“RATATATATATA!” I opened my eyes.
“RATATATATATA” this sound, the sound I knew too familiar, the sound banged through the walls and windows in my room, the sound pulsating within my brain that rippled fear down my spine, sending chills through my body making goose-bumps that seemed like pin heads that were protruding from underneath my flesh.
“RATATA SCHWIK-SCHWIK RATATATATA!!!” quick and abrupt flashes of light surged through my window, lighting up my room and flaring my eyes. There was a big pause and I waited, it had stopped. I jumped out of bed, only wearing my black cotton boxers and my white singlet, the adrenaline felt like cold shattered ice was crawling through my veins; I could feel my heart beating from the inside of my head as if it was about to burst. I fearfully arose out of my bed, finding my way in the darkness. I banged my head on the door frame, I a small trail blood trickled from my forehead with the red trail ending on my lips. I felt no pain, this was nothing to what my ears had fallen victim to, the noise that awoke me. I made my way to the hallway and turned on the light, the light was delayed for half a second then violently flickered on and off again, like in a horror movie. I looked down the hallway, each step I took made the passage seem longer. Running, I looked at the pictures, all their faces were distorted and blurry as if someone had a gotten a dirty rag and viciously rubbed the victim’s face. I had reached the front door and opened it, the instant I opened it the sharp icy wind was slicing against my face. The Russian winter was brutal and ever ceaseless, snow showered from the heavenly grey clouds covering the world like a white sheet, suffocating the life out of everything it could grab its hands on. There was no life here during this time of the year, everything was either sleeping or dead. You are left in the house maintaining to keep warm whilst the cold haunted your streets at night. It would slow your body down, sucking the warmth from you like a vampire. You have to fight it and learn to live with it, if you don’t it consumes you. I made my way to where I heard the guns being fired, looking down the street there were people awkwardly lying with bottles of Vodka in their grasps, these are the people who have been consumed and fallen victim, these are the ones who have given up, we called them the “wretches”.
I couldn’t feel my toes, but I didn’t go back inside, there was a sickening sensation in the atmosphere. Each step I took burned my toes like cold fire, and each step made my stomach churn as I was getting nearer and nearer to where I heard the sound come from. I wanted to turn back, all my instincts were screaming at me telling me to turn back, but I persisted on. I continued walking while folding my arms trying to conserve whatever warmth I had left. I mustn’t let the cold consume me. There was the corner, on the other side my window lay, where I had previously heard gun firing. I took a deep breath, my lungs were filled with the poisonous, freezing oxygen, and as soon as I turn around the corner I would see the horrors that awaited me on the other side.
I exhaled and turned around the corner. What I saw made my heart skip six beats, what I saw made my stomach churn like it was in a blender, poured in a glass and then dropped, shattering on the freezing hard ground. What I saw was burnt into my mind forever, what I saw still haunts my dreams and stalks my streets at night. Lying there, right across the street in a small alley way was a bloody, mutilated corpse. My body froze, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t move. Had I fell victim to the cold? No. I was stronger than this. I was taught to never be afraid no matter the circumstances. Even if you were on the brink of death, you stare at death right into his cold eyes and never divert your gaze, search into its darkest depths of its souls and make you his nightmare. I broke free of my own daze and ran towards the body.
The white snow was seeping up the warm blood, staining it red. I looked at the man’s face, he was still breathing!
“Помоги мне!” (Help Me!)
There was blood oozing out of the holes in his body, I put my hands on his bloodied chest. The warm stickiness of the blood was nauseating, covering my hands in a pool of blood, like someone had gotten dark red paint and dribbled it all over my hands and pasted glue on my fingertips. The man looked like he was in his late teens, early twenties maybe 19. He had deep blue eyes filled with fear of the unknown and colour of his hair was difficult to tell as the red blood clotted making it appear black. He was breathing quickly, taking quick, short and sharp breaths, trying to get his last gasps of the precious, cold oxygen before he died.
“Я не хочу умира-” (I don’t want to di-)” “gurgle, cough, cough” he was choking on his own blood…
hack!
Blood was expelled from his mouth and splattered across my face and clothes. I couldn’t see, blood covered my eyes, everything was red. I wiped my face on my shoulder, the blood smeared. I looked like I had been a victim of a bloody murder. I looked at the man in the eyes and told him he was going to die. By looking at him I could tell he had no family, lived nowhere and had nothing to live for, he was one of the wretches, the unfortunate victims. He had made a deal with death, one that he couldn’t keep andas a result lost all his precious belongings and family and he, himself, as a result was killed. I couldn’t help but feel sad and sorry for this young man. I watched as the life left his eyes, his eyeballs slowly turning upward, his grip around my biceps loosening, his breathing was getting slower and becoming less defined. He was gone. I promised him I would give him a proper burial, and I promise myself I would never end up like this, I promised myself I would never fall victim.
