About
My name is Viktoriya Ivanov... and this is my story...
A small girl shivered in the cold streets of a Moscow winter in the year 1998. Crouched into an ally, she was doing what she could to keep warm. She had on a basic long, red skirt, a loose, long-sleeved shirt, and wool boots. All her clothes seemed to be wearing thin in places, and tears stains trailed down the dirt on her cheeks. She clutched a thin blanket around her shoulders. Her nose was red and running, and every now and then a sniffle could be heard, followed by her rubbing her nose against the blanket. She held the blanket tightly around her, trying to keep her face in it as well. As an abnormally strong gust of wind swept by, she crawled a few feet deeper into the ally. Her stomach was empty, and most of the other street urchins had found warmer places, the best she could find was here, in this ally. It wasn't the worst ally, as it was in between a laundry and a kitchen, but there were places much warmer. Wherever she went where there were other children, they kicked her out. She was small for her age of barely 9 years, and the other children had no use nor want for her. It was cruel. It was survival for them. For her, it was certain death. She begged what food and money she could, but in the harsh, cold, winter months, no one liked to be outside, so the people willing to help feed a small starving girl were few and far between. She pulled her knees to her chest, and waited for a kind passerby.
~~~~~
This small girl is now older. It is the year 2004, and this small girl is now a young woman. At the tender age of 15, this small girl is stronger, and able to fend for herself more. The survival that was once a great challenge is now second nature. It's summer time, and she wears a set of cut off denim jeans and a thin t-shirt. She runs through the streets, laughing with a loaf of bread in her hand, the baker angrily chasing after her, yelling as he goes. She whips through the streets and alleys of Moscow, avoiding cars as she goes along. As she runs, she heard a screech, a honk, and the sound of something large being hit by something going along very fast. Turning around, this young, hungry child has inadvertently caused the death of this baker. She is known for her crime, but not for murder. Witnesses would later say that the way she was running through the cars and traffic, it mustn't have been an accident. The baker's family and friends would want her death, and the people of Moscow support them. They only want a nuisance gone.
Having the police out for her, the other street urchins avoid her. She has no friends to turn to. Being seen on the street will have her fellow people detain her for the police. Alone, and hungry, with nowhere to go, this young 15 year old walks herself to the police, and turns herself in.
~~~~~
It's the year 2007. This young woman is now 18 years of age. She is a legal adult, and now punishable for her actions three years ago. They'd waited these three years to hold her accountable for something she'd done as a child. In her cell, she received her dinner on the night she knew would be her last. The dinner was the usual, but she tried to relish it, make it last. It was half an hour later when she began feeling the effects of C-2, A drug that was used in killing humans without leaving a trace.
She felt her body weakening and knew that it'd been her dinner. It took half an hour before the full effects of the drug kicked in. She lay on her bed, wanting to sleep. She found that impossible though. Spending the next few hours in calm, silent, and weak condition, she wondered how long until she would die. She supposed it was nice that it wasn't a painful death. 4 hours and a half later, our young woman felt the effects of the drug leave her system. Sitting up, and looking around the room, she spent a few minutes trying to figure out what was going on. Were they scaring her? Were they trying to calm her before she died? At a loss for words, and finally at a loss of a solution to her questions, she laid back down and fell asleep.
Our young woman woke to the feel of fingers probing her neck, of voice murmuring, and of her thoughts buzzing. She tried to say something, but felt a warm hand press against her mouth, silencing her. Having just woken up, the thought to fight didn't occur to her until the hand covered her nose as well, and the other voices had gone silent, and held her down. Her eyes snapped open and she tried to fight, but her vision blurred and darkened and eventually, she was still.
~~~~~
It is the year 2008. Our young woman is now 19 years of age. She is huddled in the corner of a white cell, in white cotton scrubs. She is bare and clean, and the room has a bed and a table. Everything is white. Her knees to her chest, she rocks silently. Back when she was on the streets, if you got sick, you died. She had never gotten sick, and so she had never died. Since she wasn't near many of the children, she hadn't noticed that a couple of them did get sick, only slightly, and lived. She thought illness meant death, and that not being sick was normal. In the prison she had never been sick, but she had never seen a reason why she should have gotten sick. It wasn't until she was injected with something strong enough to give her immune system a challenge that she realized that being sick was normal, and never being sick, was not.
