In honor of the anniversary of the family´s death, I am reposting the first chapter. I was going to do it on July 17, the exact day they died, but I couldn´t wait anymore.
This chapter is 99% the work of a great artist on DeviantArt: KeeganYoung, I just changed the ending and a few other things like the order in which some things happen, also adding a few others to fit my style and ideas, here is the link to his original story: keeganyoung/art/Liubov-Sviataya-93101061
This story is the description of the real murders of the Romanovs from Anastasia´s perspective, it is really different in the end from this chapter for obvious reasons, and a lot more realistic. You should check it out and favorite/comment if you have an account there, he also has amazing art of the family, Anne Boleyn, as well as other original art. Check out the original fic, it is amazing and gut-wrenching, and sadly, probably very similar to how the real Anastasia felt at the time. Like honestly, I can´t even begin to fathom how much thought went into every single detail, he literally did not forget anything: the smells, the sounds, the feelings and emotions, the clothes, the sight, the order of events, nothing. This author´s writing and characterization are just so perfect and on point, I had to ask him to allow me to borrow it for this first chapter of my alternative universe fic, and to my great delight and surprise, he said yes.
This chapter is pretty much a fanfiction of that original short story, almost none of the writing, dialogue, or descriptions are mine, but then I pick up from where I change the ending for the purpose of this fic.
Anyways, thanks a lot to KeeganYoung.
Trigger Warnings at the end.
The Ipatiev House in Ekaterinburg. July 17, 1917.
Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova.
Footsteps interrupt my lovely dream.
Someone is coming from the drawing room. They glide across the dining room, around the large table. Six-seven-eight steps… why do I bother counting? It is late.
I am far too tired for this, and yet there won't be any other option but to answer when the owner of the footsteps knocks on our bedroom door. I let Tatiana do this, as there is no way I am getting out of my cot. My second eldest sister is already thin as a stick, so why waste my effort? I cannot imagine that walking to the door or any amount of exercise could help my appalling weight gain. Even mama has mentioned it. Thank you, mama, I love you too.
Who cares about my fat self now? I am tired, but the annoying and loud knock on the door is finally heard, and I can't go on sleeping, so I open my eyes.
"Tatiana Nicholaevna? Could you inform the family we must get dressed? Commandant Yurovsky has told me we all must stay for an hour or two in the lower area of the house, they say it is for our own protection. It seems our Czech friends have finally come for us! I pray it is so! I'm sorry for this disruption Your Imperial Highness".
The last three words are whispered, the Lord forbid those pigs hear our own loyal servants use our old titles! I can hardly be bothered to even care for that right now though. I am tired. Let me sleep for a thousand days and then a week!
I know it is Eugene Sergeievich, our doctor, I can see his glasses reflecting what little light is filtering through the painted windows. Trust the red pigs to think we would try to escape by staring out the windows. We are clearly such devilishly crafty people. But now I do not care about the Bolsheviks and their silly imaginations, I need sleep. Why can I not have it?! The door closes after Tanya thanks Dr. Botkin. She has manners even at the devil's hour.
Tatiana strides over to papa and mama's room. Stride is a good word. She is like some gazelle, a deeply emaciated and skinny one. I can hear Tatiana say what Eugene Sergeievich has just told her.
"What? What?" Papa utters wearily. "Yes, my little one, let us get up then."
Tatiana comes back into our airy little room and moves for the switch to the ormolu light fixture overhead. I have never hated her as viciously as I do now, is she even human? How can she accept this easily she won´t be able to sleep any longer? It is too late though, the burning light hits my eyes as they adjust to the sting.
"Urrrghhhhhh! What fool dares invade my slumber?!" I mutter aloud to my sisters in the room. Tatiana gives me a frighteningly stern look and tells me to get up. I defy her.
Already Mashka and Olga are rising like phantoms from their cots near mine. I should like to think they have the same thought on their minds as me: What nonsense can this be?
They move to get up, but the lateness of the hour still casts its spell over them, and Maria falls back onto her pillow with an entertainingly loud plopping noise. I giggle like a rodent. Papa comes into the room and looks us over.
"My darlings, this could be serious, please, get up now and get your things ready," he says while staring at me with his sweet crinkled eyes. If papa wants it, then so do I.
I fight against gravity and all that other nonsense to get my bottom out of my blankets. The floor feels cool beneath my feet. Lovely.
Olenka is already busy at the drawers getting our day clothes and undergarments, Tanya at her side. I sit at the edge of my bed staring at them. I look at Maria, still lying down, and smile at the stupid grin she has on her face, still lost between dream and reality. No doubt some mushy romantic fancy about that guard. He is gone, a pity, they told us he was sick. I am sure they would have set records with the scores of children they would have had. That is improper to even think, but again, I do not care. Right now, I focus on getting over to my stockings and chemise waiting in my drawers over by the big pair. I try to move my legs, but they do not feel like doing what I want. Blast them! I somehow make it over to my clothes and begin to change, fumbling with the hideously small buttons on my nightgown and wishing I could just do away with every stitch of clothing I own.
Olga and Tatiana finish with their stockings and set out for their dark skirts and white blouses, which have been laid on the chairs in front of their beds. They cast looks of unknowing fear at each other. This makes me uncomfortable, and for the first time, I actually feel awake this morning. I look at the clock on top of the bureau: 1:43 AM. I do not like being up so early, it is not quite right.
Mama comes through the door in her nightclothes, a look on her face that I have not seen in months: Hope.
"Girlies we shall be leaving this place, I know it, our friends have not forgotten us! Now you know what we must do, our medicines must be attended for," she speaks in a hushed tone of anticipation. "Olya, Tanya, come here so we can fix you up first".
Her excitement is so endearing I come from behind and give her a warm hug that makes her stumble.
"Hurry up dear and start by yourself", mama tells me, completely unamused by my antics.
