Dear friends, I will show you a few pages of my second novel "OWN PRISON"
The room was
filled with that quiet semi darkness of the down of the day. Dana could not
sleep, she was squirming like a fish on land, on a side to side, and her
thoughts were quivering in her head, making her tired.
For some time
now, the idea that she will go crazy among her colleagues with severe behavior disorders
was persisting in her mind. Yes, she will be a crazy woman for sure, and the
thought was scaring her terribly, literally horrifying her. At the moment she
was no longer blaming anyone for her unsuccessful life (at least so she was
thinking) as she was doing when she was in deep depression. She was accusing
her unknown parents who had abandoned her, leaving her among the
institutionalized children, she was accusing the staff who sometimes ordered
her with authority what to do or what to say, she was even accusing herself for
having unwanted thoughts. There were thoughts that were stabbing her mind and
then were disappearing asunder. It was very difficult to control them, make
them melt even then, in their first phase. The thoughts were caching shape
amazingly quick and she was filling with anxious feelings of guilt.
The girl sat up
and looked at the window behind her. It had started to snow. The winter had
come for some time, but there hadn’t been snowing at all. It was only cold, a
terrible freeze which was getting to the backbone.
Dana was sleeping
wearing a T-shirt and pants. She slowly stepped down on the wooden ladder, and
then looked at the other girls.
Now she was
feeling some compassion for them, although she had often considered them „scums
of society”. Besides she had also included herself in this category without any
trace of pride. She had no roots, she had no home. She wanted to share the joy
with someone, to feel her heart jumping by this feeling and to wipe her tears
in front of a gentle mother who feels sorrow for her and understands her pain.
Only the shadows of
the stars had remained, the trails of light had disappeared. The day was
starting to fall into place.
Dana left the
room, went to the big windows from the corridor and looked.
It
was half past six in the morning and the nurses had began to arrive or to leave
one by one, and although some of them saluted her, she was still looking at the
window without responding to them. Sometimes these women had been hypocrite
with her, they had shown her a false love and a comfort equally false (clearly
it could not be real love), and now she was not in the mood to say something.
Who could love her; no, the women were not cherishing love, maybe only some
pity (sometimes).
Suddenly she felt
her armpits wet and she went with shuffling footsteps to the bathroom at the
end of the corridor. She removed her shirt and pants and got into the shower.
The water was warm, she felt how she flinched and started to knead herself. She
did not like to stink. It was an unpleasant thing. She would have stayed here
forever, on the hall or even in the winter’s cold than to feel the pungent
odour of the room, medications, blood. Blood (when the girls were at their
period) and medicine alcohol with which the Big Tits used to rub her armpits.
She said that medicine alcohol drown perspiration and could even make the
armpit hair fall. In fact Big Tits hated to wash herself; in fact Big Tits
hated everybody. She was rancorous and every time she wanted to smile an imbecile
grin appeared unwrapping some beautiful teeth. Big Tits had beautiful teeth and
she was not even aware of that.
One time Dana had
beaten her soundly. After that, one of her eyes was swollen and her lip was
broken and seriously bleeding; and that because Big Tits had been rude with her
and insulted her. Big Tits was cursing everyone except Dana. Maybe even her,
but quietly. She was afraid of the girl because „she was strong and had a hard
fist”.
Dana got out of the shower
and as wet as she was, she put on again her shirt and pants. She looked again
out the window and a sad smile appeared on her face. It was snowing and in her
soul was no fitting any joy. She was alone. Loneliness was chaining her from
all sides, sort of wanting to enchain her forever.
She always wanted
to appear strong, to spit to the guts that desire of being a front-rank, even
to tilt to fight windmills, but she didn’t always succeed. One time, she cried
a lot because she had lost the silver necklace, her only jewel given to her by
Mario, the Italian who had come to the center as a volunteer.
Mario was cute
with long hair gathered into a ponytail at the back and eyes so blue that you
had the sensation that you were looking at the calm sea without any wrinkles.
Mario had liked her; he had made many pictures with her and had promised her
that one day she would see Italy.
Dana had been
excited. Even now Mario was sending her postcards from the sunny Sicily and many photos;
Mario with helmet on a motorcycle; Mario smiling with a friend at college;
Mario in many instances. Dana could not forget him this way.
The Italian had
become her long distance friend who brightened her soul when she remembered
him.
It was still
snowing outside, the snow had covered the flagstones and Dana remained at the
window next to the hot radiator.
A woman touched
her shoulder and she slightly startled.
„Well, little girl, what are you doing? Why
did you get up so early?”
