My winter mornings usually began lazily watching YouTube while enjoying a bowl of hot oatmeal for breakfast. Then, with a teacup warming my hands, I would peer out the window at the apartment buildings on the distant horizon, making plans for the day.

I had spent my entire life in Obolon, a pleasant neighborhood in Kyiv, on the sixth floor of a large Soviet-built condominium. It stands near the Dnipro River, which flows through the entire city. Since childhood, I always had the company of my extensive family of artists, and for the past few years, I lived with my mother, Liuba, Uncle Andrey, and our cat, Kasia.

By the age of 29, my life had taken shape. I was building a career in art, supported by my family, and cherishing love in a relationship with my partner. It was an ordinary yet fulfilling life.

On February 24, 2022, I was about to start a new book illustration project for a Chinese company. However, that morning took an unexpected turn.

I woke up to the incessant ringing of phones and my mom’s excited voice in the adjacent room. Since I had slept soundly, I had missed the first sirens in Kyiv and the phone calls from my father and boyfriend Dima.

I checked my WhatsApp and couldn’t believe what I saw.

My aunt Lena had written: “Stesha^[1], what’s going on? Are you at home? The news said that all of Ukraine is being bombed!”

My initial thought was, What?! It must be a mistake! The news always exaggerates and gets things wrong.

I turned on the news and couldn’t believe my eyes. The TV screen showed explosions and columns of smoke in various parts of Ukraine. The news presenters and correspondents were speaking urgently, but I couldn’t comprehend the full meaning of their words. I stopped perceiving my surroundings; all my attention was focused on the running line at the bottom of the screen, with the text:

“Russia has started a full-scale war in Ukraine. Missile attacks have targeted numerous Ukrainian cities. Military and critical infrastructure facilities have been hit. President Volodymyr Zelensky has signed a decree imposing martial law throughout Ukraine.”

A phone call snapped me out of my numbness. It was my aunt Lena.

“Lena! I… I’m shocked… I can’t believe what’s happening,” I answered, my voice trembling.

“Yes, Leon and I couldn’t believe it either when we saw the news,” she replied.

“People in Kyiv are panicking… everyone is queuing up at ATMs, supermarkets, and getting stuck in traffic jams to leave the city. But in Obolon, things seem relatively calm.”

“Stesha, this is war! Even if things appear calm now, it’s not safe to stay in Kyiv! Call Aunt Vera. Find out how things are in the Vinnytsia region.”

“Okay, I’ll ask. But I’ll also keep monitoring the situation. If things are really serious, then I’ll figure out what to do next.”

“Don’t take too long. We’re worried about all of you!” Lena replied with concern.

Like me, Lena had spent most of her life in our family’s apartment in Kyiv. Despite her being my aunt, I had always seen her as an older sister. When she got married to Leon and left Ukraine for British Columbia, I deeply felt her absence.

I could sense her fear and concern for me, her sister Liuba, and her brother Andrey (my mother and uncle). Nevertheless, after talking with Lena, I clung to the hope that things weren’t as bad as they seemed. After all, what was being shown on the news was happening somewhere far away… not here and not to me.

I was watching the news in my mother’s room when I heard an explosion. The sound was loud like a thunderclap, but outside the window the sky was clear. Soon after, another explosion followed, and then more. These blasts seemed really close, echoing from behind the neighboring buildings.

That moment shattered any remaining positive thoughts in my head. A shiver ran through my body, and a primal fear for my life consumed me.

I hurried into the kitchen and shouted to my mom and Andrey, “I heard explosions outside the window! They were near us!”

“Yes, we heard them too,” Andrey replied, looking worried and confused.

“We must go to the stores immediately to stock up,” Mom suggested.

“The news showed huge queues everywhere. It’s not going to be easy.” I tried to hide my panic, but it slid into my voice anyway.

Meanwhile, the news showed President Zelensky’s speech. He spoke about the dire situation in the southern part of the country and the Russian intention to capture Kyiv, eliminate the entire top Ukrainian government, and establish their own “puppet” government. Despite this, the president stated that he wouldn’t leave Kyiv and would defend Ukraine to the last. His words provided me with some comfort.

At noon, my mother, Andrey, and I went our separate ways to buy essential supplies like food, water, and medicine.

When I stepped out onto the street, the first thing that caught my eye was widespread panic: people running all directions with their suitcases, while cars disappeared from the yards and parking lots. The first siren signal on the street caught me unexpectedly while I was buying water at a kiosk. Neither I nor the seller knew what to do. Where should we run?

Despite the sirens and the chaos, I managed to visit the supermarkets in my area to stock up on food. However, my credit card didn’t work, so I bought food with all the cash I found in the bottom of my bag.

While returning home with the food packages, I watched people rushing around with suitcases. A terrible thought emerged in my head, Everyone is leaving the sinking ship, but I am staying. And maybe soon, I will drown with it.

