My shift at the store just ended, and I met a woman who gave me piroshki. It's like bread filled with meat or mashed potatoes, and it's really good when it's warm.
She said that if it doesn't sell at the end of the day, we can take it home. I ate three out of four and have one left; I will eat it later.
I finally go to my house; I really need to take a shower, but as soon as I get close to it, I see people—men, to be more specific.
I get shivers because they are tall and muscular; it's not like I have somewhere else to go and it's cold outside.
What do they want now, or who even are they? I paid this month's payment.
I took out my phone and decided to call my coach and ask if I could practice a little. I can't say straightforwardly that I want to spend the night there.
I make my way to the building.
"What are you doing here?" the guard asks.
"Sveta said that an important competition is coming up and I should practice more. I will be quiet, I promise."
He sighs and looks at me. "Okay, fine, but I'm doing this because it's you; don't tell anyone."
I smile at him and go inside. It's so warm in here; I ate today, can use the gym shower with hot water, and can sleep in a warm place; it's like heaven.
I take a shower and lay in a corner. I take a deep breath as tears fall from my eyes. It feels so good to be in a warm place.
I have never lived in a place where you can eat whenever you want or have warm rooms.
Both of my parents are drug addicts, so it was never good to be home. It was never good to be alive with those kinds of people.
They would do anything for a little dose of powder, and when I say anything, I mean things that no parent should do to a person or a kid who you gave birth to.
I try not to think about it and enjoy the warmth that I get to feel today. I inhale the air and smile to myself when my lungs get filled with warm air instead of a freezing one that makes you shiver.
Soon enough, peaceful sleep came that I hadn't had in years.
~~~
"Is she dead?" I hear someone say:
"I don't know."
"Let's take a picture of her," she giggles.
Oh hell no
I stand up and hear gasps.
"Hi," I greet, but they walk away, ignoring me.
"Get up and practice," my coach says to me.
So I do some stretches, and after 15 minutes, we start to practice.
"I don't like it," she says.
"Should I do it again?"
"Do I even have to say it?"
So I do. I need to do this. She's very strict, but she has known me for years. My uncle made me go to gymnastics for the wrong reason.
He said that gymnastics will give me body shape that I will be thankful for.
I was just a kid and couldn't understand what he meant, but when I grew up, he made me hate my body type.
Yes, it is that kind of body that everyone dreams of, but even now I still feel hands on my body. Their grip makes me feel tight in my own body and makes me want to rip my skin off.
I took a five-minute break and started to eat yesterday's piroshk. It's cold, but it's food.
"Do you really think you need that?" the coach says.
"Please." I look at her with glossy eyes. Whenever she sees me eat, she makes me feel guilty. Little does she know that most days I do not eat. She also doesn't know what situation I am in and is not planning on telling her.
It will hurt more if she knows and treats me the same.
I continue to eat, but it's hard to swallow.
"Get up, now, one more time, come on!" she shouts
I do as she says.