Dana put a faint
smile on her face (in fact it wasn’t even looking like a smile).
„Yes, I woke up because..., well, just like
that. Why so many explanations”? the girl muttered.
The nurse left
with an air of „well, actually why do I
care about her”, winding her big butt.
Then Dana thought
that a new day was beginning again, with a leaden sky above, wrapped in that
sordid monotony.
n the morning
they were taking breakfast, and then the girls used to anxiously wait for lunch
and dinner. Otherwise, it was only routine, routine, and routine. And yet it
was good, because one day, in one humble day, she will be thrown into the
street and the fiercely winter cold or the hot summer sun will carelessly whip
her.
She was a mere
aided girl, meaning that the state was allowing her to crawl one more through
life without being forced to beg, in greasy clothes, on a street corner or in
worst case to prostitute. Her hands went to the temples as if she did not want
to think about or simply to stop the clock instead. She could see her opening
her legs so that men can posses her savagely; She, with her head to one side,
with her tears oozing on her cheeks and with the jaw clenched into a total
agony.
She
closed her eyes for a moment or two. For many she did not exist, she was not
representing anything on this earth, so nobody would have heard her inside
roar.
She entered the
room and her eyes were wet. She would break through, even if she had to cut all
the thorns near the road, bruising her hands and legs. The jungle of her life
could not be so dark (now she believed this and she amused herself a little).
* *
*
Big Tits tasted
powder milk with sugar and cocoa, speaking loudly. The sun had risen in the icy
sky. The gray of the sky above had miraculously disappeared.
Big Tits grabbed
a slice with margarine, took little bites of it and thrown it again on the
plate with disgust.
„Err; she said loudly, what is this mess? These are no good. What are these idiots giving
us?” She shook her fist once on the table, being nervous.
„Hey, hey; yelled an educator, nobody forces you to take it, if you don’t want it. You might as well keep
a diet, honey. Big Tits still protested.
„This idiotic country with this idiotic people”, grumbled her
quietly. She stood up from the table, pulled down the metal chair and got out
with her clumsy walk.
Pick-up the chair”, yelled a cook lady.
„Err; stupid”, whispered Big Tits.
The other girls
had started to giggle, thing which otherwise was not missing at any meal. It
was some kind of maintenance therapy, minutes of life which were not just
falling apart, but falling into place. It was good to know that no girl was
alone; everyone had gone into the same boat. All the girls (because it was a
shelter for girls) could have the feeling that they are not alone and that they
weren’t swimming in waters quite so turbid.
Big Tits walked
edgy to the room and flumped on the bed „What
are these thinking? That I am a fool? They are fools; they are giving us this
rotten pig swill”. The girl was continuously babbling and was not
interested at all that nobody was listening her.
She got under the
blanket with her knees to her chest. She heard her starveling guts, a sign that
the stomach was revolting by her own decision. „I will not eat anymore; just like that I will not eat because it is pig
swill”.
„Can’t you see that you are taking revenge on you?” asked Dana,
entering with a plastic bottle filled with milk; For later on, when she will be
hungry (the meals were three per day and at fixed times). The old cook lady
with hair like the carrot was always taking care of her and Dana was respecting
her for that.
Big Tits sat bolt
upright like she got a shock. Dana was her boss, and she was her humble
servant. She did hate Dana so much for this. She was a sneak which was not
blushing to use the others weaknesses.
„Dana!” said Big Tits taking off the
blanket, managing to stand up in front of her boss.
„Listen, Bibi, you should have eaten and then you
could overturn all the tables. She put a cunning smile on her face. Really, I wouldn't have been bothered at all. You were
afraid of me, weren’t you?”
Bibi shook her
head, and then fixed her eyes on the floor.
Dana came near
the girl who considered herself a slave even subconsciously. It has been built
a conditional reflex.
ana was the boss
– she, Bianca Manole (on her real name) was a slave without any right to
protest.
They called her
Big Tits because of her naughty large breasts who were lifting and hanging like
two cans when she was walking. And she was also not wearing any bra. Once,
years ago, she had one; she had received it from a girl from the centre where
she was before; a pink bra, more toward orange colour and which Bibi tiered in
less than two weeks. The bra was already shabby when she received it. Since
then, she decided not to wear bra anymore. It was for the best. Plus that she
had the sensation that she is harnessed.
Dana sat on the
bad and crossed her feet, wearing white, immaculate sneakers. The girl was very
neat and she was sacredly maintaining her stuff. Nothing that she was wearing
was indicating that she was coming from a foster home.