When I got home, I decided to talk about my fears with Mom. “There is panic on the street; everyone is leaving the city… maybe we should too?”

Despite being overwhelmed by fear, my mother held a different perspective on leaving the city. “And where are we supposed to go? Who will we leave the apartment to?”

“At least we can go to central Ukraine to Aunt Vera… and right now, I don’t care much about the apartment,” I replied sharply.

“I don’t want to leave home. I feel much calmer when I am surrounded by the walls of my own home.” She said it so determinedly that I realized persuading her at that moment was impossible.

After such an ambiguous conversation with Mom, I went to my room, immersed in thoughts. Suddenly my cell phone started ringing. Familiar dark-brown eyes on the screen lifted my spirits. It was my boyfriend Dima. I hoped we could talk without any interruption.

“How are you? What’s going on in Obolon?” Dima asked, sounding worried.

“Oh, Dima… I just got back from grocery shopping. Many shelves in stores are empty… people are buying everything in a panic. In Obolon, we hear explosions somewhere close to us, and the sirens are constantly sounding… and how are you? What should we do?”

“Let’s not panic, Stesh,” he said, trying to calm me down first. “There’s chaos in my neighborhood too: sirens, explosions, and everyone’s scared. I’m still figuring out what we should do next,” he said.

Dima always knew what to do next. This confusion was unlike him and it fueled my panic.

“How can we see each other now?” I asked.

“I’ve been thinking about it. Public transportation isn’t running, it’s almost impossible to order a taxi, and it seems dangerous to travel on the main roads now,” he explained. “We can only wait.”

“It’s true. I can’t believe this is happening…just yesterday was a normal day.” I remembered with sorrow.

“I know… For me, what is happening is absolute wildness!” I felt all the indignation and frustration in his voice.

Unfortunately, we lived in different parts of Kyiv, on opposite sides of the Dnipro River. To be together, one of us would have to travel through the dangerous streets of the city to reach the other side. At that time, neither of us considered it wise to take that risk. It was the first time we had encountered an event of such magnitude. Our first reactions to the war were different. Mine was fear, and his was outrage. But at the same time, it was a moment that made us realize how important we are to each other.

***

At 10:00 pm, a curfew started in Kyiv, which was supposed to last until 7:00 in the morning.

Before going to bed, I made a small rearrangement in the room, attempting to distract myself. I moved the closet to block the windows, and pushed the bed into the farthest corner of the room, away from the windows.

Overall, our apartment had transformed by the end of the day. Mom and I sealed all the windows with tape, and Andrey helped to move some furniture. With the onset of darkness, we drew the curtains tightly and didn’t turn on the lights. But despite all these precautions, I was still feeling unsafe.

In the evening, air raid signals became more frequent, and the explosions sounded more and more intense. The president’s office provided news updates on the air every few hours. The newly revealed information was alarming and sobering. It was reported that battles were happening in the northwest of Kyiv area, specifically at Hostomel airport and approaching Vorzel and Bucha towns. The explosions I heard were coming from the battles taking place very close to my neighborhood.

Knowing this, I postponed the moment when I had to go to bed. Falling asleep was very scary. In the silence of the night, the explosions sounded even louder, and the glass in the windows vibrated after each blast. I still couldn’t accept the new reality. Just yesterday, everything was fine, and I had plans for the week and the near future. In just one day, our peaceful life had disappeared. How is this possible?!

With these thoughts and chills in my body, I suffered until 7 in the morning. I could no longer bear my panic and fear, so as soon as I got out of bed, I knocked on my mother’s door.

To hold back my tears, I shared my feelings briefly. “Mama, I’m so scared! I can’t sleep, and I don’t want to eat. All I want is to feel safe again…”

“Oh my… I feel bad too, but what can we do?” she answered, sounding confused.

“Let’s call Aunt Vera and find out how she and her family are doing in the Vinnytsia region,” I replied hopefully. “It should be safer there than in Kyiv.”

After a few minutes, Mom dialed her cousin Vera.

“Hi, Vera. How are you? How are things going in your region?”

“Hi, Liuba. It’s war here too, like everywhere else in Ukraine. It’s restless,” she said with deep sadness. “Today at 5:00 am, we went out onto the porch and saw a rocket flying overhead towards Kalinovka or Vinnytsia. A rocket, Liuba!” Aunt Vera’s usually cheerful voice sounded very alarmed this time.

“Oh Lord… Vera, you live in such a quiet place, in a small village. I was sure that you were away from the battles!” Mom said.

“There are no safe places in Ukraine now,” Aunt Vera said.

I snatched the phone from my mom.

“Aunt Vera, I want to come to your place!”

“Oh, Stefania… the situation is so serious…” she paused. “Now things are different from that time when you came to our home on holidays.”

I heard doubts in her voice about my desire to come.