Anna Demidova opens the door and peeks in. Mama calls her into the room to help with the preparations. Olga and Tatiana stand as still as the statues in the parks of Tsarskoye Selo while mama and Aniuta conceal our jewels sewn in cloth under my sisters´ traveling wear. With the added bulk, my older sisters look half-normal, nothing like the gaunt skeletons they have come to be in the past year. I still wonder why is it that they grow thinner and thinner while I only get fatter with each day.
My turn comes.
"Nastenka, come here and we'll do you quickly", mama beckons in wearied tones. "Don't fidget child and it will go smoothly God grant it."
"Careful you don't make her look like a Matrushka!" Olga says smugly, referring to the rounded wooden nesting dolls that used to decorate my desk in our old rooms. Aniuta and Tanya laugh.
"At least I don´t look like a skeleton!" I tease back. I hope she does not realize that which is clear as day: I would give anything to look like her.
Something clicks in Olga's mind, and that same expression of uneasy fear is back on her face. I cannot help but loathe her entirely for just a moment. Her fear is making me afraid.
Mama fashions me in the bodice rigged with diamonds and rubies, stitched behind the seams. I feel like one of those dashing blockade-runners from Alexei's books, smuggling goods across borders for the sake of my fellow patriots. The romance of it all is overwhelming. One look at Tatiana's sour face and my lovely thoughts die shockingly fast.
Maria doesn´t have any gilded armor, we started sewing the jewels into our clothes back in Tobolsk, while she was already on her way here with mama and papa. I envy her for not having to be bulky like myself. She used to be fatter than me but has since lost all her baby weight in a way I can only pray I will. Still, the lack of exercise has made her start to regain some of that fat, but not even nearly as much as I, also with these jewels making me look like an elephant.
While I was thinking about my elephant self, mama had gone back to her and papa's room in order to dress up and fetch "the men of the family", as we playfully call them. Papa has since entered our room carrying Alexei in his arms.
I had not seen my little brother wearing actual clothes in months. He is in the green uniform he always wore at Tobolsk, which he then traded for a nightshirt and endless hours sitting in his bed. Everyone has become an expert on sitting down ever since we came to this dratted house.
Alexei looks like some shrunken creature from the witch's tale of Baba Yaga. The luster of his pale white skin and sunken eyes doesn't help to counteract the appearance much. I cannot help but stifle a giggle and in the process make a stupid grin. He notices.
"Shvibzik, can I ask what gives you a reason to laugh?" He commands in a tone of mock imperiousness.
"Why nothing at all your Imperi-aaal Highness," I remark with a foreign droll similar to that of Gilliard, our French tutor.
He smiles at this. An actual smile, well, his best attempt at one. It ends up looking pathetic and sad. My heart cries out for our poor Alyosha. Papa looks at me and I decide a continued production of my vocal talents is not exactly appropriate for this occasion.
Spotting Jimmy wagging his tail beneath my cot on his bed of rags, I scoop him up and shove my face into his ebony fur. I whisper into his ear in as many foreign accents as I please. At least he seems to appreciate my efforts.
Mama comes back from her room dressed in the same dress I have seen her wearing for what seems an eternity. Her look of exhilaration has not left her, but the dark lines under her eyes give away her fatigue, which reminds me… why am I not in bed? Still something I am trying to understand.
Aniuta follows mama, carrying the pillows that hold the pieces of jewelry too big to hide inside a button or corset. Mama hands Alexei his cap, with a fat red ruby secretly sewn under the top. He grins as he places it on his head. I cannot help but feel repelled by the ghostliness of the expression.
While I am sitting on the bed and making Jimmy dance a lively waltz through the air, mama looks at me and tells me I will have to leave him.
"But mama no! Please, mama! Not my little performer!" I beg her with my most dramatic flair. "I'll die without him! I just know it."
"Nastya, the little one will be fine in his bed while we wait downstairs, just think, Joy is outside, and he does very well on his own there."
I pout at my mother, and she sighs.
"All right then, take him", she concedes.
"Yay!" I celebrate as I stand up, spin Jimmy around, and kiss mama on the cheek.
"Hurry up", she says. It seems Tatiana is also taking her dog Ortipo, but mama doesn´t try to forbid her from doing so or even question her decision. Typical.
Botkin opens the door and asks if we are finally ready, mentioning that the commandant is waiting for us. What a man this commandant is! We had originally thought he was a doctor, but nothing could hide the fact he is really a horrid man. I have no doubt about it. He is a cold and stern fellow that speaks to us with the courtesy of an awfully bad actor who is only good at memorizing lines.
Papa tells Botkin we have everything we need and the door closes. I give the clock one last glance before that happens, 2:06 AM. An un-Godly hour.
We file out into the dining room, where the wretched man waits for us on the other side around the table. He asks us to follow him, and in single file, we leave the first floor for whatever safety the lower level offers. Safety? I defy that! Who is really safe in times like these? With a civil war apparently going on.
We go through the rooms and pass the kitchen and onto the landing. I carry Jimmy with one arm and my hold pillow in the other as I walk down the stairs. 20-21-22-23. I am counting again. Why do I care how many steps I go down? They still do not help my wretched curves.
We make it out in a line, papa with Alexei in his arms first. The metal brace on my brother´s misshapen leg makes a clicking noise with each bounce of papa's step. Mama walks behind with my oldest sister Olga beside her, Tatiana goes next, Mashka walks along with me, and our servants Botkin, Aniuta, Trupp, and Kharitonov form the back of our grand procession.
As I step from the house into the dry dismal yard, I look up at the sky and see the moon in its first quarter as it reigns over me and our little party on its way to a place of greater safety. I stare at it, wondering what this half-circle could know that I do not. It frightens me, and Maria sees it.
"Oh Anastasia, not afraid of the night are we?!" She teases me. "Stop gawking or you'll stall everyone with your senseless star gazing!"
I raise an eyebrow and direct a half-smile at my older sister. Very out of character, Mashka, I must say. I will get back at you for that later, you cheek!
