Que lo que manitos, so this is a revised version of the first chapter. If you're new I hope you enjoy the story, if you already read the first chapter then I hope you enjoy the changes. I also want to explain some formatting. Italics indicates dialogue in another language, underlined italics puts an emphasis on whatever is said in the other language. That's all you need to know, for now, there will be further developments on how dialogue is conveyed, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.
I came into the world fighting. Not only was I born in a cold and unforgiving frozen hell, but I was born into a war full of people who wanted me dead. But I'm getting ahead of myself, let me introduce myself. My name was Dimitri; I'll explain the "was" later, just know that names can be a façade. Anyway, as I was saying, I didn't come into the world gracefully. I had to fight during my first few days on this world, for I had entered a month too early. However, my father saw the fighter within me and never stopped believing in me.
"Вы боец," he would tell me, "затем бороться."
After two long years my father didn't need to keep reassuring himself that I would win my first battle. I beat the odds and would live to survive, but with victories always comes a price. I would win life, but I would have to lose my father. I only knew him for two years, then he was ripped from my life. Shortly after, my mother decided we needed to move. Being that I was two years old it made no difference where we lived. So we packed up all our stuff, which wasn't much. We had always lived comparatively light to others, and add in the fact that there wasn't anything left of my father… well, you get the idea.
"Дмитрий, please listen." my mother asked softly, but sternly. My mother, Zhanna, was a gift the world didn't deserve. She could command your attention with a smile. She never had to raise her voice at anyone because no one ever wanted to disappoint her. Just don't let her looks deceive you, she could outwit anyone. I never saw anyone disrespect her, and I was about to be the first.
"Да Мама?"
"You need to listen, and listen carefully. Please."
I nodded, I'd never heard her voice so full of concern and worry.
"Now you know we're moving, but first we have to meet Tetya Roza."
"Who is that?" I asked.
My mother searched for the right words to say "She's… your father's sister, and only family. We have to visit her before we leave."
"Where are we going?"
"I don't know yet."With that all said and done she rose and grabbed her bag.
We then headed towards the docks in order to get a ride to Pevek, our first stop to freedom.
The boat ride wasn't so bad, the ride was long and boring, but comfortable. It was a good thing that we were traveling during the summer; when the waters weren't completely frozen, just a small sheet of ice.
When I woke up from the last of the many naps that I took, I felt as if I had woken up a year later. I knew that my face showed the confusion too, because from the few people who were on the deck with us were cooing about how cute I looked when I was confused.
"Дима, мы в Певек." My mother whispered.
I groggily rubbed my eyes and mumbled "huh?"
"We've arrived. We need to get off the boat."
"Oh. Are we still going to Tetya Roza's house?"
"Да," she said with a nod. "We are."
"How are we going to get there?"
" She's already waiting for us."
"Oh ok."
Without another word we took our bags and stepped onto the docks. I didn't know who to look for, but I didn't need to because Tetya Roza saw us before we saw her.
"You come to meet your nephew for the first time and that's how you dress?" My mother asked clearly annoyed. I didn't know why she sounded the way she did; Tetya Roza was dressed fine, only she looked like she would be cold in the thin layers. Granted it was summer, but we were still really far north.
Tetya Roza scoffed, "Zhanna please , I covered up enough to be acceptable in public. Be glad that I didn't bring my work with me."
"Whatever," My replied with a roll of her eyes. "Can you please take us to your home. Or are you still working?"
"Oh no, my girls may be still working but I don't do the type of work they do."
"No, you only wear the same 'uniform'." When she said uniform, my mother did air-quotes. Which I learned meant that someone was being sarcastic, but that being sarcastic is rude. I didn't know why my mom was being so rude to this lady who was offering us her home.
"please Zhanna, you know that a respectable workplace has everyone wear a uniform." She then waved her hand in a dismissive manner. "Come, let's go home and talk."
"Fine." My mother grabbed my hand and followed Tetya Roza home.