“Yes, I clearly understand the situation! But I can no longer stay in Kyiv… hearing all these sirens and the sound of bombing is simply unbearable!” I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore and started sobbing. “At least it’s quieter in your region, and your house has a basement…”

The desperation with which I spoke convinced her, and she answered, “Okay, try to get here with Liuba.”

“Mom doesn’t want to go,” I replied.

Aunt Vera objected sharply. “Come only together.”

“Aunt Vera! Please!”

I saw salvation in her cozy countryside house, 200 km from Kyiv. After a sleepless night, hearing the detonations happening somewhere close to Kyiv, I no longer wanted to stay.

“Okay. Let me talk to Liuba,” she replied, surprised by my persistence.

After talking with Mom and agreeing on something, Aunt Vera said that trains were still going in their direction, and she was waiting for me.

I ran to my room to pack my things in a rush. My thoughts were confused, and it was difficult to determine what was the most important thing to take. Nevertheless, I packed a small carry-on suitcase and a backpack.

When I was almost ready, my mother came into the room. She could hardly hold back her tears. She said that if the situation got worse, then she and Andrey would also come. With tears in our eyes, we hugged goodbye, and I left home around 10:00 am. I had a plan: first, use the subway to get to the Kyiv railway station; second, take a train towards the town of Kozyatyn; and finally, find a taxi to Sadove village, where Aunt Vera lives with her family. The plan seemed reliable, so without a shadow of a doubt, I moved to implement it.

As I approached the park where the nearest subway station, Minska, was located, I began to sense that something was wrong. The park was empty, except for a woman with a tear-stained face dragging her suitcase, who ran away from the park. It alarmed me, but I didn’t stop. I had no other choice but to take the subway to get to the railway station. As I walked through the main road of the park, I noticed groups of Ukrainian soldiers cordoning off the area and preparing for something. However, they didn’t stop me or a few others with suitcases.

Passing close to an army officer I overheard him saying on the radio, “Snipers, go on the roof, get prepared.”

The snipers?” I thought. “What is going on here?!

I quickened my pace and headed down into the underground passage leading to the Minska station. However, a crowd of people and Ukrainian soldiers blocked the entrance to the subway, not allowing anyone in. People were angry, screaming, and crying, but the soldiers stood firm, ordering everyone to leave the area.

A sense of indignation and fear washed over me. The thought crossed my mind, Can I no longer go wherever I want? This realization outraged me so much that I decided not to give up and go to the next Obolon subway station.

I left the underpass and quickly walked along an unusually deserted Obolonsky Avenue. The atmosphere was ominous, with no cars on the roads, and I only encountered a few people rushing somewhere with suitcases. As I approached the Dream Town shopping center, I suddenly heard a hum. Turning around, I couldn’t believe my eyes… I saw a Russian tank heading towards Dream Town from the adjoining street to the avenue! I stood frozen, my eyes locked onto the massive metal machine with its intimidating barrel. Thank God, it disappeared behind the shopping center within half a minute.

After witnessing that, my steps turned into a run and my heart was pounding. I had only a few hundred meters left to reach the cherished Obolon station! Then I heard the roar of an explosion very close by, in the Obolon subway area. I stopped to catch my breath, realizing what I didn’t want to admit before – I wouldn’t be able to get to the railway station today.

I immediately turned off the avenue into a small street among condominium buildings. The streets between the buildings were absolutely deserted. Suddenly, I came across a strange-looking man dressed in black. I couldn’t identify whether he was from Obolon Territorial Defense Forces ^[2] or someone else. Hastily, I passed him quickly, just in case.

Unexpectedly, I heard a metal noise next to me and I gasped and glanced behind me.

The man in black clothing had thrown an empty can on the asphalt to scare me. He watched my reaction with a complacent smirk on his face.

My fear escalated as I realized that he might be a Russian saboteur. I started running towards home as fast as I could. Along the way, I encountered several small groups of people in black clothes which reinforced my suspicions that the Russians might have already infiltrated the city.

When I finally reached the apartment, Andrey and Mom looked surprised.

“What happened? Why did you come back?” asked Andrey.

“The entrance to the subway is blocked; there are soldiers at the Minska station,” I answered, still trying to catch my breath.

“Oh, my God! Stesha, it’s better not to go anywhere! It’s too dangerous now,” Mom said with worry.

Not in the mood to continue the conversation, I said, “Yes, I already got that.”

We turned on the TV to the news channel, and the news was about our Obolon district! The news anchor’s voice sounded firm but alarmed:

“Russian troops want to enter Kyiv. They are trying to land in the Minska area. The Ministry of Defense reported that an enemy sabotage group is operating in the Obolon district in Kyiv. We ask citizens to report the movement of the enemy’s equipment. Be careful! Don’t leave your home!”

Afterwards, the news channel showed a video of a Russian tank driving on Obolonsky Avenue, running over a car with a person inside at full speed. An elderly man in the car was injured but survived. I was in shock and slowly began to realize how close I was to danger when I had encountered this Russian tank earlier that morning.

