Chapter 1
December 13, 1925, Bucharest.
I remember only two parts of that day. The first—how we, a happy family, were preparing for a trip to celebrate my birthday. The second, however, was far more bitter to recall.
I remember the sound of glass shattering and how my younger siblings suddenly went silent in the back seat. I remember my mother’s groans of pain. I remember my father’s desperate screams when he saw Cecilia and Gabriel beside me, bleeding out... their bodies pierced by wooden shards. On that day, I had only one question: Why did I survive? Why me?
December 16, 1925.
My late siblings were laid to rest. And yet, to me, they looked so alive. Cecilia wore her beautiful, flowered purple dress—the one she only wore when we played together. Gabriel had been dressed in a strange black suit with a white tie around his neck.
My father sat close to them. I watched the crowd of people embracing him; I didn't recognize a single one of them. I knew they were relatives, but I didn't know them, because they never showed up when we were happily celebrating New Year’s, Thanksgiving, birthdays, or just ordinary days at home.
Suddenly, a momentary silence fell. I couldn't see my mother anywhere. I went to look for her, but I returned to the graveside feeling hopeless. My father looked into my eyes, and he knew—she wasn't coming back. I went to him, hugged him, and began to sob.
The priest started reciting words I couldn't understand. Then, they lifted the lids of my siblings' narrow wooden beds and began to cover them. I watched as they descended into the depths of the earth. I couldn't let them go; I caused a scene, screaming and crying as I stared at them:
"Stop! It’s not time yet! They haven't said goodbye! Wait... wait for them to say goodbye... please... wait!" I shrieked. "Alicia can't last without Daisy, and Gabriel can't stand to see his sister crying!"
My father wouldn't let go of my hand. I could feel the pressure of his fingers deep in my bones. They placed the wooden lids on top. One by one, everyone began throwing flowers, weighing down their "beds" with soil. I turned to my father, weeping:
"Father, but the walls will collapse when the earth gets wet... won't it hurt them?"
My father, eyes brimming with tears, could not answer. Suddenly, my head spun, and I collapsed to my knees. I couldn't feel the air; I lost all sense of my surroundings. My face hit the dirt, and the world went black.
