I lived a happy life as a kid, with no troubles and no care about problems. Just go to school, visit the church once a week and get no complaints from the teachers.
It was the best, in my opinion, I used to try making bread by myself, stealing crumbs of bread at late night. Going out to Ireland, once a year, meeting grandmother and grandfather.
They used to live in a big barn and had those big cows, The cow's milk was delicious.
I loved sleeping in the green pastors and riding a small horse we had, a black cat I was never able to befriend.
I remember my family always laughing at each other and we enjoyed our time.
Aside from that, my school life was also amazing. I had good friends from the very first day of school but there was something more special about it.
There was one really cute boy in my school. We used to play all the time. I used to love sending time with him.
"Mary loves to play with him."
I remember my friends always teasing me about him, whether I was happy, they asked,
"Were you with him?, "You like him?"
They asked all those questions, I remember I was flustered during those times. My mind would jump to conclusions like marriage and everything.
The boy was in fact, the son of a noble. He used to bring all these expensive foods and share them with me.
I was always ready to eat them, those cocoa bars and milk would just brighten my entire day.
I never even wondered why he treated me so many things,
"It's funny."
I think he used to be like that because I didn't treat him like a noble's kid and like just another friend. Maybe the feeling our feeling resonated with each other.
Maybe, we'd grow up and have a happy married life just like my parents. Two kids, a girl and a boy maybe two boys. I can imagine everything.
The story of my life sounds like a fantasy. A wish that people's hearts would want to grab on. My story always feels like because,
"They are all lies."
The story I told myself was just a dream from a book I read. The truth was what I felt in my heart and the scars on my body.
I remember my classmates throwing stones at me when I was seven,
"You took our bread!! I have nothing to eat!" "Your Parents are thieves."
I remember all those insults thrown at me every day. I would never tell it to my parents as they were suffering too. Sometimes even my teacher would throw me out of my class for no reason.
"I can't get any work. They are paying us, no money for so much work."
My father and mother both always worked hard, they never complained in front of me and only talked about their sadness after I slept but, I was a bad girl so I listened to them.
The next memory, I have is the worst one, the day our house was burned down.
"Don't kill us! I beg you!"
The Mob of people carrying pitchforks and torches was standing in front of us, breaking our house apart. My mother was holding me tightly, while my father was begging in front of the crowd to spare us.
I was really scared at that time so I don't remember much, but the last thing I saw,
my mother being beaten by a shove as she covered for me.
"It hurts so much!"
She wanted to say that, I know it but saw my face she smiled even with the tears flowing down her face.
"It will be okay. God will protect you."
Those were her last words as vividly as I remember them, maybe they were true.
The next time I gained consciousness was at a brothel, I was lying on the bed and a lady was sitting right beside me, she was looking worried, her hair was black and she was rubbing my legs with something. I felt really good.
"..."
As I tried to move my leg, the lady's eyes shone, she looked at my face with a hopeful smile and,
"Thank god, you're alive."
The lady hugged me as I tried to realize what was going on.
"It hurts."
"Oh!, I am sorry. Are you okay?"
"Yes."
"Good, please stay down. I'll bring you something to eat."
The lady moved away, and I heard the door slamming. She was in a complete rush.
As I tried to move, my body wasn't moving properly, I was feeling numb.
I moved my head around and saw a blood canister, joined to my arm with a needle,
"?!!"
I realized my entire body was wrapped in bandages and other bandages coloured in red were thrown around on the floor. The colour red reminded me of the memories before I lost consciousness.
"Mama! Father!! Where are you?"
I screamed at the top of my lungs, tears were swerving in my eyes but my body didn't move. I was crawling, shouting at the top of my lungs.
That moment was maybe the last time, I spoke the truth inside my heart as a pure and normal human. After that moment I abandoned my identity as a little girl, Mary.
A person who used to see the pain and easily bear the pain as the strategy of her life. I changed myself for the better.
Dear Diary,
Isabella Venganzal.
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