I called Aunt Vera to tell her about these events in Obolon and that I felt trapped. My cousin Nastya (Vera’s daughter) was still trying to find a way out of this situation. She advised me to look for Bla Bla Car (a service that helps find a fellow traveler in a car) to see if someone was going in the direction of Vinnytsia. But there were no active announcements. Besides, I had started to realize that a 200 km trip through a war-torn country could be deadly.

My phone kept ringing incessantly.

My dad was extremely concerned about my attempts to escape from Kyiv. My “tato” (which means ‘dad’ in Ukrainian) Anatoly lived in Vyshhorod, a town near Kyiv, with his second wife Olha.

“Hi, finally, I reach you! Liuba told me that your attempt to leave the city was unsuccessful,” Tato said with concern. “It’s better not to risk it and stay at home!”

“Hi, Tato. Well, yes… the situation in our district is dangerous now. And not a single subway station in Obolon is working,” I replied, frustrated.

“I heard that soon the subway will be stopped completely,” he said seriously.

“In that case, all people will be trapped in their districts! How do I get to the railway station then?”

“The situation is changing very rapidly every hour. I think the opportunity will appear,” he tried to comfort me. “But Stesha, we have to think of a clear plan if you are going to go somewhere!”

“Okay…we will,” I agreed. “How are you in Vyshgorod? The news showed that Russians want to destroy the dam on the Kyiv Sea, is it true?”

“Yes, we heard explosions somewhere in that area. But I don’t think they will succeed.”

“You are very optimistic.”

“Yes. I believe in our armed forces,” Tato replied proudly.

“I would like to have your confidence,” I said.

As Dad said, soon the subway in Kyiv stopped. The whole city seemed to freeze in anticipation of something bad.

***

As the evening grew darker, explosions increased in frequency and sirens turned on every two hours. I knew I needed to find a bomb shelter. Although the subway stations in the Obolon district seemed like a good option, I didn’t want to go there again.

Instead, I considered the basement of the school situated just across from my building. During the beginning of the war, authorities had designated it as a shelter for residents living nearby.

The curfew was set to begin at 10:00 pm, so around 9:00 pm, Mom, Andrey, and I went to the school. I made sure to dress in my warmest clothes since the basement was not heated at all.

At the entrance to the basement, a man from the Territorial Defence Forces helped people go inside. As we descended the stairs, we found ourselves in a long, narrow corridor with 7 storage rooms on the right side. The corridor led to a large gym with mats covering the floor, meant for martial arts competitions. The gym was now filled with various people seeking safety.

After looking around, we managed to find a space in one of the dusty storage rooms, which was full of old desks and chairs. We were fortunate to be among the first to enter the room as people kept arriving and there were fewer and fewer empty spots remaining. We moved some desks in one corner, put mats on the floor, and laid down.

Mom and Andrey tried to fall asleep while I explored the room, trying to distract myself from the unsettling thoughts. The dim light revealed the room’s shabby walls covered with Soviet era posters and a pile of broken school furniture. It was so cold and damp that I could see our breath instantly turning into steam. I wasn’t ready for such harsh conditions, and a sense of pity overwhelmed me.

How did this happen? Why are we here, lying on the floor like homeless people, instead of in our warm beds? I questioned myself. Can’t I no longer live my normal life?

These thoughts kept recurring in my mind, leading me to realize the value of what I had always taken for granted – a comfortable life and a place in society.

Despite the negative feelings, being in the basement also provided a sense of safety. The underground space muffled the loud sounds of explosions and sirens, and the presence of other people gave me some comfort. Eventually, I managed to fall asleep for six hours, a significant achievement considering the anxiety I felt.

When I woke up early in the morning, I felt cold and hungry, but we had to wait until the end of the curfew at 7:00 am to return home.

“How are you? Did you manage to sleep?” I asked my mom when I noticed she had opened her eyes.

“A little. But it’s hard to relax here. There’s dust everywhere, and I even spotted a huge cockroach over there!” She pointed to a spot on the wall near an old poster.

“Yes, Mom, it’s tough for me too. But we’re lucky to have slept on mats, unlike others who had to rest on the cold floor or sit on chairs.”

“Maybe. Let’s pack up slowly and head home,” she suggested.

At home, I forced myself to eat some oatmeal while keeping an eye on the news. In the first days of the war, I watched the news extensively to stay informed about what was happening in the country.

Deep inside, I held onto hope that the news presenter would announce a peace treaty, ending the war. But instead, we heard the devastating news that a Russian rocket had struck a condominium building in Kyiv early in the morning.

“They are attacking residential areas!” I exclaimed.

“Why are they doing this?” Mom asked.

Andrey explained, “They want to terrorize the civilian population and spread panic. They have succeeded to some extent… Now it’s really scary to stay at home.”