„Bibi, come and see.” And Dana proudly pulled out
from her blouse a thin silver necklace.
Big Tits was
watching with big, surprised eyes.
„Oh, she said like she had just found a treasure, it’s beautiful, yes, it’s beautiful. Where did
you get it from?”
Dana put it again
at its place and the necklace stuck to her skin.
„It’s a secret.” And then she said to herself:
„Do you want to know something? Many people love
me.” Finally, she winked and put a slippery smile on her face.
„What...do you want to sleep now?” she said, like
waking up when she first saw Big Tits in bed.
The girl began to
babble.
„Ah, well”, she mumbled, „it’s c.....cold”
Ok, ok”, said Dana, laughing. “But you didn’t forget about the schedule
today, did you?”
„No, no”, said Big Tits, firmly
shaking her head.
* *
*
Micky, the gipsy,
was simply throwing flames on her nose.
„What, are you crazy, lady? Did I steal your
make-up?”
The woman who was
selling cheep make-up in the market had her face really ugly because of the
nerves.
„I saw you when you put it in your pocket, Come on,
show your pockets.”
„Err, you are crazy”, shouted Micky, with her
thick-voice from the inhaled tobacco.
The
woman rushed at her and soundly shook her.
„You know
what, I am working, I am working.” Her voice was hoarse and rough.
„Wait,
wait”, said the girl, trying to temper her aggressiveness. „Look, I didn’t take anything” and she reversed
her pockets. „You are lying; you did not
see me putting the box in the pocket. Did you think that you will fool me? It’s
not working. I’m not giving you money because I don’t have and even if I had I
still wouldn’t give it to you. You are a disgustful woman.
Micky left
cursing. That woman was an idiot. She came from a foster home, it’s true, but
she was no thief.
All the people
had distorted opinions about her. And that maybe because she had olive skin,
maybe that...well, she was a gipsy. It became a thing among people, the fight
against the gypsies. But what, she was a nice gipsy, who had the right to live
and did not need the crumbs thrown to her.
Thinking at that,
Micky started to laugh alone on the street. What foolishness, in fact she even
didn’t get crumbs from anyone, if she did not ask.
But she liked to
think like that, just to smile to herself of her own thoughts.
She was thinking
that she was beautiful and smart. What did she have to lose? She was improving
her state of mind and she could laugh more heartily.
Micky was 20
years old, she was chubby, with big breasts (but not like those of Big Tits),
she was always dyeing her hair in red as fire. She was wearing intensely
make-up, especially blue mascara and orange lipstick. Why orange? Well, because
this was her favorite color. She had orange track-suits, orange shirts and
blouses; only the sneakers weren’t of the same color. At the center they were
giving them only of black-white color.
She was walking
down the sidewalk with her hands in her pockets and with a smile stuck on her
face. A car drove with speed and splashed her with dirty snow and she cursed
loudly.
After a few
moments she took again that smiley face and thought that it wouldn’t make any
sense to get nervous. Some people kept on remaining imbeciles and stupid
and...., no matter what.
Micky left the
center with a free pass ticket from the director. She had implored a lot that
woman with gray and disheveled hair, as if she had hemp on her head.
In the young
girl’s perspective, the director was an awful woman. She was chewing her out
every time she didn’t feel the need to master her aggressiveness, to release
the negativism within.
And nobody will
shout at her, nobody. Because nobody fought so much for life as her. When she
was only 5 years old, her mother, a fat and young gipsy, had dragged her from
the cabin which she called it a house and took her at a foster home from Giurgiu. In fact they
lived in Giurgiu.
The memories were
filtered through the time’s fog but in the girl’s mind they were somewhere in a
corner of the brain and they would never melt.
On the road, her
mother, the gipsy, was telling her with determined voice that she was only the
product of a one night affair in a stinky bed which smelled like urine and
other dejections.
„Your father was nothing than a stinking drunk with
whom I wanted in that night to f.... Are you listening, sis? After it I thought
that I shouldn’t. Look, you came along, a mess on my mind.”
Micky started to
cry loudly and her mom slapped her strongly on her face.
„Shut up, you dirty nigger! What would you like, for
me to take care of you?” she said with grudge, shaking the baby. I don’t know why I kept you for so long.
The little girl
was still crying. Children shouldn’t have stayed with their parents? Why did
her mother reject her with so much heartlessness? Had she ever loved her?
„Why don’t you want us both to stay at home?”
The woman
revealed her yellow and carious teeth in a monstrous smile.