The silence that held such power over the summer night is ruined by the hideous clunking and roaring of an ugly lorry that sits in the courtyard. The front lights blind us, illuminating our shadows against the side of the pale wall, turning them into a mass of black movement making quick progress towards a door. We enter through it.
The corridor is unfamiliar and as we walk through endless doorways. I see horrid guards peeking from the rooms and glaring at us, watching us, waiting for something. The heels of our shoes click on the wood floors. It reminds me of some strange waltz the band might have played on the Standart. Well, if they had had enough imagination maybe. Again I'm reminded of how tired I am. What dratted business this is.
We walk straight from one side of the house to the other and at last make a turn through a pair of double doors into a lit cellar. We crowd in and I admire the lack of space and places to sit. Leave it to these pigs to find us suitable accommodations. Everyone stands awkwardly still.
"What? No chairs?" Mama finally asks after a few seconds. "May we not sit?"
Her chronic pains don´t allow her to stand up for too long, the poor dear. Yurovsky looks at mama with a blank look, hardly surprising for a man with no soul. He asks someone to bring in a chair.
"Could you ask them to bring one for my son as well?" Papa asks, still holding Alexei in his arms. My brother is beginning to fall asleep on his shoulder.
They bring the chairs and set them in the middle of the small room. Mama sits down on one chair and Alyosha is seated by papa next to her on the other. Olga, Tatiana, and Maria put some of their pillows and cushions behind them to add comfort.
"Wait here in silence", Yurovsky orders in a disquieting tone that seems to frighten us all. "Our enemies abroad spread the gossip that you and your family are liquidated. That, of course, is not true". He smiles darkly at us. "You are alive and in good health. We are taking a photograph to stop those rumors."
As he leaves, I thank our Lord silently that what he said before is not the case, and then step back to take a better look at the cellar. It has a curved ceiling which amuses me, and pale striped yellow wallpaper. Pretty, if anyone asks my opinion. I turn around to see a locked door and frown. I do not know what is beyond it. That is the problem with closed doors.
There is only one window. I notice guards outside. They clearly must think windows are our favorite method of escape. Silly pigs.
The bare electric fixture overhead gives everything a harsh look and is hurting my eyes. Why am I not in bed? The question still dances inside my head. I struggle to even stand, so I put Jimmy on the ground. I can still pick out the engine from the yard making terribly loud noises. It is enough to wake the dead.
One-two-three-four. I am counting again, the seconds, or just counting. 30-31-32.
I am so bored. It has been half an hour already, I think… has it? Probably not, but what are Yurovsky and his goons even doing? I yawn. I want to sleep!
At least my little brother and mama have chairs to sit on, the poor dears, they are still in front of us with papa, while I am behind with my three older sisters and our four remaining servants. Little Leonka isn't here. I hope we get to see him soon. He was terribly helpful and so dear to us all, especially my brother. After just a few hours without Leonid, Alexei started missing him pathetically.
My sister Tatiana, left of me, hasn´t stopped carrying her dog Ortipo, but my dog Jimmy is walking around the room now, wagging its tail. So cute. My brother's dog Joy must be lurking outside the house somewhere, he always does that. How I envy that dog now, he has more freedom than us, and he can sleep if he wants to… now that I think about it, I could try to sleep on the floor, but mama would scold me, and I would not have the heart to defy her like I freely defy Tanya. Tanya just stares at me with fake scorn and sometimes laughs when I do, whilst mama becomes anxious. I can´t do that to her.
I keep looking around the room and my eyes meet Alexei Trupp's. I make a funny face at him, which brings a smile to his. I smile back.
My eyes wander, from Botkin's furrowed brow to the still rigid look on Olenka's face. I have not seen her smile in a million years.
My mind wanders too, why is it that we are here? Are we going to be moved to a different location? If so, I wonder where. I wish there was sun so I could at least see the sky through the window.
It has been half an hour, but it feels like more, I want to either sleep or leave this house already! Wondering where we are going to be taken next is the only fun thing to do.
"I wonder if they are going to move us to a different city," my youngest sister Mashka breaks the silence, as if reading my thoughts.
"I don´t know dear," papa answers with a smile, turning around from the door to face us. "We may not be taken anywhere, there is fighting outside, and they might have brought us here just for our own protection."
"I miss Tobolsk," she tells our father. "I hope if they move us, it is to a similar place. I wish it were Crimea to be with Babushka, but I know that won't happen…"
My sister sighs.
"God willing, we may not stay here for long," mama says from her chair, also turning her head around as much as she is able to.
Mama is stroking Alyosha´s hair with one hand. Sitting beside mama, my baby brother looks half-asleep with that head of his turned upwards. Poor baby. He managed to stand on one leg a few days ago, so I really hope he gets better soon and is able to play outside at least for the miserable minutes the guards allow us to. He has been sad these past few weeks, I can tell even if he tries not to let it show.
Also, poor me. I want a chair of my own.
"I also preferred Tobolsk," says Tanya.
"I don´t understand why they couldn´t just let us live there," I add. "I see no point in bringing us here. I am sure they saw we were happy there and did what they did just to inconvenience us."
I see Olga roll her eyes discreetly out of the corner of my eye and my heart sinks. My oldest sister used to love my dumb comments and even play along with me, but these past few weeks she has not been the same. It is getting harder to lift the spirits of my family now that we have been imprisoned for almost two years.
"Remember it is all in God´s hands darling," mama says to me. "We may be getting rescued soon, I have faith that is the case".
We continue chatting for a few more minutes.
Suddenly, Yurovsky opens the doors and walks into the room with five other men crowding in behind him. It is very startling. Alyosha straightens his head with such fright that I can´t help but pity him. The newcomers place themselves in front of us. Soon both mama and papa have completely turned their attention back to the door where they all came from.