“Listen! Klitschko ^[3] is giving a speech now!” I interrupted their conversation.

“Friends! Dear Kyiv residents! The night was difficult. But there are no Russian troops in the capital. The enemy tried to break into the city, particularly from the side of Gostomel and Zhytomyr, but the aggressors were neutralized there. Roadblocks are being set up in the capital, limiting movement around the city. Russian sabotage groups are operating in Kyiv, disguised in civilian clothes and speaking Russian. If you see suspicious individuals, inform law enforcement officers. Be vigilant. It will be difficult, but we must persevere! The army is with us, the Territorial Defence Forces are with us, and justice is with us! Glory to Ukraine!”

After hearing this news and enduring a difficult night in the school’s basement, I started thinking again about leaving Kyiv. But how could it be done?

I knew the authorities hadn’t organized any large-scale evacuation, and people had to leave on their own. I desperately tried to come up with an escape plan for my mother and me. However, I realized that someone important to me, Dima, was still on the Left Bank of Kyiv with his family, and he couldn’t join me.

I began searching for information on the Internet. Public transportation had stopped since yesterday morning, and while the Kyiv railway station was still functioning, the situation there was chaotic, with an overwhelming number of people and pets waiting for trains for a day. Suddenly, an urgent news release interrupted my search:

“Today a strict curfew will be introduced in Kyiv from 5:00 p.m. on Saturday, February 26, until 8:00 a.m. on Monday, February 28. Driving your own vehicle, except for those with special passes, is prohibited. All civilians who are on the streets during the curfew will be considered members of the enemy’s sabotage and reconnaissance groups. It is allowed to open fire on them.”

This announcement was released around 3 pm, leaving only two hours before the curfew. If I wanted to escape, I had to pack my things and find a car to get to the station. I didn’t have enough time to do all of that. I realized that I had to stay in Kyiv for another two days.

I laid in my bed, consumed by helplessness and devastation, staring up at the ceiling. My body felt chilled from the last few days, and I had no appetite or ability to sleep. Even the thought of taking a shower seemed overwhelming.

In the midst of my despair, I searched for something to hold on to, a glimmer of hope. My mind found solace in thoughts of Lena and Leon living in their cozy home nestled in the natural beauty of western Canada. I remembered our video calls, with Lena showing me her neighborhood – a picturesque scene of mountains, forests, and a serene lake. I imagined myself there, taking a deep breath, inhaling the pleasant scent of pine trees.

As I immersed myself in this imaginary atmosphere, hope arose in my heart. Warm tears streamed down my cheeks and dripped into my ears. But then, loud explosions outside jolted me back to reality.

It’s impossible to make it happen. I don’t have a visa or money for the flight. I can’t even leave my city! I need to stop dreaming and focus on surviving here and now, I ordered myself.

Taking a deep breath, I gathered my strength and prepared to spend another night in the school’s basement.

Mom refused to go the bomb shelter again, insisting she felt calmer and safer at home. She assured me that she would take shelter in the bathroom during sirens, as it was considered the safest spot in our apartment, being centrally located. Andrey also chose to stay at home. So, at half past four, I left home alone.

Upon reaching the school, I saw that more people had gathered than the day before. All the storage rooms in the basement were already occupied. My last hope for finding a place to stay was the gym room. But it turned out that there were even more crowded. Literally, every piece of the floor was covered with people lying on blankets. For a moment I was totally confused amidst the kaleidoscope of people… but finally I saw one empty place! It certainly was not located in the best spot, however, it was a soft mat in a warm room.

After securing my place, I went back up to the street, where it was already dark. People gathered near the entrance to the basement for the last breath of fresh air before the long curfew. They discussed current events, but I found it hard to focus on their conversation.

The war had only been going on for a few days, but it had completely changed my perception of everything around me.

Lights from neighboring houses used to be comforting, but they now filled me with alarm, as they could become targets for shelling. The school, once filled with children’s laughter, had transformed into a fortress of refuge for terrified people. Even the trees, once a source of green relief amidst the concrete of dense buildings, now appeared as a protective barrier against the approaching battles.

At 5 pm, we heard explosions and gunshots, much louder than before, indicating that the battles were closer this time. The man and woman from the Territorial Defence Forces asked everyone to go down to the basement, and once everybody was inside, they closed the metal door behind us. All the men were called to gather in the gym.

“Men who are inside, please come here for the announcement!” the woman from the TDF shouted.

They all gathered in the gym, so I could hear the announcement clearly.

“We want to tell you a few rules about being here,” said a man from the TDF. “First, we will turn off the lights in the entire building. When you go up to the ground floor of the school, whether to go to the toilet or catch a phone connection, do not turn on the lights.

“Second, the phone rule,” he continued. “Please turn off geolocation on your phone. Also, on the ground floor, do not sit near the windows with phones because the light of the screens can be seen from the outside. When talking on the phone, do not give the address where you are. Don’t take photos of the school and shelter areas.”

