Irritated, Anna straightened up. A young woman was standing next to her. She was wearing a white wool sweater, jeans and sneakers. Her hair was honey blond and her eyes a warm green. She looked sympathetic. What was this strange woman doing in her bedroom. "Hi mom. I'm Laila, your daughter. I brought you flowers. Look." Laila put red fragrant roses on the night table. They brought a little mood into the empty desolate room. Anna was in the nursing home and she was only in her early fifties. "I want to tell you something now," Laila sat down on the edge of the bed. "Maybe it will jog your memory, Mum." Anna saw that she was serious. She leaned back in bed and looked at her daughter-who she didn't know. "Mum," Laila smiled at her. Then she became serious. "Do you know why you're here in the nursing home?" No answer. As usual. Laila rummaged in her purse. Then she pulled out a blue booklet. She read it aloud. It was a very sad story. A diary. It belonged to Anna Reiter. It was about a sad child named Anna who had grown up in rich circumstances, had had everything but the love of her own parents. She had never been able to enjoy and experience the most precious thing. At eighteen, she married a man named Marlon, who abused her and beat her black and blue every night under the influence of alcohol. One day Anna tried to take her own life. She had enough of the sheer nightmare in her life. She spent many months in a closed institution. When she came out again, she met Emanuel. He loved her. Very much. And made her a happy person They had a daughter. Laila. But he died after five years in a serious car accident. Anna lost control of herself. And tried to take her own life again. She came again for a long time in treatment. Laila came to a foster family. And Anna to a foster home. Diagnosis: "Amnesia". She had lost her memory. "Please, talk to me," Laila begged her mother. "I've never heard you speak. The doctors say you can't because of your vocal cords. But some feeling tells me you can. I always imagined a mom who would cook for me, talk to me about everything, and be there for me. But you never were." Laila visibly struggled for composure, sniffled and then cried. Softly. "All you could do in your life was give up Mum, give up and think only of your own ego. Not of others who liked you and loved you." Laila stood up. She had stopped crying. "Maybe this is just your life. But I will never give up on you...never...because I love you." With those words, she left the room.
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