An Act of Honesty

"Watch your step, сука!" screamed a drunk old man on a troika. A fourteen year-old Natalia hurriedly scooted herself to the right side of the road. Nobody could blame her for the messy steps she took, though. She had been walking with her overly worn coat, shabby gloves and a pair of battered boots all the way from Nekrasovka to the heart of Moscow, trying to sell pies to the oligarch so she could have something to calm her growling stomach. However, nobody seemed to crave some pies today. The piercing cold snow of late December beneath her feet definitely did not help her case either. Goose pimples were gracing her pale complexion. Tired was an understatement. She barely could stand, let alone walk for another mile, but she knew she could not stop now. Not yet. She had to sell the pies, so she could go home and eat something.

Home. Just thinking about it sent chill through her slender figure. She did not have a home anymore. She was only nine years old when a terrible fire took her house and her beloved parents away, so she had to live in an orphanage. When the social worker took her there, she thought, 'This is good. I will have many friends here. I will be taken care of. It will be okay.'  Boy, she was wrong. As soon as the front door was closed, she was dragged to a small, damp room - her room, in which she had to share with twelve other girls. No, there were no free food for them. The first time she asked for breakfast, Dzmitry, the head of the orphanage slapped her across the face and said, "You want food, малютка? Earn it." She learned her lesson that day.

The girls had to do all the housework, to find their own money to eat, and to try not to make any mistake because Dzmitry would not hesitate to punish them. On her second night in the orphanage, she could hear one of the girls' cry for mercy and Dzmitry's grunts from outside of the room. Natalia had no idea on what happened or what kind of punishment that the poor girl received, but on the next day, that girl walked like she had been horse riding for twenty four hour straight and kept wincing whenever she took a step.

Natalia did not have any friends at first. All twelve of them were so busy trying to survive while hoping to be adopted that they had no time to befriend each other. However, Natalia was smart and persistent. She tried to make small conversation with the girls until finally, one of them responded to her. Aleksandra was her name. The most composed and caring twelve year-old Natalia's ever met. She knew Natalia had not been eating for days, so she taught her to make pies to sell. Because of her, Natalia could earn some money, give them to Dzmitry, and have something to eat. Aleksandra and Natalia became inseparable. They did everything together, and they looked out for each other. For once in her life, Natalia felt the delight of having a sister. Their happiness did not last long, though. 

One night, Dzmitry called Aleksandra to meet him at his office. Natalia's blood ran cold. She knew Aleksandra unintentionally made a hole on Dzmitry's shirt this morning when she was ironing it. They did their best to cover the hole, but failed miserably. Aleksandra had to pay for her mistake. Through the ajar door, Natalia could finally see what kind of punishment the girls had to endure. Aleksandra was tied on a chair, fully exposed. Her clothes were nowhere to be seen. Her scream and pleas fell on deaf ears while Dzmitry roughly forced himself into her without mercy. Natalia felt nauseous. She could not bring herself to stay and watch her best friend suffered, so she quietly ran back to her room, prayed to whoever was up there to keep Aleksandra safe, and cried herself to sleep. That night was the last time she saw Aleksandra in the orphanage.

The harsh sound of another troika brought her back to the present time. 'Focus. I still had to sell these pies.' Natalia thought to herself while shaking her head. She collected herself, took a deep breath, and continued her journey. "Do you want to buy some pies? Only 25 rubles each." Natalia said to the thirty-fourth person today. "Нет" was the reply. The cold weather broke through her gloves and turned her fingers blue. She noticed that the sky had turned from purple into black with twinkle in it. It reminded her of her nightly talk with her parents. They would sit outside of their house, looked up to the sky, and talked about existential aspects of life. She remembered that all her parents wanted was for her to have a good heart. She tried to live by her parent's values every day, even after the fire took both of them away. Tonight, however, was exceptionally hard. She was getting frustrated. Business was slow and she had not eaten for two days now. 'I probably could steal bread for my dinner tonight' she thought to herself, but then instantly regret the thought. "Бог моі, please send somebody to buy my pies. I really need the money so I could claim my food in the orphanage", she whispered quietly. With a heavy heart and tears in her eyes, Natalia started walking again.