Hello, my name is Cristina, and I want to tell you the story of my mother, who now requires the support of people with kind heart. In 1972, in a family of 9 children, 2 twins were born. Unfortunately, their mother died during birth. In such a large family, with many difficluties, it was decided that these two girls needed to find a new family. But a few years later the woman who started to raise them, also died. The girls grew up among strangers ... until my mother met my father at the age of 17. They got married ... and it seemed that mother had found a man and a family with whom she would feel at home. But things turned out to be compeltely different... everything was fine until the first glass of spirit, the first slap in the face, the first fist! ... Mom suffered  a lot ... because I was only a few months old ... Then my sister was born. Over time, my parents built a house, but the beating and violence continued. I was little and still remember when, together with my sister, we were hiding in the corners, while my father brutally beat my mother ... I couldn't do anything because i was afraid, because he beat us too. Often, together with my mother, we left our home and waited at neighbors' house, in the corn fields, in the closets, until my father fell asleep ... we looked out the window, whether he was sleeping or not ... so that we could enter in order to warm up at least a little. .. it was winter outside, and we were barefoot ... God ... every time, mom returned home just for us ... Then something changed, dad he stoped drinking ... for a while he calmed down, he was more quiet .. during this period my brothers were born. The family already had 4 children ... But the situation soon changed!!! Due to jealousy and drunkenness, he again started to beat my mother. He beat and scoffed her for 30 years. And she endured everything for us.
Now I’ve already grown up ... I have my own children, family, but I don’t have my own house where I could invite my mother to live, I live in a dormitory. The last time I called home, my mother did not answer the phone, I went to her and found her lying on the floor, bruised ... At that moment, I remembered all these 30 years of beatings, bruises, broken lips, nose, disfigured faces, broken ribs ... hospitalizations and how much I looked forward to her returning home.
Now I took her and my brothers to my place, because they are still children: Mihai is 14 years old, and Laurence is 10 years old. I have several jobs to support my family, as well as my mother and brothers. It's very difficult for me. The five of us live in the same room, in a dormitory. This is all I can offer them.