The woman from the TDF stated the third rule. “All of you probably know that tonight the Territorial Defence Forces and the military will catch saboteurs. If you are sitting on the ground floor by the window and see something strange, let us know right away. We will pass this information on to our colleagues. In the last few days, there were cases when, in shelters like ours, some people were taking photos and videos, asking strange questions. It soon became clear that they were Russian saboteurs with the object of getting information about the shelters. Be vigilant to spot such people!”

“Fourth, we need volunteers to stand guard at the entrance to the shelter. Two people, who will be changed every two hours.”

After the announcement, I decided to go to the main floor. There I found a quiet place where I could make some phone calls. First of all, I called Dima.

“How are you? Are you at home?” I asked.

“Yes, I am at home with my father and sisters. When it gets too crazy outside we go down to our building’s basement—”

Dima didn’t finish his thought. Suddenly he shook and cursed. I heard loud bangs similar to fireworks.

“What happened?!”

“The air defence system is operating! It’s stationed right here in the field, between the Thermoelectric power station^[4] and my apartment building. It works loudly every 20 minutes, day and night. The sound is so intense that the windows are vibrating, and it feels like they could shatter at any moment,” he explained in an exhausted tone.

“Wait, wait… so the military has positioned an air defence base right in front of your building to protect the power plant from the attack?” I said with fear in my voice.

“Yes,” he replied sharply.

“Dima … maybe Obolon would be safer for you? At least here is no such obvious target for the Russians.”

“I don’t think so. You have nearby the town of Vyshhorod and a dam on the Kyiv Sea ^[5]. If the Russians succeed in destroying it, a huge stream of water will flood all Kyiv. And Obolon will be the first district in its way.”

“I had thought they wouldn’t dare to do that! But you’re right…it’s likely,” I agreed and continued, “I’m in the school basement again. I feel safer here, but I’m alone and very anxious… I can’t overcome my fear.” My voice started to tremble, and I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

Dima responded with sadness, “I wish I could be with you right now. It would be easier to go through all of this terror together.”

“I also wish I could be with you…and with your family. Your family’s faith in God must be keeping your spirits up,” I replied.

“Yes. You can find strength in faith too.” Dima paused and suggested, “If you want, I can pass the phone to my dad. You know he has a strong faith in Jesus Christ.”

In a moment, I heard Dima’s dad, Valentin, on the other end of the line.

“Hello, child!” he greeted me, as cheerful as if it was a normal day. “What is your concern?”

“Hello…I’m so scared! The fear consumes me from the inside!” I started sobbing.

“Don’t be afraid! The devil is trying to fill you with fear. His goal is to intimidate you and plunge your mind into the depths of despair.”

“How can I deal with it?”

“Faith! Only faith in God and prayer can save you from the darkness,” he replied, with no hesitation.

“Yes…I have already tried to pray. But I’m not sure whether I’m doing it right,” I muttered.

“When you pray, it’s enough just to talk to God, as we are talking to each other now. If you do it with faith in your heart, you can be sure He will hear you!”

“Okay…I will try.  But I still have disturbing thoughts that bother me.” I paused. “I don’t know what decision I should make: stay in Kyiv or leave? If I leave, then which city or country should I go to? How dangerous can this journey be? And… I will be separated from Dima if I leave. It’s all too complicated… but soon, I have to make some kind of decision.” I sighed.

“Life without God is a life of uncertainty. You are now like a lost wanderer in the fog and do not see where to go. But if you entrust yourself to God, He will give signs to show you which path to take.”

“So … I just need to talk to God and ask Him to show me the way?”

“Yes, that’s right! I hear in your voice that you feel a little reassured?”

“Yes, I feel better now! Thank you, Valentin.”

“God bless you!” I heard him smile on the other end of the line.

Later, I called my dad and asked how he was doing and what their situation was in Vyshhorod. Tato and his wife were staying in the basement that night, as the situation in the town was not safe. I was worried about them. The small towns around Kyiv were more vulnerable than the capital.

I also got on the phone with my childhood friend, Kira. By a lucky coincidence, she, together with her husband Andrew and their little son, had left Ukraine just a couple of days before the beginning of the war. But their parents remained in Kyiv. Kira and Andrew immediately organized everything so that their family could leave as soon as possible. Kira told me how hard it was for her mom, aunt, and Andrew’s mother to get to the Polish border. But the hardest part was ahead. They walked 15 km to the border checkpoint and were still standing there with a crowd of women and children in the open-air frosts.

After I finished all these telephone conversations, I was left with mixed feelings. Sitting close to the window, I looked outside trying to think over what I had heard. Rare snowflakes were slowly falling on the empty street.

