Poor Masha or a prisoner’s confession

The piano
I was born into a normal working-class family: my father was a fisherman, my mother a warehouse clerk in a kindergarten. Besides me, my parents were raising my older brother.
But my mother divorced when I was 3 years old. She married another man, took me with her, and left my brother with our grandmother. And then we even moved — we exchanged our home with a top-up payment — and acquired a 4-room apartment (the 2-storey house where we lived before has now been converted into a synagogue).
In the new apartment, to my misfortune, a piano remained ‘by inheritance’ from the old owners. My stepfather, so that the ‘good would not go to waste’, hired a tutor for me — to teach me how to play the musical instrument. I was not very successful at it. The female tutor made it interesting, but my stepfather forced me, which killed any desire I had.
I attended the ‘zero’ grade at the kindergarten, and primary school from the age of 8. My stepfather nagged me to study, but I liked it myself — I was an ‘A’ student until the 3rd grade. And when I jumped to the 5th, new teachers appeared; on top of that, frequent colds started, and as a result, I started to study worse. I wanted to go out and play, but my stepfather refused point-blank: ‘There is nothing to be gained from catching bacteria, sit at home, do your homework, play the piano!’. I never argued, I listened to my stepfather.
In the 5th-6th grade, he took me to school and back every day. People laughed at me, I shut myself off, sometimes I would run to my grandmother’s.
My stepfather was tall, gloomy, and taciturn. He did not shout, he did not beat me, but he constantly forced me to ‘study and study’. He had no children of his own. He worked as an engineer at a silicate plant. He was 20 years older than my mother. My mother is beautiful, fair-haired, and she did not argue with him. I complained to my mother, but she said: it must be this way.
My stepfather believed that toys were unnecessary — they ‘clutter the brain’; if he found any (I used to bring them from my grandmother’s), he would throw them away. I cried and hid so he would not see me resenting him. And my mother walked away so as not to see.
He scolded me for bringing kittens or puppies home. When I was about 3 years old, I found a ginger kitten, nursed it back to health, kept it in a box, and fed it. One morning, the kitten climbed out and crawled under the wheel of my stepfather’s car, which was parked in the yard (a white ‘kopeyka’). My stepfather was going to the car in the morning, I screamed, I wanted to take the kitten, but he pushed me away, started the engine, and drove off. He crushed the kitten right before my eyes. ‘It is not needed by you — it is dirt!’, — that is what my stepfather always said.
I love animals very much, especially dogs. My grandmother (my father’s mother) always had a lot of dogs.
And my brother became jealous — since my mother took me and not him, it meant she loved me more, so he did not even want to talk to me.
From good memories: our whole family used to go to the river and to the forest for mushrooms (I have never been to the sea). But every year I went to a sanatorium in the Carpathians...
When I was 10 years old, my stepfather started to drink. 57,000 Soviet roubles ‘burned’ on the savings bank book — and he started drinking heavily. He began to ‘throw fits’ and pick on me; my mother started to stand up for me, and we often left for my grandmother’s (mother’s mother) in the village.
At 11 years old, in the evening, I ran away in just my slippers from my stepfather, who was beating me with a flyswatter to make me play the piano.

The black cat
I found a cat, it was sick — its paw was broken. I hid it for a month. One day my stepfather quarrelled with my mother, he even beat her, she grabbed me in the night — and we went to my grandmother’s. I only remembered about the cat in the morning, but... 3 or 4 days later we returned and saw such a ‘scene’: my stepfather is sitting in the hall (his room) and talking to the cat. Drinking and crying... This cat lived with us for 6 years. Its name was Marsik, and my stepfather complained to the cat about the government, because of which the money had disappeared...
He went on pension and tried to find normal work, but... he drowned his grief in wine.

Adult life
I finished 9 grades. I liked all the lessons, but most of all — world literature, especially the life stories of the writers themselves. At school, I drew, and even tried to write poetry. But I did my homework at school — it was impossible at home — my stepfather would interfere, bother me, and give instructions. I would sit in class and think: what awaits me at home? Finally, they gave me my certificate...
In the summer after the 9th grade, it happened... I had been seeing a boy for a few years — the son of my mother’s classmate. And I got pregnant.
My mother insisted that I get rid of the child — I refused point-blank. After all, at 14, I had accepted repentance in the ‘Testament of Jesus Christ’ church. I did not even have the thought of an abortion.
I was 16 — there was 1 month left until I turned 17. He was a year older. When our daughter Ruslana was six months old, we got married. Then our second daughter, Kateryna, was born. My husband went to work at a slaughterhouse and started drinking...
One day, when Ruslana was a little over 3 years old, I had to go to the store for groceries. My daughters were left with my husband and my brother. They were drinking — and were not watching: Ruslana spilled hot lard on herself — and suffered burns to her head... I still reproach myself. She had to undergo skin grafting surgery and a plastic surgery operation.
After this, I finally left my husband. I put the girls in kindergarten and got a job. I worked in a restaurant kitchen. I did everything: washed dishes, cooked, and stood behind the bar. I was pulling through on my own, but my salary was not enough. I started to take on extra work — selling vegetables at the market.
I filed for divorce, but the case dragged on so much — and I never saw it through to the end.

