~prologue~

Which part of this whole mess does in fact matter? The traumas, the good moments, the rare tranquil moments of peace, or perhaps nothing at all? I wonder which one shall be the one. Well, there is a little of everything, and I will tell you a little bit of each one. Meanwhile, let's start with the beggining... when it all began.   I was young, an age I can't even remember. From the stories, the police reports and the gossips, I have a rough idea of what the truth was. I was a little over 5 months. 27th of October, 2005. Miuleț Mihăiță, father of six, deceased. Cause of death: car accident.    I was living in a small village with my family. As the sixth child and the youngest, I didn't know what was happening around me. As you might think, at the young age of 5 months I couldn't realize who my mother actually was. Let's do some research, maybe we can have some insight of what this family was about. We are six children, three boys and three girls. As I said earlier, I am the youngest. I have an older sister, which is four years older than me. I don't exactly know what the other's age was, as I don't know it even now, 16 years after "the incident".    My father was working really hard. He had been working at a national train company. His salary was average at best, but for living such a life, we couldn't afford to want luxury. Poverage was defining us the best. He had his bad habits. Smoking, drinking, but with a measure. As almost any man, you always like a cold beer after a day of work. But a certain person wouldn't think of it like that. The same person that put him down, the same one human that dragged him down from his set path. That person is my mother. Miuleț Antoneta, mother of six, unknown.    My mother allegedly created the term "contempt". Making food, feeding the village, then feeding her children and her husband. Sexual intercourse with others was no surprise either, as she was known for such acts. Making scandals over every little thing, just for the attention, etc. Despite that, I can't say I despise her or anything. She is my mother, and she will always be. I always loved her, and I will always do, in my own way, at least.    I mentioned earlier, I couldn't know who my mother actually was. She is a human, you might say. A person. A woman, my mother. Well, yes. In fact, she is, but she did not want to. Long story short, she wanted to avort me and my sister, us being the last ones. She couldn't afford it, so she kept both of us. But, that led to looots of things happening in the meantime, while I grew up. There were bad moments, but still, good moments as well. "Wherever there is light, there will always shadow to be found as well." I will tell you, chronologically, everything I remember, and the most certain facts. Let's start with the beggining then...