Playing with death

Chapter 0

A lot of people told me that crying on birthdays is bad. They said that I would cry the entire year if I cried on my birthday. Well I did cry on my 18th birthday. Why? I don't remember. But i do remember that I actually spent the rest of the year crying. Well even if I didn't cry on my birthday, I would have still cried. The news of my dad in a car crash did shake me. It had been only a week since he started calling me his big girl. I couldn't take it like any normal person would. Funeral, crying, remembering, missing, moving on. Cause the more I stayed at home, the more I remembered him. Moving on?... I didn't know how to do that. So remembering him, missing him, remembering him, missing him, crying. I thought moving on meant leaving the good memories as memories so, I left. Left with a bag of clothes. Sneaked into a random bus. Reached Goa's port. Stole a guys phone. Sneaked into a random ship. Ended up in Italy.Trust me even I don't know how that happened. Shaved my head off to avoid perverts. When I came out of the bathroom with a stolen trimmer in my hand and random stolen men's t-shirt and jeans, looking like an absolute mess. A single question popped. "What now?".Starting a new life was a first time for me. Opened my bag only to find some things i stole along the way. Chips, a phone, trimmer, tshirts, ...knife..., wallet. I resorted to stealing, for only two days though, I got caught by a bar owner. He was ready to kill me till he found out that I was a girl. He said he saw his daughter in me and gave me a job. Sweet man. His daughter didn't deserve to die with two bullets in her heart. Bartending. He taught me everything thing he knew. Told me to keep my hair short so I don't get harassed. Gave me a room above the bar. €1500 was enough for a month. Work was plain until a random firing goes of in the place. I learned all the drinks on the menu, took me 6 months cause I end up drunk after every time i master a drink. Some times I only serve drinks. I started carrying a lighter and a cigrette pack for the customers in need. Eventually, I gave in to smoking. I bought a new lighter every once in a two weeks. My closet has 15 white shirts, 3 black pants, 1 blue jeans, a white tshirt and a black tshirt. My closet stayed that way for five years. All the lighters I bought stayed in the first draw after they are empty. My body didn't grow much. My hair stayed short enough to tie a small bun. I was flat enough to look like a guy. I took tablets to stop my periods. I didn't make any friends since i arrived here. Alone. Zero fear of losing someone. I still cry at nights if I ever dream about my dad.

Why am i saying all of this in first place? Well if u ever end up blindfolded, cloth stuffed in your mouth, hands tied back, and men kicking you from everywhere, you kindof start remembering useless shit. I am 23 years old and this story just started.