The crime
I met a man (his name is Viktor) with whom things were good — he treated me and the children well. We started living together. He said: stay at home, I will provide! I agreed.
It seemed that life was getting better. But my mother intervened — ‘eternally young, eternally drunk’. She had divorced my stepfather in 2002. She lived in the regional centre, and we were in the suburbs — in my late father’s house.
I remember that terrible day as if it were happening now. On 24 November 2007, my mother came to visit us along with her lover. He had always been normal and calm before. But not that evening...
They were drinking: my mother, her ‘friend’, and my Vitya. I refused, but ‘supported the process’ a couple of times.
In the morning, Ruslana needed to be taken for a dressing change; it was time to go to sleep. She started to cry. I called a taxi to take the guests away. My mother had fallen asleep. The car arrived. Vitya dragged my mother’s drunk lover to the taxi. He took offence: ‘Are you kicking me out?!’
I remained in the room, I heard the crash of dishes breaking on the veranda. I went in and saw: my Vitya was being strangled by my mother’s ‘friend’. I screamed, I pulled him by the hair, but he had a ‘hedgehog’ haircut — I couldn’t get a grip, I grabbed his ears — it didn’t help. I could already hear Vitya wheezing. There was nothing to ‘hit’ the attacker with — there were only 2 washing machines nearby. The strangler pushed me in the chest — I flew back, shattered the window glass. Next — I grabbed whatever came to hand, I struck — he ‘jolted’ me again, I struck again in the left side — the knife went in. Later they established the time: 23:47.
I pulled out the knife, threw it away, and ran to call the ‘Ambulance’ and the police. For some reason, I immediately decided that I had killed him.
The murdered man was a Moldovan, the only son in the family. How will I look his mother in the eyes?
They sent me to the pre-trial detention centre. My ex-husband was stripped of his parental rights, and my grandmother — my mother-in-law — became the temporary guardian (for 4 years).
Vitya was afraid of being imprisoned — I took everything upon myself — and he disappeared from my life.
Under Part 1 of Article 115 of the Criminal Code, they gave me 5 years.

In prison
In the colony, I finished vocational school — I mastered the profession of a seamstress. I learned the skills of a painter-plasterer. These skills, of course, will be useful in everyday life when I am free.
Now I am no longer as naive as I was before — I have ‘grown some armour’. I realised that before doing something responsible, one needs to think well. I can answer for myself now.
I will get out, I will come home, and immediately pick up the children. Ruslana has moved to the 4th grade. Katya started the 1st grade this year.
In the colony, I have 3 letters of commendation. I communicate with relatives and acquaintances — I am looking for work. My dream is to get the children on their feet. I believe that I still have everything ahead of me. I pray for my children.

Expert commentary
Oksana Kravchuk, psychologist-methodologist of the Centre for Methodological Work with Managerial Staff of the communal Higher Education Institution ‘Kharkiv Academy of Continuing Education’:
Cruel treatment of children and constant emotional abuse often form socially maladjusted people who find it difficult to create a full-fledged family.
The most dangerous thing is that violence has very serious negative social consequences. It breeds a sense of helplessness, insecurity, hopelessness or powerlessness; self-blame, a lack of self-respect, spinelessness; intrusive memories, panic attacks, depression, thoughts of suicide; a loss of trust in people, doubts about believing in anything; drug/alcohol addiction; a thirst for revenge.
What can be done to prevent cruel treatment of children and domestic violence? Who must stop the cycle of abuse? This, in the first place, can and must be done by the mother and father! In our case, the abuser is the stepfather, but the mother, unfortunately, could not break the violent relationship and protect her child.
Which led to the tragic consequences in Masha’s life.

Yes, Masha has suffered a lot. In the colony, she had time to think and repent. Recently, Masha was released on parole. Let us wish the young woman that everything works out well for her in freedom, and that the psychological traumas inflicted upon her in childhood do not ruin her life in the future.