Chapter 1
Every little girl’s dream is to live in a castle with her prince charming. I recall the Disney movies I would watch on the old TV I had in the bedroom I shared with my big brother. Even at a fragile age, I knew these movies were only fairytales never to become reality.
My name is Bianca Chirilă, and I’ve been born in Bucharest, the capital of România, right in the heart of the dark neighborhood, Pantelimon. It wasn’t a lovely place, not with the constant illegalities around. Violence and drugs were common in this community, so common people weren’t shocked anymore. The family I was born in was on a lower social scale. The apartment I lived in was very small, but enough for my parents, my big brother, and little ol’ me.
I was in the bedroom, laying on my belly on the carpet with all my colorful crayons sprawled around me while I was drawing. The old music box from my deceased grandmother played softly in the background. A soft smile was sprawled on my face, only to drop when I heard the sound of my parents arguing in the living room. My teal blue eyes looked up from my sketch to the bedroom door.
“I’ve told you we need money for the rent and food! With your drinking and gambling, we will end up on the streets.” My mother screamed to my father, who didn’t hold back either.
“And I told you to stop complaining each day! So far, I am the only one bringing money into the house!”
It wasn’t the first time, nor would be the last. That much I was aware of back then. At first, I would cry in silence. Now? I had no more tears and only sighed, going back to my doodling. Money had always been an issue, and that was the main reason for my parent’s constant fighting. My mother was a stay-at-home while my father worked at a slaughterhouse. The problem was my father’s addiction to alcohol and gambling.
My ears perked up when I heard the front door open and then close, and my parents stopped their bickering for a few moments before resuming their acidic remarks. The door to the bedroom opened, and Vlad stepped inside, closing the door quickly behind me. His cold and annoyed expression quickly changed to a soft one once he saw me.
“Hey, little one.” He whispered, walking over to me and sitting on the carpet next to me with his legs crisscrossed. “Everything is fine?” He asked me. I was only six years old back then, while he was thirteen.
“Yeah... I am working on my art project for school.” I told him, setting the crayons aside before showing him what I’d been drawing for the past two hours. It was an eagle flying over a rainbow.
Vlad took the drawing, looking over it with a smile. My big brother rarely smiled — he would set the stoic walls aside and let warmness spread between us, only when it was the two of us.
“You are getting better and better with each day, little one. One day you will be a big artist.” He told me, giving the drawing back.
“By the way... I have a surprise for you.” My eyes lightened up at the mention of a surprise, and curiosity sparked like a small flame in a dark room void of any source of light.
“A surprise?”
He nodded, pulling down the zipper of his hoodie and pulling out a plush toy bunny. The toy was pink with white accents. So innocent, just like I was back then. It was a simple plush toy, nothing fancy, but back then for me, it was a luxury my family couldn’t afford. A grin stretched across my face as my brother handed me the toy. I hugged it tightly to my chest, enjoying the soft and cuddly feeling.
“Thank you so so so much.” I whisper-yelled, jumping onto my big brother, wrapping my arms around his neck, and hugging him as tight as I could. He chuckled, rubbing my back soothingly.
“Anything for my little sister.” He murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of my head. A moment like that I would cherish for the rest of my life. If only I had been more observant back then but what would you expect of a six-year-old?
“Where did you get it?” I finally asked my brother, whose smile dropped a little.
“I... work at a pizzeria and deliver pizza to people’s homes for money.” He told me, and I bought his lie then.
“Wow! Really? And you spent your money on me?” I was so clueless back then, but the small things my brother did for me were the only beautiful moments. They were like an eraser for my parent’s fights, the hardships of everyday life, and the dark clouds ever present around our lives.
My brother tried to fill in the affection my parents couldn’t provide. He was the only one I felt connected with, not only by blood but by our hearts. Vlad was my guardian angel, and as we grew up, things changed more. I entered the first years of teenagehood, and Vlad entered adult life. He always made sure I was protected in the dangerous district we lived.
At one point, he bought me a pair of new Nike shoes. Back then, they were expensive, and I constantly questioned him about where he got the money for them. He gave me the same answer. He had told me he worked multiple jobs, and the paycheck was huge. I wasn’t a child anymore, and his constant absence at night, only coming home to eat and shower, put me into paranoia.
My parents split up at one point, and that only added gasoline to the complicated fire of our lives. My mother left Romania to go to Italy. She had left my father for another man. I couldn’t blame her, though. My father wasn’t the best of men with his alcohol abuse and constant gambling. I recall how enraged my father was, but deep down, I knew it served him right. He provided little to our family. I prayed for my mother to find happiness in the arms of this man she chose. It was better for her. The thought of her staying only for y brother and I made me feel guilty. My brother, back in that time, was an adult, and I was halfway through high school.
