No Safe Haven
West Kursk, Russia - Mid afternoon, summer, 2013
Kursk, Russia, near the border of Ukraine, was where Mira lived. It was summer, and she had just finished ‘nachalnaya shkola’, which was ‘primary/elementary school’ in Russia. It’s now the summer holidays, which in Russia, began in June and school resumed at some time in August.
Most kids went home excited, either because school ended, they're moving to a new school, or they're going to spend time with their friends. Most kids were preparing to enjoy and be happy throughout the summer holidays. Mira though, was not happy, she couldn't be. At ten years old, this would be the tenth summer she had to yet again spend fighting to survive inside her abusive household.
Mira's home situation was worse than a prison. School wasn't any better, but she was at least able to escape what school threw at her to a certain extent. But at home, there was no escape, other than spending as much time as she could outside it.
Mira was forced to embark on her way back home. She would rather deal with school than home. She was walking on a cracked uneven path, which was next to a road that had potholes everywhere to her left, and a long line of tall wide bushes to her right. While walking home, she tripped on a stone. “NO- oh…”
Each trip and slip petrified Mira. She couldn't help almost believing each time, whether it was her dad knocking her off her feet with a single kick, or students trying to make her trip. She looked left and right, just to be safe, then continued to walk. It was also raining, heavily, which was unusual for Russian summer. She was already scared of her parents yelling at her for not wearing a coat, even though the morning was very hot and she had no way of knowing. The rain fell on Mira's head, either to be absorbed by her hair or roll down her school blazer and bounce off her skirt.
Mira continued to look left and right. She felt a tingle inside of her. That tingle was the existential dread that awaited her when she got back home. She could already hear the screaming and insults from her mother, as well as the kicks and punches from her father. She was already trying to hide herself inside of her school blazer.
Mira looked behind her as she heard a speeding red car coming up close. It zoomed past with great sound, making Mira tense up and freeze. She then continued to walk, until a second car, a blue car, came passing by, driving close to the path Mira was walking on. The wheel of the car splashed the rainwater puddle by the path’s cracked curb, sending it up and over onto the path, going all over Mira, drenching her further.
Mira thought about stepping onto the road as a car drove nearby a few times. But every time she thought of stepping onto the road, she quickly stepped back from it. It wasn't death from getting hit that deterred her though, but the potential of surviving getting hit. She would've already done so if it guaranteed to save her from the worst. Her bullies knew no bounds and did what they wanted, her teachers and her school were complicit by not taking action, and worst of all, the place where people are meant to feel safest isn't safe, her home.
“Ow-” Mira was looking all around her so much, she wasn't looking forward, and walked straight into a lampost. “Agh…” She stumbled back and forth, almost falling over. “No!” She was waving and flapping her hands in front of her, stepping away from the lampost. Walking into the lampost had hurt, it may as well have been her father.
Mira then felt something grab her right wrist. She flinched and saw a tanned hand, twice as big as her own hands. She pulled, but the hand wouldn't let go. Whoever those hands belonged to, they yanked Mira off her two feet and into the bush, dead leaves and twigs sticking to her clothes.
Mira’s cries were swiftly silenced by a second hand forcibly covering her mouth with a crushing grip. That other hand belonged to the same man, who was among the foulest of men. He had very tanned skin, wore a black puffer coat and joggers that were worn. She couldn't see his face properly.
Mira managed to open her mouth and without hesitation, chomped down on the man's fingers of his right hand hard, harder than grown adults would bite beef. The man screamed as Mira drew blood, her tears mixing with the man's blood, her squealing and the man’s screams clashing in the air. Mira was almost choking on her saliva and tears as well as the man’s blood, but she couldn't let go.
The man grabbed Mira by the throat to push her off, but she wouldn't let go, his hand still in the grip of her jaws. Both Mira and the man rolled together on the ground very violently, both getting muddy very quickly, dirt as well as leaves and twigs getting stuck in their hair and putting holes in their clothes, and the bushes being aggressively shaken. Mira swung her hands up and pressed against where she thought his eyes were. She couldn't focus on where his eyes actually were, she was focusing on trying to survive. The man did everything to get her to let go, bashing her head against the ground multiple times, but Mira's teeth sank deeper.
