‘You’re a joke,’ I laughed. ‘All you can do is hit women because you can’t stand up to men. You’re pathetic’
His hand cracked across my cheek. ‘You fucking bitch,’ he shouted.
‘Oh go on, hit me,’ I screamed back. ‘You can’t hit a man, can you? Come on. Do it. I’m your wife, aren’t I? That’s what I’m here for.’
Still the words didn’t stop as they poured from my mouth.
‘Come on!’ I screamed as tears streaked my cheeks. ‘Do it. Be a man. Show me what you can do.’
Sasha began to cry and hid under the table. I saw his frightened eyes looking out at us and part of me longed for it all to stop so that I could gather him up in my arms and comfort him. But it had all gone too far for that: Sergey and I were both riding high on a torrent of rage and frustration. Miserable in our lives, we could only blame each other for our wretchedness.
‘You are a laughable excuse for a man,’ I spat.
Suddenly Sergey lunged for me and grabbed my hair. ‘I’m going to take your scalp off,’ he shouted. ‘See if I don’t.’
‘So try it,’ I shrieked. ‘You’ll need to cut me. Do you want to cut me?’ We stared at each other as my challenge hung in the air. I wasn’t scared of him. I was sick of the bruises and split lips.
‘Go on,’ I spat. ‘Do it.’
Sergey pulled off his belt—an army belt made of thick leather with a big buckle which he loved—as he pushed me into the corridor, folded it into a strap and lifted it into the air.
‘No!’ I screamed and tried grabbing it from him, kicking my legs into the air, aiming for his groin. Somehow I wrenched the belt into my hand and hit him with it before running out of the front door and into the yard where I grabbed a piece of wood.
‘I’m going to kill you,’ Sergey shouted as he ran after me and I saw a glint of silver in the darkness.
Fear bit my throat. There was a meat knife in his hand. His eyes were dead and lifeless. I had to run. But Sergey caught me by the hair and started dragging me towards the summer kitchen. What had I done? Had I pushed him too far this time? He pulled me into the corridor and I broke free for a second as I tried to get away. But suddenly I felt a searing pain in my back and saw the knife falling through the air beside me. It landed on the floor and dark drops of blood dripped one by one around it. Whose were they?
I drew my hand around to my back and pulled it away to see a crimson stain. I fell onto the floor, crying as my breath came in gulps. Sergey didn’t move as he stood above me, confusion and fear written across his face. I stayed still as I lay on the ground.
‘It’s the last time,’ I screamed as I looked up at him. ‘I’m going to the police.’
But we both knew I wouldn’t. I’d seen it so many times with my parents. I knew the police couldn’t give me a place to live or money to buy food so what was the point in asking for help?
Sergey bent down and put his arms around me. ‘I’m sorry, Oxana,’ he whimpered. ‘I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. It’s just a cut, don’t worry. I’ll clean it.’
But I said nothing as the courage which had filled my veins drained away like the blood flowing out of the wound. As I looked into Sergey’s eyes, all I could see was darkness. I was his now. He had defeated me. Finally I knew there were no limits to what he would do to me. The knife may have missed its mark tonight but next time it would not.
I wanted to scream as Pasha cried—a high, thin wail he’d been making all day.
‘Sshh,’ I said as I bent down to pick him up out of his cot.
Anxiety and annoyance twisted my stomach. Sergey would be home soon and he’d scream at me if Pasha wasn’t quiet. His hatred of our son—and me—had only got worse in the weeks since the night he’d cut me. I hadn’t gone to hospital after the fight and the cut had left a thin, white scar snaking across my back.
All I could do was live in the shadows, hoping not to anger Sergey again because I couldn’t run. Day after day Sergey asked if I loved him and stayed close to me to make sure I didn’t try to leave again. I wasn’t going to. Once I’d had my father, now there was no one, so where could I run? Sergey had shown what he could do and I felt more powerless than ever. All I could do was trust that one day things would change.
As I picked up Pasha once again, I thought of what the doctor had said all those weeks ago. We were due to see him again soon and my son hadn’t got any better however much I’d tried to coax milk into him. The more I thought about the orphanage, the more I wondered if it might be right to put him there. My neighbour Janna who gave me food sometimes when I had none, the doctor and Mamma all told me it would be right, that the baby could be cared for properly there. Everyone said the same thing and I knew deep down what I had to do. I would put Pasha into the orphanage for six months to give me enough time to find a job and someone to look after Sasha while I worked. Then Pasha would be well enough to come home.
Sergey was so pleased when I told him later that night.
‘At last you’ve seen sense,’ he said with a smile.
It might be the right decision but I was seized by sadness as I packed Pasha’s few clothes into a bag the next day. Would he ever forgive me? I had never really learned how to love him properly and now I was sending him away.
‘He’ll have the operation he needs,’ the orphanage director told me the next day as she took him. ‘We’ll feed him up and make him strong.’
‘But when can I see him?’ I asked.
‘Whenever you want but most parents visit at weekends.’
‘Then that’s what I’ll do.’
Pasha looked so old as he stared at me. He was such a serious baby who hardly ever smiled.
‘Shall I take him?’ the director said and moved towards me.
A pain leapt up in my chest as his weight was lifted from my arms.
‘It’s for the best,’ I told myself as I started crying. ‘You’ll improve your life, make it better for the children and then he’ll come home. You have no other choice. You have to do this to keep him safe and well.’
Sergey took my arm as the door closed.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked roughly. ‘I’m glad he’s gone. Now let’s go.’
I didn’t say a word as we walked outside and I held tightly onto Sasha’s hand. I had given my baby away to strangers, failed him just as I had from the moment I knew I was having him, and I felt sick inside.
‘May God forgive me,’ I said silently to myself.
Soon after Pasha left I got a job in a café through a new friend. Her name was Marina and she lived on the same street as us. She was seventeen, tall and slim with long black hair and beautiful eyes but most of all she was kind. Marina could see how hungry I was and fed me whenever I went to visit her at her parents’ home. I was so happy to have a friend. A lot of people didn’t want to know me because of Sergey but Marina didn’t care. I’d felt so old and tired but with her I could almost feel like a real teenager again.
Soon we had started working in the café together, a place owned by a Muslim man called Aziz. At first Sergey hadn’t been at all happy about it, but he changed his mind when he heard about the $3 I would be making every day. My shifts lasted twelve to fourteen hours, so now I could put food