☾ Chapter 1
On a cold winter morning... The water in the large copper tongs on the stove was heating up. I had a white towel wrapped around me. My brother put the blue basin where he had laid the table cloth, directly opposite the stove. After checking the water in the tongs, he called me to his side. I sat down in the basin, resigned to my fate. Even though the stove was burning, I shivered when I took off the towel I was wearing.
"Are you cold?" my brother asked as he poured warm water over my head.
"Yes, I'm very cold." My brother's lips curled to the side. I touched his dimple with my wet finger, which became evident when he laughed.
"You have to bathe, or you'll get sick." He picked up the white soap and washed my hair and then my tiny body.
When I came out of the basin, he wrapped me tightly with my white towel. He dried my hair thoroughly with a towel. He poured the water from the basin into the bathroom and came to me with my clean clothes. I was sitting right in front of the stove, trying to keep warm. My brother dressed all my clothes nicely. He carefully combed my damp hair. He had a very special place in me. He was my family. For me, he was strong enough to take on the whole world; although he is only ten years old.
I watched as he tried to hang the towel on the pipe of the stove to dry. He had a short stature, so he had to jump to access the pipe. I sat back. The small wooden coffee table didn't seem to be the best option for me to lean on. The moment I leaned back, it was bent backwards with me, and the porcelain vase on him was frozen in seconds. I stood up in fear. My mother was going to kill me. My brother suddenly grabbed me by the shoulders and carried me across the room.
“Are you okay, did anything happen to you?” he asked as he picked up the pieces from the ground in a panic. He covered his hands tightly so that sharp porcelain pieces would not slip and fall from his palms. He was directing the drops of blood that were about to drip from the palm of his hand to the ground to his elbows, lifting his arms up.
“I’m sorry, it’s my fault.” I started crying because I was so scared. My mom would be angry with both of us, and my brother’s palms would be bruised because of me.
“Don’t be afraid, brother, I’ll talk to our mother. Don’t say you broke it, did we agree?”
“Okay,” I said in a bittersweet tone. He threw the broken pieces in his hand into the trash can next to the stove.
At that moment, the iron door of the house opened. My mother came in with fuel in her arms. She looked angry. She was chopping wood before daybreak, so he wasn't wrong to be angry. He let loose the fuel in her hand. He came to us; He looked at the pieces of the broken vase, and then at my brother's bloody hands.
I flinched with fear when she shouted, "WHAT'S GOING ON HERE!"
"Bora, you go to the kitchen," my brother said without breaking eye contact with my mother. I quickly walked away. However, instead of going to the kitchen, I stood by the door and watched them from the threshold. Was my mother going to beat my brother too much?
"Mom, I broke the vase. But as you can see, it's clear right away-" With my mother's slap, my brother's sentence was interrupted.
"He was cleaning up... I'd be surprised if you managed to do something right." My mother picked up her rolling pin on the back of the old sofa. He flashed with horror in my eyes. My brother stood in front of my mother fearlessly. His head was held high, but his eyes were full. Every once in a while, he sniffled. I closed my eyes tightly as my mother lifted the rolling pin. I could only hear the voices. "Kneel, Toprak!"
I opened my eyes because there was no knocking sound. My brother was on his knees and stared at my mother. My mother slowly moved up behind my brother and hit him the back with a rolling pin. My brother grimaced, but he wasn't screaming. By now he was used to all the beatings he had received from my mother. He was a strong man and I admired him. I wanted to be like him when I grew up.
"You look just like your father." She pushed it with the tip of the rolling pin. My brother, who was on the ground, looked angrily into my mother's eyes.
"If I'm really like him, it's an honor for me. At least I didn't pull it on you." My mother swung the rolling pin at my brother again. This time the blow landed on his waist. My brother was suffering because of me. I had to do something.
"Nasty!" shout Mommy. I rushed in as he lifted the rolling pin back into the air to hit my brother.
"I was the one who broke the vase, I'm sorry, Mom." I bowed my head and clasped my hands in front of me. I couldn't look at her face and couldn't see what he was doing. But I was sure that I would be the next victim.
I could tell by the shadow that had fallen in front of me that she was approaching me. I shuddered. She gripped my arm hard with his empty hand.
"You two, are you kidding me?" Her tone was calm. But I could feel the anger hidden behind this calmness. When his gaze turned to my brother, I looked with him. My brother got up from the ground and came over to me.
"He's only five, Mom," he said, gritting his teeth. He grabbed my mother's hand and cut off contact with my arm. My mother was not surprised that my brother was so opposed to her. Because that's how he always was. Altruistic, strong and mature...
That brother of mine whom I admired... He was always a completely different person. It was a rainbow blooming in the sky of my life, whose colors were fading. He always protected me, watched over me and stood by me. He was also the first to run when I cried.
If one day my paths were to diverge, I would vow to find him. There was a secret bond between us, he was my everything and I was his.
It wasn't long before that. That dreaded moment came. My brother, who was at the peak of his adolescence, was fighting with my mother again. I could no longer plug my ears or close my eyes.
"I hate you! You poisoned me with my life." My brother was rebelling against my mother. It was just a verbal altercation, wasn't it?
"I'm your mother, ungrateful! I carried you in my belly for nine months. I've given you a life!"
"Mom, I'm hungry! I swear to God, I even need dry bread." My brother's voice trembled. He was almost mad with anger, He was crying. Those screams he screamed inside... The voices of all of them filled my ears. My brother was right. We had a terrible life. It was all my mother's fault. Since our financial situation was bad, he wanted us to bring money home by working hard instead of making us study. She was also working himself. However, the money that entered the house was caught in the net of our gambler stepfather and ran out within hours. So my mother wouldn't let him in the doorway, hoping that one day he would come to his senses and make efforts for us. And that's despite the fact that my dad lost a bet on one of my older brothers. I was so young, I didn't know where my brother went.