Then the man’s screaming became more like groaning, covering and rubbing his eyes with his hands, getting his own blood over his face, as well as bits of dirt. Mira did manage to get his eyes, and she almost got up, but then fell down again, face first. The man had grabbed her right ankle, hard.
Mira screamed and fought to get up again, kicking and punching which neither did anything. Then both her wrists were grabbed by the man’s other hand, the one with the fingers Mira had sunk her teeth deep into, getting his blood on her wrists. His knee pinned against Mira’s back had her stuck. Her screams were reduced to sobs, the air was taken out of her lungs, she could literally scream no more.
The man then flipped Mira onto her back. “Stupid.” He pressed his body against hers. “This could’ve already been over. But now I'll make it hurt, and it'll hurt much worse than what you did to my hand.” With his unbitten hand, pulled her skirt down. Mira then froze and stopped fighting, whimpering, she couldn't fight him off. Signals in her brain were saying to continue fighting, but she didn't continue fighting. She was frozen in complete fear, petrified of what this vile excuse of a demonically-depraved man was going to do.
Late at night...
Mira’s mother was smoking cannabis out in the back garden. She was in her late thirties, but she looked a lot older, as she was a very heavy smoker. Meanwhile, Mira’s overweight father was in the small living room, sitting on a torn and worn sofa, which was a really old sofa from east Germany that was made before the fall of the Berlin Wall. Her dad was significantly older, being in his late forties. The living room only had white-painted walls which was mouldy and decaying, a door to the hallway, a door to the kitchen, a sofa, a cracked TV that sat on a table, and an old Soviet-era radio next to the TV, to the right of it.
The father was reading a newspaper about what was going on in Ukraine. “There's no such thing as Ukraine to begin with. Only Russia.” The father grumbled. “Western propaganda has poisoned this country.” He threw the newspaper into the fireplace perfectly, which was to the left and behind the TV. The paper was consumed by flames, which he watched. It was the most entertaining thing left to do in life for him.
The father heard the backdoor creaking. But then he heard even more creaking, accompanied by quiet sobs. He immediately got up and headed to the front door, and the sobs became louder, inevitably becoming shrieks of fear. “NO- I- I… I c- can ex- explain-”
What the father saw made his blood boil, Mira, absolutely petrified. Her soaked hair was tangled with itself as well as twigs and leaves. Her completely drenched blazer and skirt was completely wrecked and scuffed. There was also blood still running down her legs.
“Look at the fucking state of you, you-”
“NO- p- please d- d- dad, I… I- I w- w- w- was r-”
“Do NOT interrupt me!” Her father smacked Mira down to the ground with one drunken swipe of his hand. She didn't scream, because any energy she did have to scream, was gone. Any willpower she had if she even had any to begin with, was definitely gone. She was not only petrified, but also felt broken, shattered by what took place.
“And you should know better to use proper Russian accent. Not the accent of traitors trying to destroy Russia.” Her father added. “Now sort yourself out. You're lucky I'm too tired to care too much. Your school clothes better not have any damage though. We're selling them.”
Mira pushed herself off the floor with her hands. She was somewhat relieved, because her father did worse before, way worse. She limped her way up the creaky wooden stairs, quietly sobbing. No matter how many times she heard her father’s views of Ukraine, it still cut deep wounds. She was half Ukrainian, which she inherited from her mother. But her father denied Ukraine existed at all, and to make it worse, her mother believed so too, despite herself originally being from Pripyat. She wasn't even allowed one half of herself.
Mira had finished showering herself. It would've been a very difficult wash as there was only cold water available. But the brutally freezing water helped numb the pain she was in, especially in the area she was violently violated, so the water did help. But the water could not wash away her memory that was now scarred deep into her mind. She constantly looked left and right, petrified that a hand would grab her. She was still crying and shaking, overthinking, unable to accept what happened. She could not unsee the ordeal, no matter how much she tried to unsee it.
Very quietly, Mira stepped out of the shower, limping. The toilet was to her right and the door was to her left. She continued tiptoeing with a limp, looking left and right. Each limp reminded her of the violation, making her jolt. Each step made her jolt terribly.
Mira eventually got to the rack, which had a towel. She grabbed the towel and wrapped it around herself. She was still shaking, but it was now more that she was cold. She then unlocked and opened the bathroom door, and limped forward, heading for her bedroom.