The door to her room hissed open, and she tucked into herself tighter. She heard the footsteps enter the room. As they drew nearer to her, and stopped, she felt the doctor probe her neck for a place to inject the needle. That side of her neck was covered in small dots. Just as the Doctor found a place without a dot, our young woman crawled forward, sliding into the opposite corner as the doctor. She could hear him tut at her, walking towards her again. He was telling her something about the drug, and asking her if she really want to fight for every injection. She continued to skirt away from him as he neared. On the fourth try, he grabbed the collar of her top and held her between his legs, carefully injecting the needle as her body bucked, trying to fight him. He pushed the top of the syringe, a pale purple substance flowing into her blood-stream. Our young woman cried out and collapsed to the ground in agony. Her back arched as a silent scream opened her mouth. Expressionlessly the doctor pulled a yellow notepad out of his pocket, along with a pen, and watched her writhe in pain, recording her reactions on his notepad. The reaction lasted over an hour, and only toward the end did it start to go away. When the reaction finished, the doctor replaced his things into his pocket and picked up the now exhausted, motionless girl and set her on the white bed before walking out of the room. Our young woman silently wept and curled into a ball, wanting only to die.
~~~~~
It is the year 2011. Having gotten out of the facility a year ago based solely on the fact that a new head had taken place over the experiments. This new one freed all who had been residents for over 2 years already. Hoping to find a better home, our young Russian girl, now 22 years old, has her bags packed boarding a small shuttle-craft. Looking out the small window, she loosened her seatbelt to lean farther, gazing at the miracles of space. The stars whipped past as they traveled at the speed of light. Suddenly the ship stopped, and the stars appeared stationary once again. In front of the ship, our young woman could just barely make out the planet she had come to live on, Gaia…
A small girl shivered in the cold streets of a Moscow winter in the year 1998. Crouched into an ally, she was doing what she could to keep warm. She had on a basic long, red skirt, a loose, long-sleeved shirt, and wool boots. All her clothes seemed to be wearing thin in places, and tears stains trailed down the dirt on her cheeks. She clutched a thin blanket around her shoulders. Her nose was red and running, and every now and then a sniffle could be heard, followed by her rubbing her nose against the blanket. She held the blanket tightly around her, trying to keep her face in it as well. As an abnormally strong gust of wind swept by, she crawled a few feet deeper into the ally. Her stomach was empty, and most of the other street urchins had found warmer places, the best she could find was here, in this ally. It wasn't the worst ally, as it was in between a laundry and a kitchen, but there were places much warmer. Wherever she went where there were other children, they kicked her out. She was small for her age of barely 9 years, and the other children had no use nor want for her. It was cruel. It was survival for them. For her, it was certain death. She begged what food and money she could, but in the harsh, cold, winter months, no one liked to be outside, so the people willing to help feed a small starving girl were few and far between. She pulled her knees to her chest, and waited for a kind passerby.
~~~~~
This small girl is now older. It is the year 2004, and this small girl is now a young woman. At the tender age of 15, this small girl is stronger, and able to fend for herself more. The survival that was once a great challenge is now second nature. It's summer time, and she wears a set of cut off denim jeans and a thin t-shirt. She runs through the streets, laughing with a loaf of bread in her hand, the baker angrily chasing after her, yelling as he goes. She whips through the streets and alleys of Moscow, avoiding cars as she goes along. As she runs, she heard a screech, a honk, and the sound of something large being hit by something going along very fast. Turning around, this young, hungry child has inadvertently caused the death of this baker. She is known for her crime, but not for murder. Witnesses would later say that the way she was running through the cars and traffic, it mustn't have been an accident. The baker's family and friends would want her death, and the people of Moscow support them. They only want a nuisance gone.