They should not all be here. The room is far too small for us all! Do they think we will spread wings and fly off if they do not stand within reach to catch us? I am sure Tatiana is thinking the same from the look she is giving these men, as she might like to slap them all. I am certainly for it right about now.
Yurovsky and his hoard do not leave but only stand there. I should like to know what he wants.
"Olga Nikolaevna, Tatiana Nikolaevna, move closer to your mother", the commander begins instructing us. "Maria Nikolaevna, a bit to the right". We do as we are told. "Doctor, a bit to the left... oh, and... Nicholas Alexandrovich, please move towards me a little bit." Papa does as he is told, but the man uses his hand to gesture him to come closer. "A little bit more". Papa obeys.
As we follow Yurovsky´s endless instructions, one of the men starts smiling, but his is a sinister type of smile. It wouldn´t have scared me if I weren't seeing so many men in front of us. All their hands are behind their backs... and where is the camera? I almost gasp. It can´t be... can it? There has to be a trial at least! Is that not how things work? I start praying in my head. I have to be wrong. Please God, let me be wrong or at least give us strength if it really is what my panic-filled mind tells me it is.
"Now it is good", the commander says. "Now we can see everyone".
"Well, here we all are", papa takes another step forward. "What are you going to do now?"
Yurovsky reaches into his pocket and takes out a folded piece of paper. This is so typical. He asks the ones seated to stand up, but only mama is able to obey. I can bet she doesn´t do so without first glaring at the men.
My heart starts beating faster. Yurovsky unfolds the piece of paper with what seems like pleasure and reads out the contents:
"In view of the fact that your relatives in Europe continue their assault on Soviet Russia, the presidium of Ural Regional Soviet has sentenced you to be shot."
Mama falls back on her chair with a gasp. It can´t be. These are the kinds of things that happen to other people. People in the newspapers, historical characters. Not us.
"In view of the fact that the Czechoslovaks are threatening the red capital of the Urals, Ekaterinburg", the wretched man continues, "and in view of the fact that the crowned executioner might escape the people´s court, the presidium of the Regional Soviet, fulfilling the will of the revolution, has decreed that the former Tsar Nicholas Romanov, guilty of countless bloody crimes against the people, should be shot."
"Lord, oh, my God!" Papa stammers as he looks back and forward. "Oh, my God! What is this?"
"So, you are not taking us anywhere?" I hear our loyal friend, Dr. Botkin, inquire in a somewhat confrontational tone of voice. Anna Demidova gasps.
The rest of us are silent. What is this?! I do not understand him. No one does. Is only papa being shot? No, God! Are we all? Please, no!
"I can´t understand you, read it again, please," papa begs him, sounding completely perplexed. Once more he looks back and forward between us and that hateful man, fear manifesting in his wide-opened blue eyes.
Yurovsky complies, sounding quite impatient while reading the second time. I want him to be quiet. I want him to stop. How can this be happening? Who would let this happen to us?!
"Oh, no!" I hear Tatiana exclaim. I hear worried murmurs coming from our two remaining male servants and Dr. Botkin as well. More gasps. Papa steps back and positions himself in front of Alexei, pathetically extending his arm to shield my baby brother and everyone else inside this cursed room, as if his flesh could protect all of us from bullets. All of us still lined up for a photograph that will never be taken. I am paralyzed. I can´t believe this. The pillow I have is like a weight pulling on me.
"What?" Papa cries. "What?!"
The guns in their hands quiver and at once papa begins to say a prayer to God, one I have heard so many times before at church: "Forgive them, father…" I see mama make the sign of the cross. Olga tries too. Forehead. Chest. Right. Left. "For they know not what…"
"This!" Yurovsky shouts. At the same time, it happens. There is no left. The explosion of the first bullet rips not only into papa but my world, which crumbles around me as a louder explosion of more and more gunshots directed at my beloved father. I scream out for him. No one hears me. No one cares now. I can´t even hear myself, not with all the other women around me screaming just as loudly as I am.
I am counting again. It isn´t three but four, five, six… I don't know how many gunshots… so loud, they hurt my ears. All the men are aiming at papa and continue shooting his exploding chest over and over again. The flashes of light and smoke from the guns are too much. I can see papa reeling as blood flows from his back. I want to vomit. I want to scream. I want to cry out for the saints to save us. But no one is coming, I know this.
Suddenly a bullet hits papa in the head and it explodes, his blood is sent spraying across us behind him. My white blouse is covered with beads of red. Papa´s blood-soaked corpse finally collapses on the floor almost at the same time a man takes aim and mama's head jerks violently as she tries to stand. The side of her face explodes. Blood and red tissue spray from mama´s ear onto us crowded at the back. She all but falls on top of herself onto the floor. I stare at her, she is not moving.
Mama is not moving. Papa's body is red and shredded and mama is not moving. The need to throw up is greater. This is too much too soon. How can our dear parents, who were talking to us so lovingly a few seconds before, be those two lifeless, unmoving and bloody things? I cover my face with the pillow and try to hide from the horror of my surroundings, but I cannot block it out.
I cry. My sisters cry. All of us are screaming for papa and mama, but my cries have been muffled by the pillow. Tatiana is hysterically screaming for mama. I hear more gunshots. A bullet flies close to my ear. I feel it. The men have started shooting again. They are shooting at us... right? Are they killing us too? But why?! I am so scared! How much will it hurt? I pull the pillow away from me and see red, only red. I realize that blood has been wiped from my face. I realize my three sisters and I have been coming closer together without even noticing, clinging to each other, slowly sinking into the back of the room. Our screams are almost as loud as the gunshots. I see Botkin on the wooden floor, lying still save his hand, which is desperately groping his surroundings for what I can only guess might be his glasses. I realize it is real, that bullets are flying close by, that nothing has gone away and that the corpses are still there. Mama is still not moving.
