Chapter Sixteen

I always believed that life is worthless and meaningless, Daryna commenced. A life in which we go through pain and torture from our fellow beings isn't worth living through. No one saw this war coming; no one predicted it; but it came unexpectedly. I know this was the worst time of my life.

When the war began, I looked at myself and wished never to be a victim. However, I didn't know that I was going through an illusion phase. I was eight years old when our country experienced war for the first time. I was never in that city, which they eventually captured. Growing up, I saw soldiers with prosthetic legs who went to fight for our country. They were emotional, and it made me feel emotional too. But I never knew that they were recuperating so they could commence the most brutal war that took place.

My mum has always been a heroine since 2014, according to my dad. She was heavily involved in the evacuation of citizens from the city that was captured in 2014. I was very small then, but I could vividly remember events that happened around me. Back in those days, I asked my dad about the whereabouts of my mother, and his response was that she would be back soon. On the other hand, my father played the role of both a mother and a father at the same time. He was loving and caring. My elder sister was also an amazing girl. May her soul rest in peace.

That fateful day, sirens started, a bomb blast occurred, missiles wailed, and we were scared. My dad and mum chatted with their relatives, who mostly live near the capital city, and they said it was gory. It looked like Russian forces were actually told to destroy human beings that they come across because they flaunted their own rules. According to the constant chatting with our family relations. Russian forces said wear white bandage to be safe, but still shot civilians. I showed videos to Mylana and Anna, but couldn't show you the bloody ones because they took our phones. I lived in Bucha. A symbol for horror and brutality. A place where people were killed. I am a victim of rape and torture. I'm proud that I would give birth to a child and tell the history of what I went through. It wasn't my fault, but my mum's belligerent behaviour made it worse for us.

After two weeks of the invasion, my father volunteered that he wanted to be enlisted in the army. It was the weirdest thing I had ever heard my father talk about. But he reassured us that he would be coming back home. He tried to be optimistic, but unknowingly, his life was about to end. That same day, he went upstairs to make a call to inform his friends about his decision, when we heard a loud scream. We rushed out to confirm what really happened to him. When we got there, we saw the column of Russian tanks lined up and firing. We knew that something tragic had happened to my father. I shouted his name, but he didn't answer me. Just then, a missile struck the stairs where my sister was stepping. My mum and I, stayed two steps back from her. I saw her fall and land on the floor. It was like a flash in my eyes.

We went quickly to the last floor. My mum dashed to the room and took out the car key as I ran to check what happened to my older sister. She was writhing in pain with her eyes closed.

"Galina, are you alright?" I asked her with full palpitations.

She didn't answer but pointed her left hand to her neck.

"Talk, please," I pleaded with her.

There wasn't any response from her still as tears came out of my eyes. My mum begged me to carry her along with her. I struggled to carry her up; she was very heavy, but despite that, I successfully carried her up. I heard an explosion, looked out the window, suddenly the shattered glass broke out and hit my face. I couldn't move in time and it cut my skin near my left eye. I screamed out; the pain was too much. I still held on to my sister. I didn't notice any pain around the side of my eye at first until we got into the car. When we put her in the back seat, my mother got angry and warned me not to touch it before running inside. Something trickled down my cheeks, but it wasn't tears. It was blood. I was surprised. I didn't feel any pain throughout the time that I walked down to the parking lot. As I kept on wondering, I felt the pain. It started in a minimal way and gradually increased. I covered the injured place with my eyes, and when I did that, the pain increased the more that I had to close my eyes. It became very painful.

"I told you not to touch it; why are you disobedient?" I heard my mum's voice.

"It is painful, mum," I whispered in a teary tone as she began dressing it with cotton wool.

"Remove your hands," she commanded.

I removed my hand and closed my eyes as she dressed it up.

The cleaning and dressing of the wound took about fifteen to twenty minutes. She finally cleaned it up and placed a bandage on it. I cried out; it was extremely painful. My mum consoled me and told me to enter the car quickly, so she could at least save the life of my sister. I struggled when entering the car—I almost lost my footing—but eventually I entered. My sister took up the whole back row.

"Galina, how is the neck? I hope you're getting better." I asked, closing my eyes to reduce the pain I was going through.

I waited for her response, but there was still no response from her.

Suddenly, I heard a screeching noise; it was as if a metal object was scraping through the floor as my mum drove the car.

"Oh damned, they've shot the tyres of our vehicle." My mum spoke out frustratedly as she hit her hand somewhere.

I began noticing the car was slowing down gradually.

"Mum? What's the problem?" I asked curiously.

She hissed, "Are you deaf? Didn't you hear what I said now. I need to park the car right now."

This was always my mother's reaction. She would get tense and the only way to calm her was to offer a solution. I tried opening the unaffected eye, but I couldn't because of the excruciating pain I went through.

My mum began crying. I could hear her whimpering voice. I asked her if she was crying, and she said she was alright.

"Just lie on the floor," she said.

"Alright," I answered.

