Visitors at the farm

I bring the axe down on another piece of firewood. It’s late in the afternoon. I think a lot about what happened last night. I worry for Sasha, because now there’s a chance that she could be pregnant. How long can we really stay here and take this ****?

Some things aren’t easy to think about, so I keep my head down and focus on my work. I take another swing. The wood doesn’t split, so I lift the axe again.

A man’s hands rip the axe out of my hands and grab me from behind. I struggle but he’s bigger and stronger than me, and spins me around. He pushes me against the barn wall and pins my hands above my head. His grip around my wrists is so tight that it hurts. I try to knee him in the balls but he catches my leg with his, before pressing his knee into my crotch and immobilizing me.

I finally get a chance to have a look at my attacker as he sticks face in mine. He’s an ugly fucker, with beady little dark brown eyes. His face, chin, and ears remind me of a rodent. He looks like a rat. His breath reeks of fish and vodka. To my surprise, he’s wearing a Soviet uniform, with a garrison cap and an overcoat. There’s a rifle slung across his back, and a few other men behind him.

“Do you live here, girl?” He asks me.

I stutter and fail to answer him.

“What, are you fucking stupid?” He snarls and jams his knee into me harder.

“Just let her go.” One of the soldiers behind him says. He’s a clean cut and handsome young man, wearing a Soviet winter hat with the ear flaps up.

The one in my face grabs me by the collar with one hand before turning. “You stand the fuck down, kid.” He orders, shaking his fist and pointing his finger. “You don’t tell me what to do.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” He says, turning back to me, his rotten teeth in my face. “Useless bitch.”

I head butt him right in his goblin-like nose. “Fuck you!” I sneer as he recoils and covers it with his hand. He slams me back against the wall again. Fire and anger are in his eyes as he raises his hand. My head whips to the side when he backhands me across the cheek.

“Cut the shit, Smirnov!” A louder voice yells from behind. “Let go of the girl.”

It’s a man, maybe about forty, carrying a nicer rifle and wearing a Soviet helmet. He’s with another small group of men. There’s an air of authority about him.

“Yes, sergeant.” My attacker says.

“Just take us to whatever man is in charge of you.” He sneers at me as he lets me go with a shove in the direction of the house. I brush my fingers against my cheek. It stings.

The older one catches up with me as we walk.

“Are you okay?” He asks me. “I’m sorry about… him.” He seems kind and sincere.

“It’s okay.” I tell him. “He hits like a girl.”

He cracks a big smile and lets out a laugh. I smile back at him.

“My name is Sergeant Dadonov.” He introduces himself.

“My name is Tatyana.” I tell him. “It’s nice to meet you.

“Do you live here?” He asks me.

“No, but I’m staying here.” I explain.

“Who might I want to talk to around here?” He asks. “Who owns this house?”

“His name is Yuri.” I say. “I don’t know what you want from him, but I wouldn’t expect much.”