Rapid fires hit Kharitonov and I cry out in fear as he collapses on the floor. I should not fear death if it is God's will. I should not. I should not. And yet I can't stop screaming. I can't feel anything but fear. I pull my hair. I shriek. I even beg them to stop just an instant before shots fire and Alexei Trupp falls hard on the ground near Botkin, his face locked in outrageous pain as his body contorts and the blood flows from his legs. A single more bullet grazes his hair and he flinches violently before staying still. Botkin's forehead explodes instead. I know he is dead. Death is everywhere. Death or blood? It has already begun seeping so fast through mama and papa's clothes. It spreads across the floorboards. It hangs in the air with my sisters' constant screams of confused horror.
Another bullet flies nearby. I scream and scream, hugging my sister Maria as tightly as I can, trying to get away from those monsters, away from that pool of crimson water the floor has become, away from the damned bullets, from the corpses... but the stupid room ends. Maria's loving arms and the pillow I hold over our heads like a shield are my only escape.
God, please, make it quick!
Mother and father used to tell us that whatever happens, we have to accept it... oh, mama! My siblings' heads will end up like mama's!
Shots hit the ground, barely missing my feet.
"Mama!" I cry out without knowing why.
The flashes are so bright. The sound is so loud. The smoke is worse every second, spoiling the breathable air, filling my nostrils.
I shouldn't fear death. I shouldn't fear death. We will all meet again in heaven, won't we?!
A bullet grazes my skirt.
"Mama!" I do fear pain. "Mama! Mama! Mama!" Mama come help me.
An explosion of dust falls from behind as bullets rip into the walls. I feel my two oldest sisters scatter. The cloud of dust falls on me and blocks out my view of the guards. It swirls and mixes with the smoke from their deadly weapons. A screen of grey and white settles between us and them. All I want is to hide in it forever, to escape the bullets flying across the room, but the darkness doesn't stop them. One of them hits me in the stomach and only Maria's grasp keeps me from falling. I try to cry out in pain this time. Pain and terror. But I have been left without air.
I sink to the floor despite Masha's best attempts to keep her hold on me. Olga is also lying on the ground. She isn´t moving. Is she dead? I wish I had managed to make her laugh one last time.
A sudden motion occurs beside me and Maria is over to the door at the back. She rattles the handle. I know it will not open for her. Desperate, she slams the palms of her hands again and again on the white wood. The fear is too much. She keeps going.
I can´t breathe at all. I try, I try, and I can't. I try to scream again because it is over. I am going to be leaving Maria and I don't want to. I know I am going to die soon, but the shooting seems to go on forever, the screams seem to go on forever.
Maria begins throwing herself at the immobile doors. She does not stop. The pain in my belly increases and yet the end is not in sight.
"Help! Help, please, somebody help us!" Mashka yells as her entire weight and force are used to hit those doors. Nothing comes of this.
I stare at her in silent awe from my seat on the floor for only a few seconds before I stand up, intending to help her. I trip over Botkin's body on the way and finally manage to scream again. In fear. Panicking, I kick the doctor's body without thinking. That is not him. It is not. There is a hideous hole in his head and blood is pouring out of it. His eyes are wide open but they do not see. I feel sick as I begin to help my sister with the hopeless task. I know I am going to die, so why am I not dead or even bleeding already?
The gunshots haven´t stopped. Anna Demidova is standing beside us, protecting herself with her own pillow. One of the murderers spots her beneath the blanket of smoke. He shoots. Her thigh explodes red and she topples to the floor screaming like a wild animal. She lands in front of us. I gasp, choking down a sob. I hate them. I hate them. How could they do that? I want them gone. Our friends are being brutally murdered for their loyalty, and those horrid demons keep shooting at us!
Now I do try to open the door. I am still alive for some reason and don´t want to die. No. No. The pain is getting worse but the fear doesn't allow me to give up. Knowing the door can´t open just makes me hit it harder. The bullets fly. I defy this. I scream desperately. I want to get away, to escape their horrid need to kill us. Anywhere but here.
Tatiana rushes towards us, maybe to help. I look around just in time to watch as a bullet finds a home right under her chest. Her knees buckle and she slumps to the floor. I scream so loudly for her. Maria crawls to her body. I curse them for what they are doing to us. Our Lord cannot let this truly be happening.
Bullets hit the wall by my head and I sit down quickly to meet Maria, who has given up trying to open the door and is now sitting on the floor, moving back and forward and crying as she holds Tatiana´s body. She looks at me with tears of despair and hatred.
"My God! My God! Nastya, what is happening?" She sobs in labored breaths. I cling to her on the floor and we hold each other, propped against the wall as the men shoot at us still.
Then there is silence. It stops. The shooting stops.
Mashka and I hold our breath, grasping each other's arms tightly. The room is so filled with smoke that the armed men leave. At least, I hear them leave. I allow myself to breathe and pretend for an instant it is over.
But it is not over.
I hear the sobs of my sister Maria, who shakes in my arms. I hear my own sobs. I hear moans and labored breaths. I hear dogs barking. Jimmy. My dog is still alive.
My eyes travel to my older sisters, lying on the ground, to Eugene Botkin and his head, covered in deep crimson. Trupp, Anna, and Kharitonov groan in pain. Tears keep flooding my eyes as I look around my dying family and friends.
Mashka chokes with sobs as she tries to pray out loud by my side.
The place has become very dark with all the smoke, but even through the darkness, I can see the legs of Alexei's chair. I cannot believe he is still sitting. He is unmoving as a statue, using his hands to clutch tightly to the seat. His knuckles are an incredible shade of pure white. He isn´t making a sound, how can he be so calm? I want to know if he is injured, but I am too scared to move. If I move even an inch those evil men will come back as soon as I do. I feel as if they could detect any of my movements.
Tatiana is not dead. She is opening her eyes. I notice Olga is straightening up. She wasn´t dead either and is now looking around at the horror of our surroundings.
Now the wait is almost as torturous as the shooting. I can barely breathe with all this smoke. It smells terrible and I have to take quick deep breaths in order to feel like I have enough air. Tatiana starts praying out loud on the ground.