On the way, she froze as she heard footsteps coming up the stairs to her left. She started slowly stepping backwards, which became faster as the steps sounded louder, closer. She instinctively hid her face in the towel, until she saw it was her mother, the lesser of two evils.
“Your clothes are good. But go to your room, now. You know better not to be late coming back home, so you're going hungry.” Her mother crossed her arms.
“I- I w- w- was… r- r…” Mira broke into tears, the word terrified her. She couldn't accept that it happened to her.
“Raped?” Her mother said with utmost insensitivity. Mira flinched and hid her face in the towel, and nodded, her crying getting more intense. The sound of her cries were partially stifled by the towel.
“You'll get over it. It's a normal occurrence.” Her mother dismissed the severity of what happened to her own daughter, and started walking back downstairs. “It happened to an old friend when they were younger too and they weren't crying. So grow up and stop thinking about it, and you'll feel better. Don't show weakness.” Her mother outright dismissed the pain and ordeal her own daughter went through.
“I’m s- sc- scar-”
“It's your own fault getting in that situation.” Her mother immediately cut her words off and turned around on the stairs, again facing Mira.
“I- I d- didn't even s- see who h- he w- was until h- he grabbed- I- I didn't kno-”
“Maybe look where you're going and you won't find yourself in that situation again.” Her mother interrupted. “Now I'm going downstairs, so you go get dressed ready for bed.”
Mira again froze out of absolute fear. She trembled immensely while trying to move. She was too terrified to move her eyes. Even using the natural function of breathing felt very difficult. The stillness and almost soundless upstairs made room for replays of the rape in her head, over and over. All the screams and pain in her mind as that moment replayed constantly, like a violently unstoppable, endless flood.
Mira fought her paralysis-like stasis state, and then sprinted straight for her bedroom, dropping the towel in the process. Once inside her room, in a panic she grabbed her set of three drawers, yanking the drawer with her pyjamas, the bottom drawer, and hurried to get something on. Once in pyjamas, she slammed her bedroom door shut, and put her back against it.
Mira slid down until she was sitting on the floor, only having her legs to hug. She leaned forward and hugged her legs, they were better than having nothing to hug at all. Her forehead touched her knees, and there she continued sobbing profusely, tears running down her face, hitting her hair or her pyjamas. She was staying against the door, she had no plans to sleep in her bed that was to her right. She couldn't sleep, she knew what nightmares were.
Mira quickly forced herself to be quiet, she was terrified of her parents complaining about her noise. But down below, a very sudden sharp pain arose, making her screech and curl in agony, tears now soaking into the rotting carpet and floorboards. She pulled at her hair whilst forcefully covering her ears until it hurt. However that didn't stop the also very sudden replays of the rape. Each moment they were replayed felt like it was happening all over again, and they wouldn't stop.
Mira desperately bashed the back of her head against the door, but that only triggered a flashback of her rapist bashing her head against the ground. She curled into a ball, pulling her arms out of her pyjama sleeves and hid her whole head under the collar, hiding her head and arms within her pyjama jumper. It was the only thing that felt remotely ‘safe’ to do, but even then, that didn't guarantee safety from tomorrow.
Eventually, the flashbacks did stop. To Mira’s very temporary reprieve and relief, her parents were already loudly snoring. They were heavy sleepers, and they wouldn't have heard her. There was a temporary moment of quietness, aside from her sobbing, echoing and shaking the silent room. Mira forced herself to not fall asleep. The nightmares of being bullied or abused by her parents were mentally damaging enough.
Mira didn't want to have a nightmare of today's events and repeat them in her head all over again. Tomorrow was going to be enough of a psychological battlefield as it was. She felt that trading her health and sleep schedule for some form of coping mechanism, no matter how unhealthy or destructive, was a fair price to pay. She had no one or place to go for any comfort.
There really was no safe haven to go to, and apparently according to her mother, it was ‘her fault’. Mira was horrifically hurt, terribly traumatised, and she didn't know why her mother say it was still ‘her fault’. She truly didn't know how it was, but that toxic statement festered in her mind, and it would continue to fester and erode at her already horribly fractured psyche.
