When you're a child…
you only watch.
You don't understand where all the sadness, anger, and arguments come from.
You don't understand why there's no peace in the house.
Why there's no happiness.
You wonder why we act differently when we're alone…
and like a completely different family when someone visits.
In front of the neighbors, we pretended to be a happy family.
At home…
we lived in chaos.
My father drank a lot.
Even today, I don't know why.
Was he unhappy?
Disappointed with life?
Or maybe disappointed with us?
But when he was sober…
he always said he loved us.
My mother suffered more in life than anyone I know.
She went through everything.
And when she had me and my sister…
it felt like she finally had a reason to keep going.
She always used to say:
"I live for you."
"And I fight because of you."
And she meant it.
She did everything so we could have something.
My father worked too.
He brought money home.
But together with money…
he also brought sadness.
Anger.
Alcohol.
And other women.
I remember the same scenes over and over again.
Late at night.
Silence.
And then…
the sound of his footsteps through the yard.
I would stand on the balcony and watch him stumble home drunk.
My mother was already nervous because she knew what was coming next.
God knows where he had been.
And with who.
And him…
already cursing before he even walked into the house.
I stayed quiet and watched.
Because I knew…
anything I said could make the chaos even worse.
He walked inside.
Cursing at us.
Cursing at my mother.
He sat down to eat.
Nothing was good enough.
He provoked us on purpose.
Like he wanted to throw all the anger inside him onto us.
And in my head…
only one question:
"Why us again?"
But this time…
my mother couldn't stay silent anymore.
She answered him back.
Because he had crossed every limit.
And then I stood up too.
I told him to stop cursing.
I still remember the look in his eyes.
While eating…
he suddenly threw the plate against the wall.
I will never forget the sound of it breaking.
He started slamming doors.
Shouting.
And I was terrified.
I stood there frozen.
Thinking only one thing:
Would he hit my mother again?
My sister?
Me?
Another fight started.
I followed my mother around the house…
just in case I needed to protect her.
Eventually he went into his room.
And slammed the door so hard…
the whole house shook.
We went back to the living room.
An uncomfortable silence filled the house.
And like every other time…
I buried all of it deep inside myself.
Because I already knew what tomorrow would look like.
Once he sobered up…
everything would go back to normal.
As if nothing had ever happened.
The next morning I walked into the living room.
They were sitting together drinking coffee.
Talking calmly about what they needed to buy.
What they planned to do that day.
And me?
I was still thinking about that night.
And slowly…
learning how to hate him in silence.
And how to one day escape from all of it.
On the stage of my childhood…
the most beautiful black swan performed.
Because of him, the lights went out.
And the curtains of hope kept falling.
And from my past…
there was nowhere left to run.