways, she wouldn't have died…At that time anyway, seeing as all humans die at some point in their life. At the end of it.
I didn't see the black car as it drove towards me. Mercy did. Before I knew it, I was suddenly being pushed forward. I fell clumsily onto the road, scrapping both my knees and the palms of my hands.
My six year old self didn't cry at the pain, choosing to ignore it. I stood up, looking around to see who the culprit was. What I saw traumatised me.
Mercy lay on the ground, a pool of runny red blood circling around her head lazily. Her right leg and left arm were bent at impossible angles. She was face down on the pavement, the car standing still at her left.
Even then I didn't cry, I just stared.
A woman got out of the black car, seeming just as terrified. What was she so scared of though? The fact that she was now a murderer, the fact that her car was now damaged, or that she might actually go to jail. She looked at me with her small grey eyes.
"You, boy, go call an ambulance!"
I nodded bravely and ran back across the road over to my house. When I came back, both the black car and the lady were gone. Mercy still lay there untouched on the road where she had been killed.
People are horrible creatures.
I had called the ambulance, already knowing that it was too late.
This event was probably what gave me my fear of the outside world. I learnt at an all too young age that humans were truly disgusting. I mentally became locked in my own little world, a place of ignorance, imagination, and innocence.
My second Angel, Mercy, was now dead.
It would be years until someone actually broke me out of that tiny box, and it would be painful…Julia…Why Mello? Why did you kill her…?
Oh. I am getting ahead of myself. I'd apologize, but I am not allowed to.
January 1st 1997
Mercy's relatives hadn't been able to take care of me, so I was being sent to an orphanage in Winchester, England. It was supposedly a place for gifted children, though I couldn't see a reason why I was being sent there.
In one hand I clutched my beloved Game Boy Colour, while the other hand dragged my bag along the Airport's smooth flooring since my arms were too small to the carry the large bag off of the ground. I was abruptly stopped by a man halting right in front of me. I looked up at the figure I would come to know as-
"Hello there, my name is Quillsh Wammy. It's nice to meet you Mail."
I blinked up at him, and gave him a soft happy smile. I immediately liked him. He wore a black suit and a bowler hat. Wammy had an air of kindness and tradition around him. He also smelt of sugar and old books.
"Would you like me to take your bag for you?"
I gave a quick nod and he took the heavy rucksack from me. He took my small hand with his free one, leading me out of the airport.
"Mail, is it okay if people call you Matt from now on? At Wammy's, we do not use real names." I looked up at him, confused. "It is a special orphanage. Is that okay?"
I gave him another smile and a soft nod, giving approval to the name 'Matt'. He smiled softly back at me, leading me into an odd, roundish car. I crawled into the back seat, and he closed the door behind me, making his way into the driver's seat.
I looked around the interior of the car. The seat was soft and smooth. Now that I look back at it, the seat was made of leather, though at the time I had no idea what it was. Heh, irony…Oh wait, you won't get the irony part yet…Forget what I said.
"So, what do you have there?" I looked down at my Game Boy Colour, and then lifted it carefully into the air so he could see it in the rear-view mirror. "Well isn't that a neat little device?" I nodded in response, pulling it back to my chest.
The car rumbled soundlessly into life and began taking me towards my new life, and my new problems.
You may have noticed by now, but I couldn't talk. Nobody could understand why I couldn't. The reason was because I just didn't want to. Words were harmful things. I could understand English very well, so I knew exactly what others were saying.
I chose not to be harmful.
Wammy seemed to know about this, as he did not ask me any questions which required verbal answers. He continued to drive the odd car, and I began to play on my precious Game Boy.
We soon arrived at the orphanage. Wammy got out of the car and opened my door for me. I took a step out and looked up at the large building.
"Here, let me show you to your room."
Wammy lead me through the pristine hallways. There were no other kids around, but I could hear laughter coming from outside. The fatherly figure led me up a flight of stairs. After we passed a few doors, he stopped outside one which was tinted a soft honey yellow. The plaque on the room read '26'.
"This will be your room."
My fingertips gripped softly onto the golden door handle, turning the knob neither slowly nor eagerly. The door creaked open, revealing a very clean and bright room beyond. Sunlight shone through the open blinds, bathing the room softly with its yellow glow. The place smelt of books and something else which I couldn't put my finger on at that point in time.
There were two neatly made beds, wooden floor boards, a large wardrobe and two desks. One of these was absolutely cluttered with papers, books, and weird foil wrappers.
Wammy pushed me gently, encouraging me to take a look around. I walked in, and moved straight to the cluttered desk. The books were huge. Wammy placed my bag down on the bed closest to the door. That probably meant that that bed was going to be mine.
"There are kids outside if you want to go and try to make some friends." I looked at him with my large blue eyes, shaking my head softly. "I am sorry, but you should probably go outside for a bit of fresh air after that long plane trip. You can bring your Game Boy if you wish."
I gave a soft pout and a miserable nod. He led me out of the room, taking a different route to the back door of the orphanage. As we walked, Wammy named different rooms. Library, bathroom, cafeteria, music room, class rooms, and laundry room. Eventually, we reached a large door. I could hear the children excessively by this point. Wammy opened the double doors for me.
"Good luck, Matt. I have some work to do, so I will leave you to yourself now. Try to make a few friends."
I gave a woeful nod and toddled out into the big world beyond the safety of the doors. The children seemed to take no notice of me at first, but as I walked forward, I felt eyes catching onto my movements. Studying me. Determining whether I was a threat, their prey or simply neutral. My feet did not speed up nor slow down as I continued to walk. None of the children called out to me. They would take a sharp glimpse at the new kid, and then went back to their fun. I disappeared from their sight behind a large tree which sat near the back of the play area. It was shady and seemed safe enough.
I began to contently play on my little gaming device, taking my mind off of the children's laughter.
"Who are you?"
I blinked and looked upwards at the new figure that I would come to know so damn well in my future.
Looking back now, I can say that it was that exact moment that my life took a turn for both the better, and for the worst.
Later, I would know him as my fourth Angel, Mello. Mihael Keehl.