A Soviet's Struggle

Во́семь

It had been months. Mariya's Birthday had long since passed - she was now 18 - an adult. She made a living doing what she did best; drawing. Silsina, by day, played songs with a Guitar she paid for a couple of months back; by night - Prostitution. Mariya didn't agree with it and when she found out; she was furious. Silsina tried to tell her that she didn't enjoy doing it - using it as a way to get money. Mariya never listened - saying that Mavin wouldn't approve.

The time read 4:52 P.M. Mariya and Silsina were closeby, Mariya drawing for patrons and Silsina playing her Guitar to others. Mariya was drawing a little girl, around the age of 5; her mother holding her daughter's shoulder.

"How long will this take? I don't have all day!" The mother stated, clearly infuriated at the time. "It's been an hour." She added, looking at the Gas Masked Russian.

Mariya looked up from the paper, a look of tiredness on her face. The woman grunted and the little girl laughed and moved a bit in her chair. Mariya frowned under her mask, displeased with the child moving. Mariya grabbed an eraser and erased some lines, then grabbed her pencil again and shaded. She straightened her back and reached for a protected laminated case. Signing it, she put it in the case and handed it to the girl and her mother.

The girl smiled and the mother raised her eyebrows. "Goddamn." Mariya smiled under her mask, watching the mother groan and going through her purse - fishing for 96 Euros. 96 Euros from a Street artist was expensive in Germany - but Mariya's art proved the worth. "Have a nice day." The Hybrid signed to the pair, the girl waving as they walked away.

She leaned back in her plastic chair, counting the dollars. She frowned - the woman gave her 6 Euros short. She rolled her eyes and put the money in her wallet. It was time to close shop. In the distance, she heard Silsina's guitar - a talented soul. She folded up the chair and small table, grabbing one in both hands. Her tools and paper - under her arm and in her fists.

The Russian made her way to an alleyway, close to Silsina, and propped the table and chair against the wall. She sighed, looking at the makeshift beds and sheltering.

It was home.

She smiled, fumbling with the money in her jacket. The song in the distance stopped slowly; Silsina wrapping her last song up. Mariya plopped her butt onto her homemade bed, leaning against the wall. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This was her life now - a homeless freak to the civilised world. They barely made enough to get by - and jobs didn't want to hire them since they were homeless, and in the case of Mariya - underage until recently. Like Emma had suggested, Mariya had been working towards a GED, she had kept her word.

She sat there, listening to the taps of shoes coming down the alleyway. She identified the carrier as Silsina and not a dangerous drunk. Mariya wasn't one to judge though - ever since she had turned 18, she had turned to drinking. It was nothing heavy, but with the loss of Wilhelm and the loss of her family; she turned to it to forget. Silsina turned the corner to the resting Hybrid: "Hello, Mariya." The Ave stated, putting the guitar on the foot of her "bed."

The Hybrid opened her eyes, glaring at the red-faced Russian - still out of breath from playing and singing for hours. "How much did you pull today?" Mariya asked, sitting up straight and pulling her legs toward her body.

Silsina shrugged: "Just a few tips," she reached into her pocket and pulled out coins and a few crumpled paper notes. "What about you?"

Mariya quietly chuckled and reached into her pockets - pulling the notes out of her pockets.

"I haven't counted yet. But, I did four portraits today." Mariya looked down at the notes and began to count the money. Silsina watched eagerly, entranced in her sister's fumbling of their paper money. "I counted 174." Mariya signed, looking back up.