Less than a minute after I answered my mum, a hoarse voice threatened to kill her if she didn't surrender. My mum tried explaining to them that she wasn't a soldier, but the voice never cared about her words. The voice told her to open the car door, which my mum disobeyed.

"I am rushing them to the hospital," she said.

"Damned liar!" He exclaimed.

"Take a look at the car; they're all victims," my mum said.

"It is either you obey us or you get killed by a bomb right now," another threatened.

"It's better we all die than open this door. We can't do that," my mum spoke out courageously.

I heard a sudden bang on the side window, and that was when I knew that they were serious. My heart started pounding with fear and horror. I prayed within me, but God didn't answer my prayers. Instantly, I felt a cool breeze blowing on me. My mother screamed out, but her voice didn't last for more than five seconds as she hummed. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my legs as I shivered. My body started vibrating as something was placed on my mouth immediately. I opened my eyes, and I saw some rough men already in their boxers. I tried screaming, but I couldn't. I didn't know what happened to my mum but I could still hear her struggling voice. I tried crying, but my eyes didn't bring out tears. Just then, someone widened my legs. I tried struggling with the person, but the person kept on punching my legs until I was very weak. Then the person removed my pants and inserted his object into me.

I can't say what happened next again, but I saw myself in the hospital. How did I get there? I don't really know. After one week, one of the nurses told me that my mum had died. She was strangled to death, while my sister died of internal bleeding.

Daryna stopped talking as tears rolled down her cheeks. I comforted her, but then I cried too. Her story made me remember my own tragic experience I had with them. I looked at Mylana and Anna; they were rooted to their spots. Their eyes were misty and reddish.

"They thought they could destroy our spirit, but they don't know that we are very strong. Our love has increased." Anna said, "I love my country and I'll die for it if I have to."

"Please, where are we?" I interjected, patting Daryna on her shoulder.

"I don't really know, but they've taken us far from our homes," said Mylana.

"This place really looks like a hotel, isn't it?" I asked cleaning my tears.

Mylana and Anna nodded in confirmation.

"Wake up and queue up; we're about to go for summer," a voice spoke out from a speaker in the room.

"God! I can't stand this pain and torture; I really need your help," I screamed, attracting the attention of a soldier who burst into the room.

"Who screamed?" he asked.

No one answered.

"Are you deaf? Who shouted like a dog?" He queried, walking closer to us, "failure for you not talking, I would punish everyone in this room,"

I raised my hands to signify that I was the one who screamed. He came closer to me, slapped me hard, and threatened to kill me if I made another derogatory statement.

"Please kill me; I want death," I pleaded while holding the left side of my face with my hands.

He kicked me again. I screamed out, and then he walked out of the room. Mylana and Anna rushed to me, where I was lying down.

"It's alright... this is their way of life," Mylana sobbed.

On the dawn of a foggy morning. I woke up and saw myself in a strange bed that was given to me by a woman who adopted Mylana, Anna, and me. She refused to let Daryna in, and I wondered if it was because of her injury. She tried to be friendly and humorous to us. She said she hated the war in Ukrainian Land and was glad her sons and husband weren't around to fight because they would have been enlisted in the war. She warned us not to tell anyone what she had said. The two days that I stayed in the house, she tried to play the role of a therapist to me. She assured us that she would be like a mother to us.

Despite all the assurances she promised us, we felt unsafe. We were never sure of their actions. Mylana stretched her body and opened her eyes while I pretended as if I was in deep sleep. She started sobbing profusely in a quiet voice as she whispered to herself.

"Why are you crying?" I asked.

She fidgeted; perhaps she wasn't expecting that I would be awake at that time.

"No... nothing," she muttered, wiping away her tears immediately.

"Please tell me," I begged.

She smiled and then lay down on the bed again.

I stared at the four corners of the room, admiring the architect by whom it was designed. The room had a colourful chandelier, a curtained window, a big bookshelf, and a reading table with a chair beside it. On the opposite left, there was an entrance to the toilet and bathroom.

"Finally, your country has won... they've sent them away; at least they should come back home." The room door screeched and opened; it was Mrs. Olena.

"Really?" Mylana asked curiously, smiling.

She came nearer to us and gave a double kiss in our cheeks respectively before she said her last statement.

"Come over to the living room," she said and walked out.

I jumped out of the room alongside Mylana as we ran over to the living room. The TV was on. I quickly skimmed through the writings on the screen. "Russian battalions retreated from the capital city of Ukraine."

After reading through it. I jumped up for joy. Mrs. Olena embraced me immediately.

At last, they have been defeated. I meditated.

Mylana started crying again, and I didn't know what had triggered her to do so. We went closer to her and consoled her. Mrs. Olena had previously warned us not to tell anyone to stop crying whenever they feel like doing that. "Let them cry their grief and burden out," was her word.

"Mila, what happened? Why are you crying?" She asked, stretching out Mylana's hair gently.

She didn't respond, but after a while, she spoke out.

"My mum and dad are dead. I am the only child of my parents; I feel sad that they aren't alive to witness this scenario," she continued crying.

Mrs. Olena nodded in sympathy as tears fell from her eyes. I wibbled at the wistful memories that sparked into life.

