"I woke up on the pavement": How do people live who suffered an attack
In 2017, almost 10 thousand were registered in Russia murders and attempted murders, 3.5 thousand rapes and attempted rape and about 57 thousand cases of robbery. Judging by a poll by the Institute of Law Enforcement at the European University, about 8% of Russians have become victims of crimes in the past year.
Anyone can come across violence, regardless of gender, age, social status and precautionary measures. If a person survived a surprise attack in a place that had previously seemed safe to him - on the street or in the subway - this can greatly affect his life, heighten the feeling of anxiety and fear. These problems often remain unsaid - it is embarrassing for many to complain about psychological discomfort, and besides, everything has been done “well”, “they have not killed anyone”. We talked with several people who were attacked, about how it affected them, and whether they managed to cope with the injury.
Interview: Julia Dudkina
Valentina Ingsots
translator
In August 2018, I was driving home from work and on the escalator on the subway I heard two men behind me screaming very loudly. At first I did not pay attention, but then I listened and realized that they were shouting nationalist slogans. It became very unpleasant for me: one thing is when people just make noise, another thing is when they show xenophobia. I turned to them and asked to stop. One of the men - big and shaven - laughed in my face. I realized that trying to talk to him was useless, and turned away. And then he began to beat me. Of course, I was shocked: I could not even imagine that the person to whom I just made a remark could rush at me with his fists.
I shouted loudly "Help", but no one paid attention. Only downstairs, when we already got off the escalator, a young man stood up for me, who heard my screams. The man who beat me started threatening him with a knife and eventually disappeared into the car with his companion. Then I spent a few hours at the police station, then went to the emergency room. My head ached, but no concussion revealed - only abrasions and bruises. When I finally got home, it was already morning. I fell on the bed and slept for a long time.
The next day I woke up in a panic. The headache didn’t go away, the phone was breaking - one after another, the journalists called, who read everything in social networks and asked questions. I could not muster the strength to just eat. I had to go to the pharmacy for medicines and buy groceries, but I could not bring myself to go out. It seemed that something would happen there with me: someone would attack me, kill me. The reality I was accustomed to was transformed, became unpredictable: I suddenly realized that anything could happen to me at any moment and I could not control it in any way. As soon as I thought about getting out of the house, an irrational, animal fear appeared. I used to live with increased anxiety, but I have not yet experienced such horror.
Now I’m not sure that I can continue so bravely to get involved in conflict situations
A friend helped me out: he came to my house, brought food and medicine. For an hour and a half, we just sat and talked about what had happened. In the evening I decided to leave the apartment: we called a taxi and went to the concert, where our friends performed. There were a lot of my friends there, they all hugged me, spoke words of encouragement, treated me. It helped me a lot: when someone supports you, the world seems not so scary.
But the story is not forgotten. For several days I hardly went to work and constantly scrolled through the scenarios in my head: what will I do if they attack me right now. I imagined it over and over again and thought about how I would fight back and where to run. After the media talked about what happened to me, I received several threats on social networks. I was afraid, but what if the person who beat me belongs to a criminal gang, and now I'm being tracked down? I knew with my mind that, most likely, this is not so, and the messages come to me simply from Internet haters. But anxiety is irrational, and it is not easy to get rid of it.
A few weeks later I felt better. The support of friends and elementary care for myself helped: I tried to sleep more, eat well, indulge myself with something. Probably, each person has his own ways to “fix” himself, to calm down: someone is lying in the bath, and someone is going for a massage. I listened to my desires, tried to surround myself with comfort, and gradually the horror went away.
But some consequences still remained. The world around me in general now seems more dangerous to me. Now I’m quietly going out into the street, but if I see a bearded bald man in the crowd, I’m starting to get nervous. Before, I did not even notice that there were a lot of such men around. Once a man with a similar appearance was driving with me in a subway car, and I got off at the nearest station. I understood that it was hardly the one who attacked me. But I still felt uneasy. I also no longer take part in the discussions, if the topic of nationalism pops up in them: I immediately begin to lose my temper, shout, even if it is a peaceful conversation.
After what happened, I asked myself many times: was it worth it for me to enter into dialogue with that man on the escalator? I am such a person in life: I never pass by if I see injustice or I need help on the street. But now I’m not sure that I can continue to so bravely get involved in conflict situations. In the comments to the news about the attack, many people wrote: "Why did she even get to him?", "It is my fault." They will probably be happy if they read this text.
The man who attacked me was eventually found, but brought only to administrative responsibility. And this is despite the fact that the police have testimony of a young man whom he threatened with a knife. At first, the police were completely inactive, and we with a lawyer filed a complaint with the prosecutor's office. It turns out that anyone can attack you in a public place, and it is very difficult to attract a person to punishment and protect his rights. When you think about it, the world seems even more dangerous.
Maria Gorokhova
businesswoman
In 1995 I was twenty years old, I lived in a Khrushchev on the first floor and did not at all assume that something could happen to me in my house. Once I came back from work. It was not late - about seven o'clock in the evening. When I approached the entrance, I noticed that a young man was following, but I did not think that he could be dangerous. I knew that my dad was at home, and one of my neighbors probably smoked in the stairwell. And besides, I believed that maniacs and robbers attack only those who walk at night.
