{"id":1,"date":"2025-07-22T11:41:21","date_gmt":"2025-07-22T11:41:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/peurmeletrecutului.ro\/?p=1"},"modified":"2025-08-03T18:29:03","modified_gmt":"2025-08-03T18:29:03","slug":"franturi-din-carte","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/peurmeletrecutului.ro\/en\/franturi-din-carte\/","title":{"rendered":"Fragments from the book. Unspoken truths."},"content":{"rendered":"
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\n

Each fragment below is a testimony. Not fiction, but raw reality, lived in silence by thousands of abandoned children in a ruthless system.
I invite you to read with an open heart.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u2705 Fragment 1<\/em><\/h5>\n
Title: \"The Hell in the Yard\" \u2013 Chapter 17<\/em><\/h5>\n
The orphanage yard should have been a playground. For us, it was the ground for punishment.<\/h6>\n

There, in that yard enclosed by high fences, a different kind of game was played: who could escape without bruises.<\/p>\n

There I learned that you were not allowed to fall. You were not allowed to cry. You were not allowed to ask.<\/p>\n

The older boys lurked in the corners. The caregivers stood at a distance, like absent statues.<\/p>\n

It was not play. It was survival.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u2705 Fragment 2:<\/em><\/h5>\n
Title: \u201cThe First Cry in the Absence of Angels\u201d \u2013 Chapter 27<\/em><\/h5>\n
In that bedroom, there was no sleep. There was only waiting, eyes tightly shut, as if sleep could stop what was to come.<\/h6>\n

The dormitory was a corridor of suffering divided into equal silences. Small bodies huddled beneath blankets too short, on wet mattresses, in air thick with resignation\u2026 Each child dreamed of falling asleep before something happened. Because in the orphanage, night did not bring rest. Night was a hunting ground.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\u2705 Fragment 3:<\/em><\/h5>\n
Title: \u201cThe Road to the Unknown\u201d \u2013 Chapter 13<\/em><\/h5>\n
In a place where pain had no voice, silence became the only form of defense.<\/h6>\n

Hunger. Beatings. Silence in which even crying was forbidden. Nights with jaws clenched from the cold. Every wound, every slap, every moment I kept quiet just to survive\u2014all of it seethed within me.<\/p>\n

Download the PDF e-Book<\/em><\/h5>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t
\n\t\t\t\t\t
\n
\n