His-Story

This is a story about Borya, a young Russian boy who at age five was a victim to sexual assault. This story shows the effects the event had on him and how he was able to use it to turn his life around

Key:
Borya- Fight, Battle, War
Dobriy den- Good afternoon
Koldunchiki- Freeze tag
His-Story



How do I tell of a story so gruesome, so unbelievably drenched in emotion, that no possible human can ever began to comprehend? The sad reality is I can’t, for no one would believe, no one could understand, and no one could ever relate. Instead, let me tell you a different story, of another person, but with a similar struggle…
Once upon a time there lived a Russian boy by the name of Borya. Borya had and continues to have a life of hardship and pain. He has had to fight through these struggles, his whole life, but it is what has shaped him into the person he is. They say your past does not define who you are, but I believe that it can if you allow it. Whether it’s good or bad the choice is in your hands, and Borya used his past to make him the best possible person he can be. You see, at age five Borya was a victim of sexual abuse. One cold afternoon Borya gathered up all his friends to play a game of Koldunchiki. This was one of their favorite games to play, in fact, at two thirty every afternoon, Borya and his friends would gather to play Koldunchiki. This day in particular was one that changed little Borya forever. As Borya and his friends were nearing the point of exhaustion from the constant running of their game, they made the executive decision to go home. They were to rest for a bit in the warmth and security of their homes and come back to continue their game. Without hesitation and with the sole thought of a steaming pot of beef stroganoff, sizzling on the stove, he started his journey home. Within three minutes of his stroll Borya was stopped by an intimidatingly built, fair skinned, tall redheaded lady who was now hovering over him like a massive dark shadow.
“Dobriy den” he said out of respect and common courtesy, but the woman said nothing and stared back at him with a menacing smile. Just as Borya was about to push past this frightening woman, she grabbed him by the shoulder and pinned him to an abandoned half constructed wall. Borya started to panic. He wanted to scream, to run, to fight back, anything to rid himself of her death grip, but he was completely frozen. You see lots of people say the two natural human instinct is fight or flight, but let me tell you there’s three; fight, flight, or freeze. Poor Borya froze. He couldn’t even cry because he was so startled, so scared, and so confused. Next thing he knew the woman was demanding that he take off his clothes. He was too paralyzed by the drastic turn of events to even blink, let alone obey her orders.
“Take off your clothes!” the woman repeated. He stood still. He couldn’t move. Due to the lack of response from Borya the woman took it onto herself to rid him of his clothing. Still pinned to the wall, still confused, and beyond frightened he stood, frozen. Frozen like a marble statue, frozen in time, frozen in an inescapable moment, an unforgettable moment slowly getting etched in his brain like the fine details of the Sistine Chapel. All the sudden she began to draw nearer, and in the blink of an eye he was in contact with her body. She forced herself onto Borya unpinned him from the wall and began tracing her knurly, pale finger over Borya’s fair skin, running her hands through his hair and kissing his shivering lips for her enjoyment. Then it was over. She unattached herself from his body, and without so much as a glance, she was gone. She had gotten all that she needed. The sick, twisted woman was satisfied. Through all that not a single person passed, no one to help him escape that ugly situation, so eventually he blamed himself…
Nine years later and he still hasn’t spoken of that traumatic event to anyone. Nine years later and he still blames himself. Nine years later and the details still come back to haunt him. Nine years later he feels no one will believe him. Nine years later he starts to believe it was probably not real. Nine years later he developed an eating disorder. Nine years later he becomes suicidal. Nine years later he was admitted into the hospital. Nine years later he mustered up the courage to tell his story, and he was believed, he was taken care of, and he was loved. Nine years later he was free. Free of that nightmare that now doesn’t haunt him, but instead motivates him. Free of that parasitic memory that ate him up inside all these years. Free to live the rest of his teenage years away from his hometown, away from that nightmare, and towards a better future. A future where he can tell his story and make a difference. 

Author's Note

This is based off a true event in my life and I would really like to speak to people through this. Please tell me what you think and if I made any errors, please comment because this is the first real story I've ever written. I'm open for constructive criticism.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A sad story written. Abuse of children is a deadly act. I liked the honest thoughts leading to positive ending. Thank you for sharing the powerful story.
Coyote