"Don't you believe that she would come back to life? Very soon you will see her again," Mrs. Olena consoled.

"I don't believe in that. That's a big fantasy," I returned.

She looked at me and smiled, "It is real. It happens. Believe me."

"That's not my belief. It is a lie," I interposed.

"And that's why I see the reasons—our country invaded your land. The fascists and narcists in your country have really spoiled the people there, and we're going to remove them. Your forefather's belief is now a fantasy! Damned!" Mrs. Olena called out.

"Innocent blood shed is the best way to do that, right?"

"Stop talking, unless you need the police here to arrest you for being an arsehole," she cautioned.

"Please, if the call can end my life, do it. There's nothing else in this life. Death please, why do you decide to leave me alone?" I began crying.

"Alright. I won't call them again; I can't allow you to die," I heard her voice.

I stood up and walked out of the living room for the bedroom and locked the door up.

"What's the problem? Why are you crying?" Anna asked, stretching her body to its full length.

"Nothing; I hate here, and I want to leave," replied I, in a husky tone.

"Everything would be alright; we would go back home very soon," she squirmed out of the bed and placed her hands on my shoulders, rubbing them intermittently.

I laid down on the bed and then closed my eyes as I continued to sob.

I woke up in the evening feeling weak and had a headache from crying and not eating all day. My eyes darted around the room to see if someone was inside with me, but there wasn't anyone in the room. Then I looked at the ceiling blurrily and reminisced on the war going on in my country. The death the war had caused and the brutality of the Russian soldiers. I wondered if I could overcome my grief and be happy again.

Now that we have won the war, what's next? Will they come back to their land and torture us? Why are we here? Why did they bring us out of the war? It would have been better if we had died in the war. How I wish I had stayed inside my room when the missile struck so that I would have been blown up. My mum would be happy to see me in the spirit's land. She is disappointed right now. What will my future look like now? In fact, I am frustrated and tired of living in a wicked world like this. When will death take me? What can I do so that I can die quickly?

Tears rushed out again, the headache increased even more, and I was already having a taste of death. I clutched on to the bedsheet and gripped it firmly. My chest tightened as I remembered that I was pregnant for Andriy Dark. I tried to erase his name from my memory, but I could not.

How can I erase the memory of someone who raped me despite the pleading I did? That's impossible. I wished him death on the battlefront. I know my brother would kill him. Karma would catch up with him.

As the thought kept coming, I heard a knock on the door, and I wiped away my tears quickly. The door screeched, giving off an irritating sound, and then opened. It was Mrs. Olena. She walked up to the bed and sat on it.

"Mila, there is something you don't know yet," she began in a mousy tone, "I myself am not happy about the war. I wished I could go out and protest, but they would lock me up in jail. And according to what I heard, once you're in jail, there is a little chance for you to come out alive. We have a tyrant as president. You talk against him, you invite your death. Famous people who spoke against him either died or fled. You must choose one. All the media here is indirectly controlled by him. He appoints his own people to do his work. I can't complain about my cash transfer issues because I fear being traced. Some of us here aren't in support of the war. It is of no advantage. We have everything. I don't know why the president acts in such a weird manner. I used to love this man, but I now hate him. I mean our president. He is a liar. We don't trust him anymore. His compatriot lied on the radio, advertising that volunteers who are willing to go to war would be paid a huge amount of money. Nobody would pay you. I am very sure that his soldiers will revolt against him, but he has his way. He is a deceitful and tricky man. Now that sanctions have been coming from everywhere, he has gone to the media to boast of what we don't have. Very soon, I know, the price of everything would soar higher than this.

In fact, if I should continue talking about this man, I would stay here till the next morning. I am very sorry for what I said earlier this morning. Can I bring in your food for you?"

Her words acted like a balm to me. It lessened the grief I was holding on to. She was becoming someone I could put my trust on. I felt like saying something, but at the same time, I was confused.

"Where are Mylana and Anna?" I asked in anxiety.

"They are in the garden; they are playing with the plant and discussing among themselves. You can also join them if you are through eating your meal," she said.

"Alright, but I don't have the appetite to eat," I replied, staring at the bedsheet.

"Mila, it is a sandwich, with rye bread and tea," she responded, holding my face with her hands, "I would get it now. Just wait."

She stood up and walked out of the room. A minute later, she came back holding a tray in her hands and grinning at me.

"Mila, come and have a taste of it. My children loved this food when they were still alive. You can take a little."

"But I am having headache," I returned.

"Aww. Let me get you a drug to relieve it," she dashed out of the room.

I looked at the food, but I had no appetite. I held my head with my hands to suppress the pang of the headache as it continued increasing. She came back holding a cup of water and a tablet.

"This is it," said Mrs. Olena, "drink it and then eat your meal, or should I spoon feed you?"

"No, I am alright," I returned, swallowing the drug.

"I would leave you now. When I get back, I expect you to have finished the meal. Don't worry about bringing out the plate; I would do it myself," she said.

"Alright,"

She opened the door, stared at me for a second, and waved her hands before leaving.