Around 9 pm, I went downstairs to the gym in an attempt to sleep. Wrapped up in a woolen plaid, I took a book and lay down on the mat. I felt a great contrast. Around the school, in the darkness, an icy wind whistled, and there were frightening sounds of explosions, as if evil itself had set foot on the streets of the city. But under the ground, in our shelter, a bright electric light shone, it was warm, and the hum of people lying tightly on the floor did not fade. Between the rows with bedspreads and resting people, children were running and laughing, free from the anxieties of adults. Life went on in the basement regardless of the violence happening above ground.

The night turned out to be difficult. Several times during the night, I heard very loud explosions somewhere near us. Hearing them, I prayed that my apartment building would not be damaged and that my mother and Andrey would remain safe.

At 7 am, the basement door was opened, and those who wanted to go home were free to leave. When I went outside, the first thing I looked at was my apartment building, and thank God, it was intact!

I met with Mom and Andrey, who surprisingly had managed to sleep. At breakfast, I watched the news, feeling both hopeful and anxious.

The news reported the horrors and death caused by the Russian troops, but it also showed the strong resistance of the Ukrainian people. They mentioned the “Ghost of Kyiv,” a nickname given to a Ukrainian fighter pilot who was credited with shooting down many Russian planes over Kyiv from the first day of the invasion. (Later, it was revealed that the “Ghost of Kyiv” was a legend, and the success in defending Kyiv airspace was a collective effort by the 40th Air Force Tactical Brigade). The news also mentioned that over the past two days, 100,000 Ukrainians had joined the army, and there were huge queues at military registration offices. Videos from the occupied cities of Berdyansk and Kherson in the south of Ukraine showed that local residents protested and prevented the Russians from hanging their flag on the buildings. President Volodymyr Zelensky announced his plans to fight to the last and reclaim all the occupied territories.

***

On February 27, the curfew continued in Kyiv. All bridges between the left and right banks were blocked. There were no people on the streets, and no cars on the roads. It felt like the beginning of the pandemic in March 2020, but this time, we were confined to our houses by another terrible enemy.

Surprisingly, the day was quiet. There were no explosions or sirens. On this date, peace negotiations began between Russia and Ukraine, resulting in a temporary ceasefire.

I knew that the next day on February 28 at 7 am, our second day of restriction due to the curfew would end. So, I started thinking about how to take advantage of the moment. I searched through Telegram Messenger channels and found information on how to get to Poland. However, the news showed that cars and buses were also being attacked, and roads were destroyed in some places. Cars were stuck in kilometer-long queues at checkpoints to pass through cities on the way to the western border of Ukraine. I concluded that the safest way was the railway. All trains were free to board, so there was no need to worry about tickets. But the main problem was how to get to the railway station. The subway and public transport were not working, and finding a taxi would be a miracle

I packed my suitcase just in case, but I hadn’t made the final decision to go. Each passing day in a war-torn Kyiv became increasingly difficult for me to bear. I talked to Dima about my desire to leave the city, but his response was restrained as he had no choice but to stay behind. The last time we saw each other was on February 23, just a few hours before the war began. And now, I had a chilling premonition that war marked the beginning of our separation.

It was time to go to sleep, and until the next morning I had to think about everything and make a final decision. The past few nights were terrible due to the huge stress, making it almost impossible to relax and sleep. But that night was different. The ceasefire brought silence to the Kyiv night. Many Ukrainians had high hopes that the peace negotiations could stop the war.

On the morning of February 28, I woke up in a good mood. The trembling in my body and muscle spasms disappeared, and my appetite had returned. Thanks to my deep sleep, the break in the bombing, and the weekend curfew coming to an end, I felt better. The sun was shining brightly, and the streets were calm and quiet. For a short time, it seemed like I had returned to the peaceful life of the past.

Aunt Lena called me. “Hi, Stesha, how are you?”

“Hi, Lena, you won’t believe it, but it seems that everything is getting better!”

“Be careful with your optimism.” she warned me. “Such serious events cannot simply end like this.”

“I see, but perhaps the beginning of a ceasefire is a sign?”

“I have no idea,” Lena replied. “Of course, it’s up to you, but for me, it would be safer to go to Western Ukraine or Poland. Moreover, now there is a real chance to do this while the bombing has stopped and the curfew has ended.”

“I can’t leave Dima and Mom.”

“Mom should go with you!” she said loudly, with determination. “I’ll talk to her again. And with Dima, yes, it’s difficult… but I’m so worried about you and Liuba! If there is a chance for you to be safe, you should take it.”

“It’s too hard, Lena! Why must I make this choice?”

“Hold on! You are not alone. Leon and I will support you no matter what.”

After the conversation with Lena, anxiety gripped me once again. I moved closer to the TV to listen to the news. They reported that the enemy had attempted to break through Kyiv’s defenses at night, but all attacks had been repulsed. There had also been a few attempts to assassinate President Zelensky. The news presenter gave a dramatic account of the events:

“Over the weekend, a group of mercenaries from the ‘Wagner Group’^[6] tried to break into Kyiv’s government quarter. Their orders from the Kremlin were to kill President Volodymyr Zelenskyi and his government, preparing the ground for Russia’s seizure of power. The list of targets included the prime minister, the entire Cabinet of Ministers, the mayor of Kyiv, Vitaliy Klitschko, and his brother, Volodymyr, totaling 23 people.”

