They saved the body, but not the soul. Confessions of young people who managed to escape from Mariupol

A young girl and a teenager who managed to get out of the besieged Russian aggressors in Mariupol, told their stories to The Guardian:

I died on February 24 at 5.30 am. Veronica, 19 years old

The months before the war were the best in my life. I was a sophomore at the university, one of the best on the stream. I liked playing hockey. On February 23, our coach spoke about plans to create a women’s hockey team to try to get into the professional league. I went to bed so happy.

The next morning, waking up at 5.30, I did not immediately realize that I had been woken up by explosions, not my alarm clock. The bed was shaking from the shock waves.

My mother and I barely understood what was happening. The first few hours sat waiting for it all to end. But the bombing only intensified. We packed our bags and ran to the basement to my grandparents.

From that moment on, I realized that the life I knew was over. Hockey, work, friends, a person I loved very much. Probably that’s why I don’t feel anything anymore: no fear, no pain, no anger, no desire to live. I feel like I died at 5.30am on February 24th.

There was no ventilation or water in the dusty basement. Electricity only for a short time. The four of them ate a piece of bread and sweet twice a day. The basement shook from constant explosions. Our phones have been turned off. It was like an underground box. We had no idea whether it was day or night.

Soon new sounds began to be heard, not immediately realizing that Russian planes were dropping bombs. We were able to hold on to food until March 8, eating moldy bread. Sometimes adults would look up at the sky, at the light, and I would not be allowed.

When the snow fell, we were happy: it was possible to eat and drink. But by that time I was completely dehydrated and no longer felt hungry or thirsty.

My mother and I were given the opportunity to move from the left bank to the city center, which was a little safer at the time. But for reasons I can’t go, only the two of us could leave. Say goodbye to grandparents. I never heard from them again.

Since March 8, they have been hiding in a warehouse on the left bank. Hunger, thirst and cold continued, but we tried not to succumb to mass hysteria. There was a market nearby, and we ran there under bombardment to find the remains of vegetables among the wreckage and burning cars. We risked our lives because of rotten potatoes and carrots!

By March 14, they realized that they could not survive on the meager amount of food and water they could find, so they decided to leave. They found someone with a car and drove out of town. I didn’t care at that moment. To die in a warehouse or in the middle of the road from Mariupol. A few days later we learned that the entire area where we were hiding had burned down.

Eventually we reached Zaporizhia, where it was safe. From there to Lviv. Now we are in a small village in the mountains.

Except for my mother, I don’t know where my family is. Grandma and Grandpa’s house was razed to the ground. Our apartment was probably occupied by Chechen Kadyrovites who are helping the Russians. I get bored when I think about how they touch my children’s photos or my hockey uniform.

Who is responsible for this? Who will apologize? Who will return my stolen life to me? It feels like I don’t exist anymore. I have serious skin problems due to lack of hygiene, and due to dust in the basement I constantly lack air. I no longer have a normal relationship with food.

I could become a refugee, but all I want is to go to the door of my own house, which I will never open again. Although we are safe now, I will never recover from this injury, it will haunt me all my life.

At first I didn’t think it was so serious. Yegor, 15 years old

Martial law meant that the school was closed on February 24. Our family didn’t take the war too seriously. But I decided to get together and move to the center of Mariupol, to my grandmother’s apartment.

When we got to the center, at first everything was fine: no shooting was heard. But my friends on the left bank sent voice messages with the sound of gunshots. A few days later, they started firing near us. We heard and felt every day that the Russians were approaching.

On March 2, they were left without electricity, water and communications. The generators stopped working. Even the air-raid sirens refused. Three days later, the heating was turned off, and we began to freeze. Everyone slept in the same bed, trying to keep warm.

My mother was cooking in the yard of an apartment building. We didn’t even have bread: we made donuts out of water, flour and salt and cooked soups without meat. There was no water.

Then everything became much more dangerous. Many people began to come from the left bank, including teenagers my age. One day I heard a cluster bomb fall 20 meters from me and explode. The Russians say they struck only for military purposes, but many corpses in the streets say otherwise.

We left the city on March 16. While driving around Mariupol, they saw only ruins, destroyed houses, funnels from missile strikes. Black smoke hung everywhere. We decided to leave without knowing about the green corridor, because no one in Mariupol knew about these routes. We find ourselves in a huge stream of people trying to leave.

When we left town, it took us nine hours to drive 20 km. They saw a huge column of tanks, armored personnel carriers, buses and cars with Chechens and the letter Z, which Russia uses as a symbol of war.

We went to the Dnipro in two days. There were about 15 Russian checkpoints along the way: all were stopped and demanded to remove photos of Mariupol, destroyed architecture and destroyed buildings. They wanted to create an impression that did not affect the civilian population.

We are now reunited with my grandparents. The house is warm and cozy, we have light and gas. But I know the war is not over. Each generation has its own times of suffering. Our grandparents knew the war, and now we know it.