Prologue

In Barcelona, 08/08/2014, a girl with brown hair and eyes sits in a room painted red, where there is only a built-in closet and a double bed

In Barcelona, 08/08/2014, a girl with brown hair and eyes sits in a room painted red, where there is only a built-in closet and a double bed. Nothing more, nothing less.

─ At last a little peace and solitude. ─ She says, talking to herself.

She opens her notebook, and writes the following:

Writing has always been a therapy for me. I like to record the good moments in my life, the ones that make me smile. But I record the bad ones too, to understand them. To know myself better.

Maybe someday someone will want to read what I want to tell. Maybe, better than that, someone will feel empathy. That would be wonderful, to cause that empathy. Since for a long time I felt very misunderstood, and alone.

My name is Malvina Lynn, I am of Japanese-Brazilian origin, as you may have noticed when reading my name. And my mother's name is Eduarda. It is strange to start an essay talking about our mother, but this also has a reason. I would say that my story and hers are closely connected, much more so than that of any other mother and daughter, since some things she experienced caused her a mental disorder, and this pattern of behavior affected me and turned me into who I am today.

Our life together starts in the nineties, when she was 17. At a family party in Minas Gerais she became pregnant with Osmar, her third cousin, ten years older. If that doesn't seem problematic enough to you, my mother was drunk, and the intercourse took place in a dark room while she was asleep.

When she got home, she noticed the button of her pants burst and called her cousin Jena, who confirmed to her what had happened. Eduarda didn't tell my grandparents, however, for fear of their reaction.

And then I was born, in 1995, after several offers of abortion made by both my maternal and paternal grandparents, which were rejected by her. I was a seven-month premature baby with a fragile lung.

After my birth my parents lived in the same house as a married couple. Osmar at that time owned a grain company and land; therefore he was perfectly capable of supporting a family. However, my father was quite violent, cheated on Eduarda and used drugs.

My mother tried to return to the family, but was not accepted. She was always seen as a problematic teenager, unfairly. My grandparents fought in court for my custody, claiming that she had no means of living, and won. My father decided to abandon me and, curiously, had six more children, all of whom suffered the same misfortune as me: his indifference.

From then on my mother left for São Paulo, and I started living with my maternal grandparents and my Uncle Fabio, a 16-year-old teenager.

In the capital my mother worked in some supermarkets, and as a model, because she was very beautiful. She used to come at the end of the year with a bunch of presents. I would hug her, smell her, squeeze her, and then get very sad when she had to leave.

I was a silly, good, innocent child. Nobody explained anything about life, and my Uncle Fabio used to beat me for the slightest reason. Later I understood that he was a psychopath with all the traits, including killing cats as a child. It was not my fault. But healing that wound took a few years, and his scams and reprisals made me a bashful girl.

In 2002 Eduarda was offered a job as a waitress in Barcelona. My mother was very happy, as she was having a hard time in São Paulo; the rent was expensive and on some days she had to drink tap water because she had nothing to eat. The bosses would pay for her one-way ticket; the housing was free; all she had to do was pack. And so she did. She and another friend went on this adventure together.

When she arrived at the "restaurant" she realized that she had been deceived. A mafia whose heads were

Paulo and Matias confiscated her passport and told her that they would only return it when she paid the price of the ticket for the São Paulo ─ Barcelona trip. Who would have thought this of two brothers with biblical names? The place where they called her to work was actually a brothel. What Paul and Matias did, was actually trafficking in women.

And it was in this place where my mother met Xavier, the only man she ever loved in her life. Although he was a cocaine addict, I remember him fondly. He treated me with love, respect, and wanted us to have a father-daughter relationship.

After three years together they came to get married in Brazil. I still remember this beautiful day, I was 10 years old. I cried a lot, emotional because finally my mother had found someone. On top of that I was named maid of honor, and this title made me feel important, special, and wanted. As if I was finally part of something.

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