Chapter 2
SERGEI VOLKOV
24th January 1933
Dear Diary,
I believe Andrzej didn’t like the idea of me going to Germany, not sure why – it’s a perfect example of post-war society! (AKA – more tragic poetry from me!)
My eyes drifted from the pages to the beautiful, rehearsed dance of browns, blues and white, as the train calmly made its way back to Russia. Back... home...
I could already hear the screams of rowdy, restless children. It was a horrible, cramped house with no chance of peace, but I didn’t have much other choice, unless I wanted to leech off Andrzej for the rest of my life. Either way, I wouldn’t be staying long. I looked down at my diary and went back to writing:
They failed a revolution, but I’m sure there’s still time, especially as the war is well out of the way now! I think I can help them, I’ve studied Trotsky, thanks to my Mama and my favourite brother, Nikolai. I think that’s what they need: Trotsky!
A low whistle rung out through the train as it came to a halt, the gentle white replaced with harsh grey brick. Crowds gathered at the station, clambering onto the train, or waiting for loved ones. Shoulders and bags brushed me from either side as I waded my way through to the town and back to the depressing buildings – back home.
A few knocks and Nikolai was at the door, pushing his glasses up his nose and holding his arms out, but I avoided their embrace.
“Ah, there you are! I started wondering if you’d ever come back! How was it? How’s Andrzej?” Nikolai’s eyes rested on dark bags, but he kept a small smile on his face. My two youngest siblings – the twins – clung to his sleeves and watched me with big owl-like eyes.
“It was fine, it was the usual experience... His family still think Russians are monsters. Andrzej was okay, he’s doing well.”
Nikolai narrowed his eyes and let out a quiet chuckle, “Is that all? I’m not convinced. Usually you’re rambling away about how lovely Andrzej is, did something happen?”
I could feel every pair of eyes burning into my skin as I mumbled.
“Nothing happened, nothing new. Andrzej is the same. I told him about my plans to visit Germany and he wasn’t happy about it. He told me he heard rumours and wants me to stay away, but I don’t want to stay away! This is my chance to find some great inspiration and become a real poet!”
Nikolai sighed, before placing a gentle hand on my back. This earned him a whine from one of the kids, who lost her grip.
“I’m sure he’s just looking out for you. You’d do the same for him.”
I stood there silently. Would I do the same?
“I don’t think I would,” was the answer I settled on, “I would tell him to go for it! We’ve seen so many more dangerous things, a poor country isn’t that bad.”
Nikolai seemed to give up on arguing, dragging the two twins back along to the living room, while I clambered up the stairs to find my room. Well – our room.
Pushing open the green door revealed a cramped space, with beds stacked on top of beds, along with sofas which folded out into beds. A few of my other siblings congregated on one of the folded-out sofas, helping each other in studying for their classes. Carefully, I dropped my bag against one of the bunk beds, slowly shuffled into the nook and picked up a book to read. Or at least try to read. As soon as I got comfortable, I felt an annoying tapping on my shoulder. One of my oldest sisters crouched down, arms crossed. Her softer curls swooped down on either side of her face, while the rest was covered by a flowery scarf.
“What’s this? Coming home after God knows how long and not even saying hello? Where were you this time? America? Japan?”
“Poland.” Was all I could say, before another sister sneered.
“I bet it’s that boyfriend of his!” Clearly, she could see my cheeks heating up, as she instantly burst into laughter.
The sheets beneath me made their way between my fingers as her laughter became a loud hum. The world span, but I fought against it, rushing to my feet and launching myself towards her, soon my hands found fistfuls of hair and tugged. The rest was a blur, before I felt hands pulling me back and my ears could finally pick out what was being said.
“Sergei, my God, stop trying to kill your sister!” Nikolai’s hands rested on my face and patted my hair, “What happened?”
My throat was filled with honey, sticking it shut and all I could do was shake my head. Slowly, my eyes met my sister’s, full of fear, a red mark around her neck. I didn’t remember doing that – I couldn’t have. So, I shook my head again.
“You freak! Why did Mama keep you around? She should’ve left you to die in the snow the moment she heard about any schizo-whatever*!” Her voice was filled with pain and terror and I didn’t even recall inflicting it. Nikolai rubbed my back, but the honey stayed stuck and I stayed silent.
I was a monster.
An unknowing monster.
----------------------
Milk and honey,
Sickly sweet.
War and terror,
At your feet.
Grow up, darling
Rise up, soldier
We’ll be waiting at home
And you’re never getting older.
----------------------
*Childhood schizophrenia was the name given to autism in the past