It was getting more dangerous to stay in the city. In the evenings, the windows were rattling from the explosions during the attacks and the walls were shaking. My neighbours and I gathered together and prayed.
There is a shelter in our house, but we were too scared to run there. We were afraid that if a shell hit the house, it would fold up like a house of cards, and the shelter would then turn into a mass grave. There was no electricity in the house for five days, so the electric stoves that we had were of no use for us. We gathered with neighbours and cooked everything we had over a campfire.
The next attack was quite dreadful. I went out into the corridor, so that the children wouldn't hear me saying final goodbyes to my brothers on the off chance and asking them not to leave our old parents. They stormed at me to take the children and leave for Zaporizhzhia. Запоріжжя.
The youngest son, who was not four at that time, was running around the room and shouting, "Mother, tell them to stop shooting - they wiil kill you, and I will cry!"
I managed to buy train tickets in the morning. We left. The first year was very difficult - I was depressed. What was the point for my husband and I to have work so hard all these years? Everything we had and earned was lost for good - it was thrown to the wolves.
It was scary to start everything not even from scratch but at a loss. But I had to take care of the children. I started to get going, forced myself to get up in the morning and do something. My husband brought my sewing machines, and started taking the first orders... Never mind, we are strong, and we will make it!
When quoting a story, a reference to the source – the Museum of Civilian Voices of the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation – is mandatory, as follows:
The Museum of Civilian Voices of the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation https://civilvoicesmuseum.org/