Having the police out for her, the other street urchins avoid her. She has no friends to turn to. Being seen on the street will have her fellow people detain her for the police. Alone, and hungry, with nowhere to go, this young 15 year old walks herself to the police, and turns herself in.
~~~~~
It's the year 2007. This young woman is now 18 years of age. She is a legal adult, and now punishable for her actions three years ago. They'd waited these three years to hold her accountable for something she'd done as a child. In her cell, she received her dinner on the night she knew would be her last. The dinner was the usual, but she tried to relish it, make it last. It was half an hour later when she began feeling the effects of C-2, A drug that was used in killing humans without leaving a trace.
She felt her body weakening and knew that it'd been her dinner. It took half an hour before the full effects of the drug kicked in. She lay on her bed, wanting to sleep. She found that impossible though. Spending the next few hours in calm, silent, and weak condition, she wondered how long until she would die. She supposed it was nice that it wasn't a painful death. 4 hours and a half later, our young woman felt the effects of the drug leave her system. Sitting up, and looking around the room, she spent a few minutes trying to figure out what was going on. Were they scaring her? Were they trying to calm her before she died? At a loss for words, and finally at a loss of a solution to her questions, she laid back down and fell asleep.
Our young woman woke to the feel of fingers probing her neck, of voice murmuring, and of her thoughts buzzing. She tried to say something, but felt a warm hand press against her mouth, silencing her. Having just woken up, the thought to fight didn't occur to her until the hand covered her nose as well, and the other voices had gone silent, and held her down. Her eyes snapped open and she tried to fight, but her vision blurred and darkened and eventually, she was still.
~~~~~
It is the year 2008. Our young woman is now 19 years of age. She is huddled in the corner of a white cell, in white cotton scrubs. She is bare and clean, and the room has a bed and a table. Everything is white. Her knees to her chest, she rocks silently. Back when she was on the streets, if you got sick, you died. She had never gotten sick, and so she had never died. Since she wasn't near many of the children, she hadn't noticed that a couple of them did get sick, only slightly, and lived. She thought illness meant death, and that not being sick was normal. In the prison she had never been sick, but she had never seen a reason why she should have gotten sick. It wasn't until she was injected with something strong enough to give her immune system a challenge that she realized that being sick was normal, and never being sick, was not.
The door to her room hissed open, and she tucked into herself tighter. She heard the footsteps enter the room. As they drew nearer to her, and stopped, she felt the doctor probe her neck for a place to inject the needle. That side of her neck was covered in small dots. Just as the Doctor found a place without a dot, our young woman crawled forward, sliding into the opposite corner as the doctor. She could hear him tut at her, walking towards her again. He was telling her something about the drug, and asking her if she really want to fight for every injection. She continued to skirt away from him as he neared. On the fourth try, he grabbed the collar of her top and held her between his legs, carefully injecting the needle as her body bucked, trying to fight him. He pushed the top of the syringe, a pale purple substance flowing into her blood-stream. Our young woman cried out and collapsed to the ground in agony. Her back arched as a silent scream opened her mouth. Expressionlessly the doctor pulled a yellow notepad out of his pocket, along with a pen, and watched her writhe in pain, recording her reactions on his notepad. The reaction lasted over an hour, and only toward the end did it start to go away. When the reaction finished, the doctor replaced his things into his pocket and picked up the now exhausted, motionless girl and set her on the white bed before walking out of the room. Our young woman silently wept and curled into a ball, wanting only to die.
~~~~~
It is the year 2011. Having gotten out of the facility a year ago based solely on the fact that a new head had taken place over the experiments. This new one freed all who had been residents for over 2 years already. Hoping to find a better home, our young Russian girl, now 22 years old, has her bags packed boarding a small shuttle-craft. Looking out the small window, she loosened her seatbelt to lean farther, gazing at the miracles of space. The stars whipped past as they traveled at the speed of light. Suddenly the ship stopped, and the stars appeared stationary once again. In front of the ship, our young woman could just barely make out the planet she had come to live on, Gaia…
Comments
View All Comments