When the house on Abrykosova Street collapsed as a result of a missile explosion nearby, five people were trapped under the rubble: psychotherapist Veronika Baida, her two-year-old son Orest, and her three teenage daughters – Yeva, Zoriana, and Alisa. 

A few hours earlier, Veronika had finished painting the bathroom, sent her husband, who serves in the military, a photo of the renovated interior, and gone to bed with a feeling of complete order that had become rare during the war. At two o’clock in the morning, the house that the family had spent more than ten years furnishing and improving with their own hands was destroyed.  

Fragments of the roof were hanging just 15 centimetres from Veronika’s face after she managed to shield her son with her body. Her three daughters were in the neighbouring room. The youngest, Alisa, was almost unharmed and managed to get out through a window. The eldest, Yeva, despite her own injuries, pulled Zoriana, who had been pinned under furniture, free, found warm clothes for everyone, and took charge of the evacuation. Meanwhile, their mother and the youngest child, Orest, were waiting for rescuers.

Veronika, Yeva, and Zoriana decided to leave their testimony for the Museum of Civilian Voices not only as a record of their own story. They are convinced: the more such stories are documented, the fewer chances there will be for anyone to one day claim that it never happened. For them, this is a way to preserve the truth about the war.