aga12

They played house. They fulfilled their little dreams and whims. She made breakfast, he washed up after dinner. They went for walks with Karinka. He, she, and the stroller with the little one. They didn't know how long that time lasted, a time of joy, so sincere, flowing straight from the heart, without a shred of longing. Happy people don't measure time. Because happiness can't be contained within a single moment. They couldn't; they lived day to day, enjoying every smile from their child, every favor they did for each other. No one paid them any attention. No one worried that Karinka was missing from the house for hours. No one cared that a strange girl was in charge of the kitchen. That was freedom. Damn freedom and the lack of care – love... Thanks, Dad! Thank you, Mom! For being, being, and always being there. Somewhere far away. In your beauty salon. And to you, Dad, for always being able to count on you. In your company. For not one of your employees will leave you disappointed. For remembering. About the problems at the company. And for forgetting about your family. Thank you so much! For letting them hit rock bottom. And for not extending a helping hand. Gratitude remained. Until the grave. Gratitude, because they only know two feelings: gratitude and hatred. Both are one and the same in their world. Both hurt. They hurt themselves because their parents have already forgotten them and won't accept anything from them. And it's a shame...

Few people can break free. Few have someone who can stand by and offer a hand in moments of greatest despair. They found it. A dream... It all seemed like a dream. So wonderful, it was unbelievable. Impossible. For them, happiness seemed an impossible, unattainable feeling, unattainable, every day. Maybe they were right. Maybe it's not worth rejoicing; you don't know what tomorrow will bring. Tomorrow is unknown to us. They didn't know either...

Until she saw something strange happening to him. Happiness is blinding. Maybe that's why she hadn't noticed before. Or hadn't noticed because she simply didn't want to see? She didn't want anything to destroy their world, which they had meticulously built on the foundation of what had been... He told her. She cried. He was addicted. Not to marijuana, but to the powerful drugs he'd been taking for two years. Coming to the wall was supposed to be his last resort. And it was. He'd met her. When she found out, her whole world fell apart. The nights they'd spent talking, the shared mothering of Karinka—it all lost meaning, faded away, in the face of the fact that they weren't honest with each other. Can a junkie be honest? Does he still have that shred of dignity left in him to talk about everything, even the things he himself abhors? After all, he even abhors himself. But... She loved him. At least she thought so. Because did she know such a feeling as love? Could she be certain of it? Could she love? She herself missed pot, but caring for her child and him were helping to kill that longing. She was afraid of what would come next. It was already over. She didn't want this...

She decided she wouldn't let him fall. It seemed like she couldn't sink any lower, but it turned out that rock bottom was only the beginning of the hell she could find herself in. She wanted to fight. Fate had taken so much from her without giving anything back. She accepted it passively, accepted the odds, didn't fight. But this time she would fight. She had something to fight for, someone to fight for! She remembered the boy from the station. It wasn't worth it! Yes. Now she understood. A warning from a junkie. He couldn't fight anymore, but he didn't want her to fall into that swamp either. And now the person she loved was buried up to his ears. Telling Paweł it wasn't worth it was a bit of an understatement. He had nothing to fight for, no one to fight for. He loved Aga, but that wasn't enough. He knew that people you love most often leave quickly. His mother, his father, they had loved him once too, once upon a time... And then they were gone... All that remained were memories. Memories that hurt... They hurt terribly... She would probably leave too... He couldn't trust anyone. And drugs stay. They don't leave you at the worst possible moment. He had money, connections, there was no problem. It was that simple. A friend, money in hand, and a package of white powder that he would give anything for. And he didn't have to fight for anything. He got it whenever he wanted. No struggle, no fuss. It was simple. Didn't he remember? Maybe he didn't want to remember that what comes effortlessly is most often hopeless, evil? Injecting a drug required minimal effort, even if he didn't have the strength; there was always someone nearby, lending a helping hand... To kill... To kill another piece of humanity. His humanity. And the high was wonderful. He forgot.

A complete breakdown. What was there was gone. Goodness. Their shared, dream world. The building blocks they had built had crumbled. Couldn't they withstand the test? They had a chance. She fought. Aga had experienced happiness, and she wasn't about to give it up so easily. It was something she owned.

Karinka turned nine months old. She sat up, tried to take her first steps. And she started talking. Mama... These were Karinka's first words. Except that the real mother had no idea that the child was already speaking. The words were addressed to Aga. The tiny, defenseless, inconspicuous creature accepted her, considered her worthy of imitation, loved her. Loved her with a child's love, without any ifs and buts. Such love is the most beautiful of all. Dad, addressed to Paweł. It hurt, yet it was also joyful. It was very joyful. He was proud. He was proud that someone loved him, that someone gave him affection for free, without any struggle. Without anything, for free. Karinka loved them simply because they were there for her, because someone kept watch at night, got up when she woke, cuddled her when she cried, and was happy when she was happy. They gave of themselves what they themselves hadn't experienced in childhood, and she was able to repay them. With a smile. That was enough... for her. But was it enough for him?