"God, have mercy on us", she weeps repeatedly. "God, have mercy on us".
I can only hear sobs, prayers, and moans of pain for what seems like seven, six, eight minutes. Maria and I are still holding on to each other. God, my dear God, I don't want my Masha to be killed! I cry out at the thought. My sister, my comfort. I can't take it. If she dies I die. I hug her tighter. I want us to live or die as one.
Olga screams in panic once she recovers from having fainted, lying down to meet Tatiana and clinging to her as if she were drowning. Ortipo runs towards them. I have no clue where Jimmy went.
The smoke in the room seems to have cleared just enough so that the armed men return. Some of them have bayonets instead of guns. Maria gasps and hides behind my body. Only her head leans out constantly to get a glimpse of what is going on.
I recognize one of the men entering the room. The sinister guard with the creepy smile.
I start sobbing so very hard. I cover myself with the pillow again. Useless, just like trying to open the door, but I don't care.
My brother is still sitting on the chair in the exact same position, but I can tell he has already shed his first tears. Feet move for him. I know what they want. I cry out his name, choking on the pronunciation of it, but it is too late. The beast stabs Alyosha with the bayonet, and I scream louder than I ever have before.
What happens next horrifies me more than anything I have already seen. The man has my brother pinned and easily uses his weapon to force him out of the chair. Alyosha extends his arms to avoid falling too hard and sinks awkwardly to the floor where he lies. The glint of the bayonet as it comes down into my brother's body is all I see before it enters his torso. Maria shuts her eyes and howls in anguish at this. Weakly, my little brother tries to fight back, to drive the bayonet away. I start wailing desperately. I continue doing so even after somehow grasping what is really going on.
Jewels guard our flesh. That is why I didn't die. That is why Tatiana didn't die and maybe even why Olga didn't die. It angers those demons that we do not die fast enough. I can see it in the rage of the evil man's thrusts. In his eyes. It is too much, they want us dead sooner. Alexei whimpers in pain and terror, but hasn't given up.
I close my eyes and hide behind the pillow. I can't take it. This is too much. I am not his sister. I am no one. I don't exist. I defy this. Nothing is happening. This isn't happening.
Maria stops howling. I feel her move, and immediately after, I hear her throw up on the floor. All the men have walked past my brother, who is still alive and moaning in pain.
One of them moves towards our old valet, Trupp, who lies injured on the floor. Trupp tries to cover his face but is stabbed in the neck. Tatiana starts screaming again. Still holding Ortipo, she tries to crawl away. Olga is a dead weight who clings to her silently, her eyes wide open in shock.
Maria stands up in a second attempt to open the door, but it is useless. It is locked, and I already have a useless comfort in my pillow. I stay on the ground, shivering in fear, anticipating the inevitable with dread.
The man with the creepy smile, whom I recognize in the darkness only by his teeth, goes over to our cook, Kharitonov.
"Please", our friend begs. I can hear how much pain he is in, how much effort he puts into saying that. He tries to crawl as far away as possible from the monster. But that man cannot be reasoned with. He stabs our cook three times in the chest as if once weren´t enough.
Maria starts hitting the backdoor with her palms desperately. It is pathetic. My heart hurts too much for Alyosha, mama, papa, our friends, poor Kharitonov who taught us how to make bread just days before and is now dead. It is unbearable.
The man then starts walking towards us. I hear Jimmy barking. I know he is barking at the man with the smile, who notices and runs his bayonet through my little dog as well.
I hate him. I cannot breathe. My poor baby brother is still moaning in pain. He is going to die. The acrid smell of the smoke burns my nostrils and the carnage burns its image into my eyes. I gasp for breath as the tears run down my bloodied face. Maria slowly falls back on the floor a second time, her tears leaving tracks as they wash away the plaster and blood on her soft cheeks. We all lie crumpled: legs, arms, feet, chairs, pillows sprawled against the now red floor. The men inch closer from across the room, searching for us who live through the fog.
I hate all of these men. I hate them so much. I wish I could take their stupid weapons and make them feel my pain. I want them to die and not us, it isn't fair.
Olga and Tatiana, forgotten and unharmed against the wall near us, kneel and clutch their hands tightly. They call for our mama. We scream out and moan through the growing silence. We call out for God and salvation. It does not come. Injured and lying on the floor, my brother starts sobbing. He does so louder than any of us, as a small child would.
Hearing us live, the man with the ugly smile begins shooting again at the back walls near Maria and me. Puffs of fresh dust and plaster fly out from the striped, yellow paper and reign down on our heads. He laughs at our screams and coughs.
Someone shoots again. The sparks of guns light up through the smoke. We will not die. The guards sense this and keep approaching. One of them slips in papa's blood and hits the floor. His knees become drenched in the gore. He looks at his hands dripping with blood, and from where he sits, looks forward to see my eyes glaring at him.
His gray eyes convey shock and fear, for an instant even pity. His jaw drops. I feel as if our emotions might mirror each other. I hate him even more now that he understands our suffering and does nothing. I hope he regrets this for the rest of his life.
Suddenly, I hear movements in the room, my eyes flutter. Aniuta is getting up by my feet, smothered in everyone else's blood. She is a hideous creature rising from a swamp of nasty gore. She frightens me horribly.
"Thank God! God has saved me!" She cries out loudly like a crazed gypsy reading a fortune. I can see the delirious look on her face as she stares at us.
All the men in the room turn towards Anya and start bayoneting her. Poor Anna tries so hard to fight back, but is stabbed again and again.
Just like my brother, she tries to grab their weapons, but they only cut thick gashes into her soft hands. Revulsion fills me and I shut my eyes, but I can't shut out the pathetic cries as they stab her with sharp metal. Her cries turn into howls of agony, unbearable to listen to. Most of the men seem just as scared of her as she is of them, but that evil man is grinning.
