𝔛𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔞

Prologue seconda parte

The next day was hot, boiling. My hair was sweating.

I ran into the bathtub and filled it to the brim with freezing cold water before I sunk in to the bottom of the big tub. 

"Already trying to commit suicide?"

My uncle's silhouette hovered over the tub, my vision was wavy from the water that covered my eyes. I stuck my head out and grinned from ear to ear.

"Da" yes

"Da? So you wanna die?" 

I started to laugh "Da. Die, die, die!"

"Okay then, since you wanna die." he grabbed me by the shoulder and shoved me in till my head was under the water.

I laughed into the water and made bubbles, not caring that I was getting dizzy. Zeke pulled my head out. "You still want to die?" 

"Smert'! smert'! smert'!" death death death

"You suicidal child." We both laugh as water splashes everywhere. My head kept going in and out of the water till I asked for "mercy." At this point, half the water was on the floor. 

"Come down for breakfast when you're done okay curly."

"Ya budu" I nodded. I will

******************************************

The heat was killing me. I sat at the long table with the same people from yesterday and more. Chatting and drinking more wine. They seemed less active than last night, tired but still drinking. The kids were at the corner again, the same dark haired kid played with a wooden board with wheels on it while the other kids glared at him in amazement. As all these interaction occurred, I watched from the corner, fanning away the heat. 

He was an older kid. I could tell from the way he seemed more grown up than some of us. He looked like he didn't care about anything but his wooden board. 

"You want to play with it?"

Everyone's eyes was suddenly on me. He had an accent similar to mine, eastern european, a feature that gave me a bit of comfort. The hair on his head was also like mine, curly and dark but mine swept my shoulders while his mopped round his eyes and neck. When I looked at him, I saw grey, so much grey, the sort of grey that pierced when they looked at you, as though they were trying to touch your soul. Like they were doing now.

I looked around to be sure it was me he was talking to. That amused him and he laughed, coming closer to me. 

"Vy khotite igrat'" you want to play? He tired to place the board in my shaky hands.

"ty govorish' po-russki?" you speak Russian? 

His smile widened "ochevidno" obviously. "poigray s nami" come play with us. 

Wrapping an arm round my neck, he dragged me to the centre with him, introducing me to various names and faces. They were all nicer than I though they'd be...most of them. Everyone really. 

Except Dafne Ghio-Gucci. The second person I wanted to be friends with. But she hated me despite how much I wish she didn't. 

********************************************

The more I spent time with Sorin, the more I acted like him, dressed like him. He taught me a lot of things over the summers as I stayed with my uncle. Because oh him I learnt many English slangs, Romanian, Italian and even Russian words that my parents kept from me and I now from them.

Riding a bike was easier than I thought, what was hard was "skateboarding," but I mastered that, followed by the guitar. Unwarranted, Sorin gave me a lot of clothes that he outgrew as we hung out together in the house he shared with his brother who was always gone because he mostly stayed in Romania ever since he joined the army.