My mom was crazy. She began to take all her nervousness and stress out of my father. She was violent with her and they fought most evenings. Years passed, my mother could not give up her violence. She would take her usual rolling pin and beat my father until he bled from his mouth and nose. My father had given up gambling because he was afraid of him, I think. And yes, my brother was right: my mother poisoned life for us and starved us.
My mother looked at her with an expression that I had never seen in him before. Her gaze was so sharp that it even made me take a step back, even though I was far away.
"Then go and feed yourself. You don't need me anymore." My brother turned his back on my mother and walked away, taking a few steps. Then, suddenly, he paused where he was.
Turning to my mother again, he said:
"I'm very curious about one thing; Who's going to take care of you when you're old, Mom?" and my mom gave my brother a cheek-scratching slap with the back of his hand. My brother grabbed his cheek on this slap and smiled bitterly. He wiped away the tear that ran down his left cheek to his chin and sniffled. "Don't forget what I said, will you?"
My brother walked away and grabbed his backpack from the worn, splintered wooden shoe rack and put it on his back. I didn't know what was in the bag, I was sure it was heavy. He put on his feet with his muddy white shoes with a worn top.
"Where are you going?" my mother asked after me. Startled, I turned to her. I was frightened by the fact that she suddenly appeared behind me.
"I'm going to go to Istanbul and find my father. And then I'll come and get Bora." He opened the iron door. I couldn't stand it, my heart was broken. What would he do on the roads alone? How was he going to get to Istanbul? How did he intend to find our father?
I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist and buried my face in her back and started crying. I didn't want him to leave, I didn't want him to leave me. Because I knew that he was going to hand over the burden on his shoulders to me. What would I do if something happened to you on the roads?
"Don't go!" My tone sounded uncontrollable. My sobs were loud enough to almost make the whole village groan. I didn't care about that. "Me... Don't let go!" He tried to push my arms, which I wrapped around his waist, away from him. When he didn't succeed in that, he gave up.
"I promise, brother. I'll be back for you. I'm doing this so we can live a better life." I wasn't convinced, but I let him go with my arms relaxed. I couldn't be selfish.
When my brother stepped out the door, my mother pushed me aside and grabbed my brother's arm and pulled me in.
"You're not going anywhere, Toprak!"
"Remember that I have a grudge against you, Mom." My brother freed his arm from my mother's bony fingers and left without listening to her.
When my mother's sharp gaze was drawn upon me, I quickly fled to my room, which my brother and I shared. As I sat on my bed and resumed crying, I ran my tearful eyes across the room. My brother had a lot of reading books and diaries that he left behind. I'd like to read them all, especially their diaries. But I couldn't, because I couldn't read or write. I had never been to school in my life.
This life wasn't fair. While the rich kids in the city were getting quality education, I didn't have that chance. Our financial situation and family dynamics were not conducive to this. This was one of the reasons why my brother left the house. He had been dreaming of seeing his own father for a long time. But he never mentioned that he would undertake such an action. Maybe at the end of the day he would give up on it and go home.
He didn't return... It's been a whole week, he hasn't returned. I didn't know what was happening to him during this process. He didn't have much money. I was curious about him and missed him very much. I kept waiting in this damn house in the hope that he would pick me up. Our peace was at rock bottom.
I witnessed my mother and stepfather fighting between them every day. We were on one of those days again. It was late afternoon; The sky was bloody, and the orange rays of sunlight were streaming in through the window of my room. My mother's screaming was coming from the kitchen. My stepfather was crying and begging my mother. I didn't know the subject of the fight. It was annoying to just stand there and put up with their voices. I didn't make a sound so that the zucchini wouldn't explode on my head.
"You don't even deserve my hatred, you headless!" My mother's voice was followed by the sound of glass breaking.
"Please don't, I beg of you. Forgive me. What more do I have to do to get you to forgive me?" There were sounds of things tipping over. At this rate, the whole house would collapse on our heads. I clung tightly to the iron cap of my old bedstead. I squeezed my hand until my fingertips turned white. I was thinking that if one of them left the house, I would be saved.
"That's enough!" My mother's voice came closely. My door opened with a big creak. She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me towards him. But I did not get up from my seat nor did I leave the iron head. "Bora, you have to choose?" What would I choose?
My stepfather appeared at the door. The area where his cheekbone used to be was bruised, and the blood from his nose dried at one point above her lips. It was pathetic. He was having trouble standing. When I looked at my mother's face, I could see nothing but greed and anger. Those were the only expressions I could see on her face at this time.
"What's the matter with me, Mom?" My eyes shuttled between the two in fear and terror.
"Do you want to go on with your life with this unqualified, worthless dude; Or with your mother, who would risk anything for you?" I was in the midst of indecision and despair. While my mother's gaze made me suspicious, that voice inside me was warning me not to choose her. I was very fond of my mother, but I was very afraid of her. I didn't want her to beat me.
"I can't make a choice," I muttered. I wanted to get away from there. I wasn't ready to make a choice. I wasn't in a good time frame to make a decision that would change my whole life. I hadn't thought about it yet. "At least not now."
"You're going to do it right now, Bora!" I was short of breath. It was the first time I felt like this. I got worse and worse. I felt a heaviness as if my throat was being tightened. I can't breathe. I put my hand on my chest, accompanied by coughs. What was wrong with me?