By noon, I heard the strident sirens again, and the sounds of battles resumed.

I wanted to scream, No! Not that again! My body began to chill, tears streamed down from my eyes… I felt crushed. Just a couple of hours ago, I had allowed myself to think optimistically, only for my hopes to be shattered by the resumption of the fire.

Later, I was devastated by the news from Kharkiv and Mariupol, where Russians fired “Grad rockets”^[7] at residential areas. It was a horrifying terrorist act, and the shocking footage of the shelling drove me to hysterics. I felt powerless, fearful, and filled with anger at the Russians for their horrendous crimes against the civilian population and the destruction of Ukrainian cities.

I began to plead with Mom to leave.

“Mama! Don’t you understand what’s going on? They’re bombing not only military targets! Now they’re striking us, civilians!”

“Yes, but… these are infrequent cases…”

Her hesitation and unwillingness to admit the terrible reality just drove me crazy!

“MAMA! Wake up! This is just the beginning! If they allowed themselves to bomb residential areas several times, they will continue to do that again and again. Just look at what they’re doing with Kharkiv and Mariupol- they’re openly shooting artillery and rockets at residential buildings in broad daylight!” I shouted.

“Stesha, calm down…”

“I can no longer stay in our home, knowing that at any moment they can start shooting at us! Can you?” I paused for breath. “And I can’t stand living in the school basement either. We must flee from Kyiv! To Western Ukraine or Poland… anywhere, just to feel safe.”

“But what about my husband Tolya… and Dima? And the apartment? And the cat?” she asked, upset.

“We will definitely take Kasia with us, leave the apartment for Andrey, and your husband, Tolya, can come with us. He is allowed to go abroad since he is over 60, unlike Dima, who is 32 years old (the military service law does not allow men aged 18 to 60 to leave the country).”

“Tolya won’t go. He is very attached to his own apartment. He spent his whole life there…”

“I see. But you have to make a decision,” I said, trying to push her a bit.

I saw my mom`s hesitation and inner struggle. I experienced the same inner turmoil.

It was already nighttime outside. I went out onto the balcony to take a deep breath of the frosty fresh air… and still did not feel relieved. No sedative pills and no reassuring words were able to console me at that moment.

The changes in my apartment made me feel even more miserable. All the windows were sealed with tape, the beds were moved, and large bags with blankets, water, and snacks stood ready in the corridor in case we urgently needed to run to the bomb shelter.

On that night I chose to stay home. My attempts to relax and have a good sleep in the school bomb shelter were almost hopeless. It was noisy, cramped, and the bright electric lights were always on there. Instead, in my nervous state, I craved peace and normalcy.

I went to bed with a heavy burden on my heart. The slight vibrations of windows from explosions somewhere behind the buildings were even more depressing. Tears flowed like a river, and I did not hold back. There was only one question in my head: What should I do?!

The words of Valentin surfaced in my memory. He had said that God is always here and I can always ask Him for help. And I started to pray. I knew only one prayer – The Lord’s Prayer, which I had learned when I was five, thanks to my grandmother Lida’s teaching.

Our Father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be Your name;

Your kingdom come;

Your will be done in earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread;

and forgive us our sins

as we forgive them who sin against us;

and lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from the evil one.

For Yours is the kingdom

and the power and the glory, forever and ever.

Amen.

I repeated the prayer incessantly, seeking comfort and guidance in the midst of my despair. I asked the Lord not to leave me alone and to show me the way. I talked with Him in my mind, sharing all my fears and the lack of understanding of how to proceed. At that moment, I had no doubt that He heard me and would help me. It was the first time I had prayed with such sincerity and faith.

I spent the whole night praying and talking to God. At dawn, I was brought back to reality by the sharp ringing of my phone.

^[1] Stesha is the affectionate name by which my family refers to me.

^[2] Territorial Defense Forces (TDF) are an armed force formed by residents, responsible for local security.       

^[3] Vitali Klitschko is the current mayor of Kyiv.

^[4] The Thermoelectric power station №6, which is a target for the Russians, is visible from Dima’s balcony. It’s the largest power plant in Kyiv and provides electricity and heat to five districts, including Obolon.

^[5] The Kyiv Sea, is a large water reservoir located in the Dnipro River in the north of Kyiv

^[6] The Wagner Group is a mercenary army hired by the Kremlin to support the Russian army.

^[7] The BM-21 “Grad” (meaning “hailstorm”) is a self-propelled 122 mm multiple rocket launcher  developed in the Soviet Union. Designed to destroy military targets.