finding my self

Welcome to my Life

This story is about my childhood. Most people would say I'm crazy or lying but what I'm saying is all true. This is my story and mine alone. It all started in Tura, Russia. I don't remember the place I was born, my parents or if I had siblings. My name is Alla, but before now, I didn't know I had a name. I was four years old when I was taken in by the wolves. At that time, I was wandering the woods alone and had lost my mother and father.

There was one she-wolf that took care of me the most. She had recently lost her pups in a bear attack. She treated me like her own, so I'll just call her mom. I loved her and still love her.

I ate what they ate. I even played with the other pups, but mom was always around. We moved around a lot in our territory to find better hunting grounds. When mom went hunting, the alpha female would watch over the pups. She was very strong, that's why she watched over us.

I miss it all, even the grumpy alpha male. Though I wouldn't go back, I wouldn't be accepted back because I smell too much like humans. Mom's dead. She died two days before I was brought back to civilization. I was only nine when I was 'rescued' from where I was. They took me straight to Moscow. I put up a fight all the way to Moscow. When I got there, I was restrained and was put into a check-up room. At that time, I couldn't speak at all and the doctor thought I never would. It was aggravating that I didn't know what they were saying. Once I even cried. I missed my pack, my home and I knew I would never go back. Until one day my tears stopped coming and I decided I would stop moping around and learn this strange language.

So, I started listening and looking at their body language. A week or two later, I was brought into a different area of the hospital where I met a few younger kids. They would play with me like when I was in my pack, try to talk to me and helped me with the alphabet. They made me feel like I belonged. Even though I didn't understand them, we communicated through hand and body gestures. I wish I could go back and thank them for all they did for me,

A month later, devastation struck. One of my closest friends died during a surgery. I saw everyone crying. I didn't know what was going on. It was only a few years ago I found out that she had died; she couldn't handle the surgery. Once a month, I go visit her grave, as a way to say thank you. The other kids I never heard from again.

A week after her death, I was sent to an orphanage. The other kids there were mean and so was the owner. I didn't stay there long because I bit the owner. I was kicked out and put in a school for the challenged and weak. There was another name for it but I forgot it. I was put into a preschool level class with a few other kids. The teacher was hard working, nice and helped me through some of my hardest times. I'm still in contact with her actually. Her 90th birthday is next week.

By the age of 10, I was able to read Dr.Seuss and other books like that. I could also count to 50. The teachers were surprised at how much I could learn in such a small amount of time, but all I cared about was that I could finally understand what they were talking about. At the end of the year, I was ready for kindergarten.

When they let all of the kids out of school, the parents came to pick up their kids. When they all left, I knew that no one was coming, but I still stood out there for hours. The teachers didn't notice me until it was dark and I had a cold. The teachers at the school put me into my room and left me there for the night. I was all alone with nothing but a bed and blankets.

When I finally fell asleep I dreamt of being home with the pack and my mom. We were playing, running and had an amazing dinner. Then I woke up and remembered where I was, I cried and cried. While I was there I was very depressed and didn't want to do anything but sleep. I would barely eat. Sometimes they would have to force feed me, which was harder than you'd think.

A week after school ended a caseworker came to pick me up and bring me to my foster home. I fought tooth and nail so I wouldn't have to go. I never liked change even now, but I've gotten better dealing with it. In the end, they got me into the car by getting me a stuffed animal, which was a big deal for me, especially because it was a wolf. I actually still have it. I remember bringing it everywhere I went no matter where I went. The caseworker was very nice but didn't talk much. The ride in the car was long and boring. By the time we got there, I was fast asleep.

When I woke up, I was in a random room with nothing in there except for the bed I was sleeping in. Let's just say I freaked out. My caseworker came running into my room to calm me down and to introduce me to my foster parents. They were a young couple who just got a farm and wanted to start a family. I was their first foster child and I was a hand full. Over the winter, I would be at school and during the summer I would stay with them. We would laugh and play, they even bought me some new clothes and toys. It seemed like my life was finally going right. I had a family who loved me and an amazing school. My reading, writing, and speaking are getting better by the day.

I thought nothing could go wrong, but it did. One night I woke up to the sound of yelling and a door slamming shut. I was frozen in fear, hearing all the loud noises scared me, even now loud noises freak me out. While I was in my bed, I heard stomping coming up the stairs and close to my room. Closer and closer and closer, until it was right outside my room. At that point, I was crying a river. The door swung open, and my foster dad came in fuming, he smelled horrible. Later on, I found out he smelled of alcohol, but as a kid, I had no idea what alcohol was, let alone what was going on. He walked over to me and pulled out his belt and started hitting me with it. I tried to run away but all I did was corner my self. The beating went on till I had bruises all over, at the end he said: " this is all your fault you unwanted child I never want to see your face ever again". I remember it like it just happened yesterday and have scars from the beatings, and I still wonder why.

I stayed there for 4 years before the teachers started noticing the bruises and scars on my body. By that time, the wife had left and it was just my foster dad and me. When the police came to the house, my foster dad went upstairs tied me down and killed himself. Then the police found us; a crying kid and a dead man.

I'm

By the next day, it was all over the news, the paper, and the school. I was basically the outcast. No one would talk to me or play with me. It was hard for me to focus and learn. I started to slip away, slip, slip, slip, until there was only a shell of what I was. I felt like I was STUPID, ANNOYING and I didn't deserve to live. I started eating less, sleeping all day and not leaving my room. I had fallen into a depression. Soon after the nightmares started, I'd wake up screaming and start to cry.

Suddenly, it all changed. The school decided that it'd be best for my health to get me a roommate. But it's not what you'd think, you'd think a person with good social skills but that's not what happened. They gave me a Wolf-dog. I named her Gypsy. She has gray and white fur and blue and green eyes. She was just a pup when I got her, the runt of the litter. She was always smaller than her siblings, but no one can deny she's beautiful.

When I first met her I almost completely ignored her. The teachers would feed her for me. It took me only two weeks to start to grow closer to her. Then we became inseparable. She went everywhere with me. I was slowly getting out of my depression. I started liking school. I was having fun. Soon after, they found us a home. It was a lovely single lady that wished for a child. I'm glad I wasn't adopted by a man, I still feel uncomfortable around men. When I was younger, I would have had a panic attack or even worse. I'd rather not talk about it. The point is that I was and am happy.

I'm 20 now. I have finished high school and I'm still living with my adopted mother. I have told you my story. Not for you to pity me or say how strong or brave I am. I want you to tell my story as a reminder that if you work hard and persevere you can get anywhere.

20-year-old Alla found dead in her room by pneumonia. Family grieves over the loss of the amazing girl. She will be loved and remembered.