Olga and Tatiana have witnessed the entirety of the horrifying scene screaming incessantly, hugging each other tightly with Ortipo squeezed in the middle.
I defy this, I don´t want it, I don't want to die like that, I don´t want my siblings to suffer that, oh please help us, Lord. My head throbs. I cannot take this anymore. The uncertainty is unbearable, I would rather die quickly, why do I have to suffer?
Lying down on his belly now, Alexei shakes visibly as he hugs mama and papa, or what is left of them. He strokes mama's blood-soaked hair the way she stroked his just a few minutes ago, as if she could still feel it. Minutes ago. Minutes.
Mama is truly gone. I have been stabbed in the heart. The good memories have been completely stained by the present. She took care of me while I was sick with diphtheria, but now that I am terrified of being stabbed to death she can't comfort me.
The guards continue their relentless assault on Anya, who is no longer moving.
I drift between reality and imagination. What is the difference? What is happening in this room is like some horrible nightmare, one I want so terribly to wake up from. I see Aniuta's concerned smile as she takes care of us during a seasonal cold. I hear her laugh at one of my jokes. Looking again I see the bloodied face of her corpse. She stands still in the middle of her manhandling murderers with a lifeless expression in her eyes, staring at me. I see Tatiana relaxing by the lake in Tsarskoye Selo, winking. I look again and see a mad woman screaming frantically, face and clothes soaked in blood. Other horrid things come to my mind. Olga and I swim in the cold waters of the Black Sea at Livadia. Now she looks as if she had swum in blood, and her wild eyes convey an absolute inability to grasp what is happening around her. All she does is scream for mama and cling to Tatiana. I scream as well. I cough. I pant. I'm drowning. It is so hard to breathe. I am sinking so far beneath the sunlit waves above.
"Stop that already, she is dead!" I hear one of the men order the ones who keep stabbing Anna´s lifeless body. I recognize him as Yurovsky. "Go get the girls."
The men see Olya and Tanya crouching with their arm-covered heads as they scream for our mother. They have spotted their prize. Now they move in for the taking. I stare in silent horror, holding Maria while we both watch as our older sisters attempt to rise from the floor, the blood in their skirts making them weigh more. Tatiana, sobbing and barely able to speak, tries to plead for mercy as she helps Olga up with one arm. I hear her plead for Maria. She pleads for me as well. She even steps back to cover us two with her body.
I see the pigs' evil leader move forward quickly. It happens in a second. He uses the butt of his rifle to hit Tanechka on the side of the head with just enough force that Tanya tumbles. Her hold on both Olga and Ortipo loosens. She drops like an insect. I choke on my tears as one of the men carries Tanya's limp body like a sack across the shoulder and takes her out of the room. She is completely helpless now. My body is wrenched by spasms as I see it happen. What is this? Why didn´t he kill her? How long is this hell going to last?
Olga stares forward, her eyes focused and aware of her surroundings for the very first time in minutes, our parents' and servants' blood painting her face and drenching her blouse in red. As she picks up Ortipo, the evil man with wild eyes viciously kicks her in the stomach. She falls back down but refuses to let go of our beloved sister's dog. Such a stupid thing to worry about now, and yet she doesn´t let go.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Olga yells frantically as another man grabs her by the legs. "No! Please! No!" She starts screaming just as fearfully as she did when the men first began shooting.
Her incessant struggle alarms me further, devouring my entire body with terror. A particularly piercing cry startles me. My sister's face is red, enormously contorted by fear, and swollen. The dog is whining in pain. Olga is becoming hysterical and crushing it too hard.
Are they going to torture us? Is that it?
It doesn´t matter how much Olga resists. In seconds she is being taken out of the room like a sack as Tatiana before her, but kicking and screaming. She somehow manages to keep her hold on Ortipo, who barks as loudly as Olga screams. This might be worse than death.
There is only one man left in the room, the one with the sinister look. He feels us move and quickly stumbles over to us and trips with the blood, dropping to his knees.
He stares at us. We stare at him. In an instant, he jumps and grabs Maria's arm with his satanic hold. He points the same bloodied bayonet he has used to slaughter our servants, Jimmy and Alexei at her. Maria still refuses to submit to this man by letting him take her. She uses all of her body weight to free herself from his grasp, but the brute loses his patience and leans back to throw a punch at Maria's nose. She starts bleeding.
Maria stumbles and puts her hands over her face. I let go of my hold on her as soon as the man hits her in the stomach with his knee, taking advantage of her moment of weakness to put his arms around her waist. I do not want to be a part of this terrible scuffle. I slide away from it.
I am ashamed of having abandoned my sister but unwilling to accept whatever it is they have planned for us. Neither is Maria as each pull is met with eerie resistance.
I defy this. I defy this. I will not let this evil man touch me. I defy this and so I run across the room.
My dark skirt is like a sponge and the blood it has drunk squeezes out as I move, the material spread tight against my bent legs stretching. It is too uncomfortable to run. I feel good about myself for a second before the blood on the floor makes me slip and fall. I land on my hands, which hurts a lot.
Masha yells, cries, moves, and tries to kick the man, but she is soon being carried by the waist outside of the cellar as well. She howls again, is she panicking? Is the force he is using to keep a grasp on her painful? All of this is too much.
I sink my head back into the pillow. I defy this. It is not happening. How could this be happening?
It is happening. Now I am all alone. My hands still hurt from the fall. This is the moment I should be moving to escape but my legs don´t seem to obey me. It is too much fear. My legs are no longer mine, damn them!
As I regain something resembling composure, the smell becomes worse. It is not only blood, tears, and smoke, but also urine and excrement. I notice entrails, brains, and other nastiness lying close, so close to me. There is more of it all around the floor. I don´t know which belongs to whom. I am soaked in blood, so there is no way of even knowing whether any of the filth I am smelling is mine. It could be. I might have been too scared to notice when it happened. I am so sick I could vomit. I have never experienced such horror. I am in such shock I can´t even discern my own emotions. I just exist, and right now, I don´t want to.