„Home? You are calling that home, you poor girl? Is
that how you want to live? I am offering you something better.” Then the woman
stood quiet for some time, as thinking at something to save the world. Later
on, looking at a distance she whispered. „It
will be ok. Yes, yes. There you will
have what to eat.”
Toddling on the
sidewalk, Micky now thought that maybe in the heart of her mother there was a
trace of love for her. The girl had a faint smiled. Now she didn’t care of
anyone; neither of her mother of which she hadn’t heard a thing from 15 years.
Maybe she died. The thought of it did not make her tremble. She didn’t
care.
She had stayed
about 7 years in the center from Giurgiu and she would remember the most the
awful cold of the winter nights, when the wet woods failed to catch fire. Then,
like a miracle, some kids were transferred to Bucharest and „The Flowers” center became her
home. She had a place to stay; new colleagues who looked at her like she was an
intruder, but it was good. She had a warm shelter during the wintertime and a
lot of good food.
Micky could
survive anywhere. She was a fighter. Life had thought her to fight and to fathom
knowledge about survival. She would have been beaten a
lot at „The Flowers” until she took the courage and started to show her real
personality. She would have thrown herself to the battle. Wasn’t that the thing
that she liked the most?
* *
*
The doctor Geta
Popescu was looking meditative at some files. What was she doing here, among the
crazy women? She considered crazy all the girls from the center. They were
acting like everything was due to them, like all the staff had to do anything
for them because they were „oppressed” in this life.
The lady doctor
sniffed shaking her head. She had a miserable salary of which she had to
support her 11 years old son, Eduard. Her husband had left her two years ago
for a woman who was 10 years older than him. When he said to her „goodbye”
forever, she asked for an explanation with tears in her eyes and he looked at
her with an involuntary contempt, poorly camouflaged.
„This is life; you cannot ask too much if you don’t
have what to offer.”
What a stupid thing! What
did he mean by that; she hadn’t offered him a thing, but mere crumbs? What a
fool; he had the impression that woman was going to make his life a real
heaven?
She inhaled
deeply then she easily released the air. Hey, why she was always had to seek
through her mind as if trying to suffer. Wasn’t she looking for pain? Wasn’t
she looking for her guilt for which the bastard had left?
She moved her
head to one side and another and clenched her teeth.
God exists; Edy
was with her, why would she have to be so worried?
„Mrs. Doctor, Big Tits broke a window; And she cut
herself”. The girl who showed her head at the door had curly hair and lots of
freckles. Her name was Stella and she desperately wanted to become a boy.
„Mrs. Doctor,” she said one day, „I don’t want to be fooled by the boys. You
can operate on me, can’t you?” And a foolish smile was spreading on her
face of a child.
Geta ensured her
that this is how it will be and that she will be a true specimen of
masculinity.
And Stella was
laughing and chuckling like a crazy girl.
„I will beat them all; all these pigs,” she said rising
her fist victoriously, „all who hurt me”.
She was waiting
for the days when Popescu lady doctor would give her the big news. „You will now be operated.”
At night, her
dreams were compulsively repeating.
She was a
handsome boy, she was looking bold at the pretty girls on the street and
suddenly she found the perfect woman with whom she would have children. She was
wakening up smiling, her eyes sparkling because of an unexpected joy.
„What?”
The lady doctor
looked up from her papers.
„Big Tits”, the girl repeated, „she is not in her right mind.”
The lady doctor
smiled slightly. Why was she also so sure about that? She has been working at
the center for two years and she had seen a lot, so nothing was making her
tremble like it happened in the beginning.
Back then, the
fear was eating her. The girls were fighting; they were tearing their hair. One
of them even lost her teeth in a „fight” like this; a masquerade, a cruel and horrible
joke.
„Yes, yes Stella, I’m coming right away,” slurred Geta.
She slowly stood
up from her chair and left, walked by Stella to the Big Tits’ room.
Seizing the
opportunity, Stella asked softly and gently as a warm spring breeze.
„When will I be a boy?”
The smile spread
again on her face.
„What? Oh, yes, one day.”
„When? When?” chuckled Stella.
The lady doctor
bent toward her.
„I will tell you when the day comes.”
A crazy, crazy,
crazy world.
Bianca Manole was
kicking with her feet in her bedroom’s door. Dana was sitting on the bed,
looking at her as if she was watching an action movie.
Her blood had
been creeping on the carpet, the ugly injury was hurting her, but Bibi was
carrying out her aggressiveness and shouting.
„Err, fools, err, it hurts.”
„There she is,” said Stella smiling. „It looks like she is gone mad.” Then
she left.