That’s what I had planned back then — finish high school, find a job, continue my studies, make a future for myself, and never stay under the same roof as my father.
My father was very intoxicated one night in the clouds of alcohol, and I couldn’t stand to listen to the horrible words he threw at me, so I ran out of the apartment and down the staircase out of the block of flats. The moment I stepped outside, the heavy rain hit me like daggers. I didn’t have a raincoat on, but I could care less. I only wanted my brother. Not even the scary and dark streets of this district scared me. I knew these streets like the back of my hand, so I searched them for my brother. I found him when I turned down the corner of an alleyway.
My cobalt blue eyes locked with the icy blue ones of my brother. I could recognize him even with the black hood on. What shocked me was the scenario he was in.
A few other men were by his side as he was beating a man. The man’s nose was broken, and blood was running down the guy’s chin. The moment Vlad saw me, his vicious eyes turned soft in a snap of fingers. He swallowed hard and let the almost unconscious man fall on the dirty and wet concrete.
“Take care of him.” He told the other guys as he walked toward me.
I stood frozen there, like a baby deer who just saw carnal violence for the first time, although it wasn’t. Living in Pantelimon meant being familiar with this lifestyle. Vlad stopped in front of me, and crouched down, making himself less intimidating. He would have never hurt me. That much I can assure everyone.
“Little one,” He whispered, his hands cupping my cheeks, and I saw how bruised his knuckles were. Sticky blood coated his hands, and I knew my cheeks were now covered by the crimson liquid too. The color of brutality.
“You shouldn’t be here.” He told me in a firm yet tender voice.
“Brother...” I whispered, not knowing what to say back at that time, but now I knew what I should have said.
I should have told him to give up on that life and assure him we could make it out in life without being involved with these types of people — drugs, prostitution, laundered money. My gut had constantly begged each day to force my brother to leave the dark side, but he was headstrong... just like me.
He had assured me he would only continue drug trafficking until he makes enough money to get us out of the shit-hole life we were trapped into. Every night, while he was away getting involved in God, knows what, I would stay up and pray for him to be alright. That’s all I could do, but my prayers weren’t enough, because one morning, the police knocked at our apartment door. When I saw the men in uniform I knew something bad happened. My father wasn’t at home back at that moment, and the news the authorities gave me, made me feel like the floor underneath my feet vanished, and I was falling into a dark abyss of anguish.
My heart shattered right there as I fainted in the arms of the police officers. When I woke up, I prayed it was only a bad dream, but my hopes weren’t answered. The only person I felt like I could count on slipped from between my fingers like fine sand on the beach. For months I cried every night after my brother. I missed his warm embrace, his soft light eyes, and how he always assured me there will be better days with more sun on our street.
I was all alone... with my father. Vlad’s death only amplified my father’s toxic addictions, and the everyday insults intensified. He called me every name possible, trying to destroy each piece of my confidence and self-esteem, but I wouldn’t let him. Every night he would compare me to my mother. I build thick shields of iron around me, protecting me from his contaminated energy.
One night his insults got worse, and the biggest fear turned to reality. He was consumed in liquor as he held a knife in his hand, and I slowly backed away from him, putting distance, but he followed after me, ready to pounce.
“Marrying that whore and having you and your brother was the biggest fucking mistake of my life.” He spat, and I saw how he charged toward me through blurry tears.
Basic instincts overtook me, and I lunged forward, right between his legs, making him miss me. The next thing I heard was the sound of the window of the kitchen smashing and my father’s screams, then complete silence. I was breathing heavily, sweat covering the nape of my neck and forehead, making my long blonde locks stick to my damp skin. Turning around, my eyes widened, seeing the broken window and no sight of my father.
Slowly, I walked forward and looked out the window. My eyes widened, and I slapped a hand over my mouth to stop myself from screaming when I saw the lifeless body of my father all sprawled on the concrete below. People started to gather, shouting to call the police, an ambulance, anything.
I wasn’t accused of my father’s death, and to think this happened one month before I turned eighteen. The moment my father died was the moment I was truly alone — physically, mentally, and spiritually. I had to get a job, finish high school and take care of myself. I had no one.
After I finished high school, I continued my studies and entered college. That’s where I met Alexandra, and for the first time in years, I made a friend. We hit it off from the start, became best friends, and moved in together to save money.
That had been one year ago.