Minutes have passed, but they seem hours, years, decades… I should stop trying to count things. No sounds except for the ones made by my whimpering brother, still clinging to the bodies of our parents. I start weeping too, now silently for a change. I consider trying to comfort him, but there is really nothing that could comfort him right now. I consider saying goodbye to my parents just like he is doing, but I can´t.
I have seen dead bodies before in the lazaret, where I visited wounded soldiers with Maria, but this is different. If I see the bodies of my dead parents then they will really be dead. I still want to reach for papa though, I want him to hold me in his arms and comfort me. I want to look into those crinkled eyes before he kisses my forehead. But I remember his body has been shredded with each bullet. Mama must not even have a face anymore.
Do not think about it.
The thought of what my parents´ faces would look like now makes me feel even sicker than before. I have to stand up to empty my stomach in a corner. Now my legs listen.
I am too scared to look at those things or even touch them. I defy that. Those things cannot be my parents.
I am standing, should I run for it now? The blood is everywhere. We are drenched in it. It makes the clothes stick uncomfortably to my skin. My belly still hurts from that bullet. It might not have pierced my skin, but I am pretty sure it has bruised it. I would not be able to run too fast, and I would not abandon Alexei, who can't run at all and must be seriously injured… my God! He most definitely is dangerously injured! What am I going to do?
I am cold and hot at the same time. My throat throbs from the constant screaming and the smell is unbearable. As I kneel again against the bloody wooden floor, I can hear them in the distance calling for sheets. They want to move my parents and friends, but where? And what will happen to me and my siblings now, after what they did to papa and mama?
Alexei makes a particularly pitiful sobbing sound. He then starts calling for mama and papa. This is too much. I still wish I could be in bed, asleep. I can´t stay here though, what if they only plan to kill us in a much more painful way? I stand up once again, pick up my pillow, and touch my brother´s back to catch his attention. He flinches.
"It is me", I whisper. "They are gone! Let´s go!" But he does not move. I put my pillow under my shoulder and grab my brother by the back of his shirt, this time with both hands, pulling lightly at first, then with all my strength. A horribly loud shrieking sound pours from his throat as he clutches pathetically to our father´s coat. He won´t leave papa and mama.
Just at that moment, I hear footsteps and freeze. My heart is now beating so hard I am sure the men will hear it. Part of me clung to the irrational hope that they had forgotten about me and my brother, and we would be able to escape the house and ask for help.
I shake, I am so scared. Whatever they are going to do with us… will it hurt? Will they kill us after? I no longer know what I want the answer to that question to be. And what will happen to our precious Alyosha? Are they going to let him live? He is only thirteen! But I know that thought is ridiculous. These monsters have already murdered a couple in front of their children and stabbed a helpless woman to death, what in the world could stop them from killing a child?
The owner of the footsteps arrives, it is neither Yurovsky nor the other evil guy. It is the man who pitifully looked at us in the eye before, with his own gray ones. He is old, tall, and slender. His white hair is trimmed, and his bony fingers cling around my arm so tightly I am sure it will bruise later. He picks me up.
"Please," I plead like Tanya did, "please tell me where you are taking us, what are you going to do? Are you going to spare us?" He ignores me and tries to grab me by the waist. I drop the pillow for the last time. It can do nothing for me.
My senses are clouded. I am no longer sad nor afraid. I don´t feel anything but anger. I cry out with rage. I cry out for my parents. I cry out as loud as I can.
"Murderer!" I start struggling. "Murderer! Murderer!" He is a murderer, wants me to do as he says, and doesn´t even have the courtesy of explaining what is happening. It is as if I were a chair or even the worthless pillow. I start attacking him. I hit him. I kick him. He still tries to drag me out of the room and then upstairs.
No. I defy this.
"I need help here!" He shouts incredibly loudly to the men upstairs while I keep screaming and hitting him, trying to stop him from grabbing me.
Help does come. Two men, one of which is the man with the smile, enter the room. They look amused by what they see when they enter.
"You can´t overpower the short little fat one, comrade Vaganov?" Says the one with the smile, making the other one laugh. "Grab her by one arm each."
I bite the grey-eyed man in the hand, so hard that he lets go of me. I move for the door.
The sinister man will not stop. Before any of the others can, he catches my hair with his fist.
It hurts so badly! How dare he hold me like this? I hit his arms and try jerking my head from his hands, but it holds fast in his grip. The inevitable is coming. I have seen it happen to all my sisters. I still refuse to give in. I defy this.
"Grab her by one arm each of you!" He screams with a terrifying voice now. He is no longer amused. The two men do as they are told. There is nothing I can do now.
He stands in front of me and stares into my eyes, into my soul, and then slaps me across the face, hard. He draws in closer, and uses that same terrifying voice to threaten me:
"If you don´t behave I am going to skin you alive in front of your pretty sisters upstairs. Are we clear?"
I start whimpering. I believe him. I saw the face of that man as he stabbed our maid, he was smiling. He truly was. I don´t doubt for a moment he is capable of doing what he threatened to do. One of the two men holding me seems to find my whimpers funny, because he starts laughing as soon as the man makes the threat.
The cruel man slaps me again across the other cheek. My entire face stings.
"Are we clear?" He repeats.
I nod. My body goes limp.
I truly hate myself for being the reason these men are laughing. I abandoned Mashka for nothing. I feel embarrassed as well, for looking so weak in front of them. I want them to be the ones crying after what they did to my parents, to our doctor, to our poor maid…
But they did not do anything. I can keep defying it.
I try to pretend I am not part of this world, that nothing is actually happening and no one is laughing at me. My parents aren't dead. This is not me.
They take me upstairs. I can still hear Alexei back in the room crying. I pretend not to.
Trigger Warnings:
-Graphic descriptions of violence.
-Some gore.
-Murder.
-Attempted child murder.
-Gun violence.
-Injuries.
