The Story of Anna- How I buried my husband with stabbed stomach
Wars left those marks that often become the reason for agony for many people; this story also revolves around a lady who gets raped and loses her husband. My name is Anna, and I am fifty years old. I live in a rural neighborhood 70km (45miles) west of Kyiv. On the beautiful evening of 7 March, the banging door by soldiers took my husband to the prison, followed by his death. At gunpoint, he took me to a house nearby. He ordered me: 'Take your clothes off, or I'll shoot you.' He kept threatening to kill me if I didn't do as he said, and then he started raping me. He was a very young Chechen fighter allied with Russia, and I was thinking that how a soldier can indulge in such kind of non-human yet cowardly act as acting like a woman in this way is an utter form of timed nature. While he was raping me, four more soldiers entered. I thought that I was done for. But they took him away. I never saw him again; I rushed to my house and found her wounded husband. He was bleeding as he was hit by a round of bullets. I took him to the hospital, but he was not survived, and the bullets part our ways. I am still trying to tell the history as my deep wounds are still fresh due to the injustice with my naïve husband; we were the victims of war horrors. I kept my husband in my backyard in the form of his grave, my neighbors, and me. The death of my husband was a nightmare, and I took medical support in order to get out of the trauma. However, it was temporary, and I am still suffering from it. No one is good in my story, as the soldiers who saved me also looted my house by pointing their guns at me. When they left, I found drugs and Viagra. They would get high, and they were often drunk. Most of them are killers, rapists, and looters; however, some of them have little humanity in their hearts. My story had another episode in the exercise of another woman who was the victim of rape by the same man.
The forty-year-old woman was gone through the same pain as mine as she dragged from her house nearby, whose occupants had evacuated when the war began. The well-decorated room, with ornate wallpaper and a bed with a golden headboard, is now a disturbing crime scene. There are large bloodstains on the mattress and duvet. The mirror with a note written in lipstick appears to suggest where the victim was buried. The neighbor, named Oksana, found the woman's body and buried her. They told me she had been raped and that her throat was either slit or stabbed, and she bled to death. They said there was a lot of blood, and the poor woman was buried in a grave in the garden of the house. The painful part for me is that the autopsy of the body of the woman unveiled the story of brutality as the body was found without clothes and with a deep, long cut across the neck.