The guy followed me into the porch, caught up with me on the stairs and put a rag with some kind of liquid on my face. I sat down sharply, so the rag slid over my eyes. I understood that the main thing was not to inhale this substance. The attacker tried to tilt my head back and again to close my nose with a rag, I struggled to grab my hands on the railing, and pressed my chin to my chest. The fight lasted about forty seconds. I started to scream loudly, and eventually the guy ran away. The first thing I experienced was a feeling of terrible humiliation and resentment because a person applied force to me simply because he wanted to.
The next morning my eyes turned into slits - they were swollen and reddened by the liquid with which the rag was soaked. The palms were blue due to the fact that I clung very tightly to the railing of the stairs. The sense of humiliation was replaced by fear. Dad and I went to the police to write a statement. There we learned that a girl from a neighboring house in the morning was found at a bus stop, half-naked, in a state of shock, with a cut face.
I still do not enter the elevator with anyone - even if he stops on the floor and a neighbor enters, I leave immediately
After this incident, I recovered fifteen years. For years, I could not ride in a crowded subway and could not stand it at all when outsiders touched me. It was scary for me to enter any, even the brightest staircase, and for a long time I could not do it alone. In the evenings, dad went to meet me from the subway, and if I went to visit, I asked the owners to come down to me.
Five years later, my husband and I moved to a separate apartment, and I had to return from work alone - he finished later. Every time I went home by bus, I mentally tune in to the fact that I would need to enter the entrance. She tried to persuade herself, encouraged: "You just need to climb the stairs, everything will be fine." As I approached the house, I began to behave like a spy: I looked around if anyone was following me, trying to look into the windows of the entrance - to check if it was empty. Long stood in front of the door. Recalling that long-standing story, I thought: maybe that guy would not follow me to the porch, if I had somehow reacted to him, stopped? Perhaps this was my mistake? I tried not to let her in again.
I know it is impossible to save yourself from everything. However careful you are, you still do not know what will happen to you in the next second. But when you are standing in front of the entrance door and you do not dare to enter, reasonable arguments do not work on you. You just can't force yourself to step over fear, that's all.
I think this story has greatly influenced my life. When you start to fear a lot, you become squeezed. Once again you do not risk going somewhere, to meet someone. I think I could be more open and easy-going if I didn’t have fear in me. Perhaps a psychologist could help me. But in 1995 the services of such specialists were not accepted. In addition, all the others rather calmly reacted to this story. They sympathized with me, but no one acted as if something terrible had happened to me. Maybe at the time there were so many nightmares in the news that it was difficult to surprise people. Or maybe, against the background of the neighbor, who was found half-naked and chopped up, it seemed that I had got off easy.
Now I'm not so scared. Since I was forty years old, I began to think that the most dangerous age has passed and now hardly anyone will need to attack me. True, I still do not enter the elevator with anyone - even if he stops on the floor and a neighbor enters, I leave immediately. But such a panic, as before, no longer feel. True, now there is another problem. My daughter is fifteen years old, and I fear terribly for her. If I can't get through to her, I immediately get nervous, imagine all sorts of horrors. Because of this, I can even shout at her. I understand that I do this not out of anger, but because I can not cope with anxiety. And I explained this to her too, so that she did not think that I want to offend her.
Masha Karagodina
producer
I often linger at work until late and then go home on foot: calling a taxi every time is expensive, and I like to walk. Once, six years ago, I once again returned almost at night. It was in a decent area of Moscow, so I was not scared. Out of habit, I cut off the path and went through the square. Suddenly a man came from somewhere - big, strong and with rabid eyes. He pressed me against the wall of the nearest building and dragged me around the corner. I was in a stupor: opened my mouth to scream, but I could not make a sound. I didn’t understand if this was really happening to me, or if I was in some kind of nightmare. It seemed that my body exists separately from me and I observe it from the side. When the man began to touch my legs, I tried to enter into dialogue with him. She said something in the spirit: "Let's talk, I will understand everything, tell me what happened." He did not react to anything, only muttered: "You make a sound, bitch, I will kill."
A few seconds later I saw a guy on the road - he had just parked and got out of the car. I realized that this is my only chance, and shouted: "Help!" The guy heard, took out a baseball bat and went to us. The man rushed to run. Nobody overtook him. The young man who saved me, it seems, was not particularly impressed by what had happened - he took me to the doorway, asked if I needed any more help, and went about his business.
To some extent, my life has even become more meaningful. Once you are in serious danger, you often begin to think about yourself and other people.
At home I sat in the kitchen and poured myself brandy. If up to this point everything seemed to be happening not to me, now I “turned on,” and horror rolled at me. I drank and did not get drunk. I slowly realized what danger I had just escaped.
After that, for a while, I was afraid to walk in my district. I was always afraid to meet that man again. For some reason it seemed to me that he could track down where I live, and now pursue me. My acquaintances convinced me that I had met by chance on his way and that any one of them could have been my place. Gradually, I calmed down and began to think more rationally. And when summer came, in the evenings it became brighter and calmer. Later, I moved to another area, and the fear finally disappeared.
Now I calmly walk at night. True, entering the staircase, just in case, I squeeze the key in my pocket and carefully close the door behind me, I do not enter the elevator with strangers. Sometimes, if on the street or, for example, on a train, I find myself next to a stranger and I'm scared, I try to start a conversation with him. It helps to reduce anxiety - to make sure that he is the same person as me, and does not pose a danger. Despite the story that happened to me, I think that rapists and robbers are more of an exception to the rule, and most people around do not want to hurt me.
To some extent, my life has even become more meaningful. Once you are in serious danger, you often begin to think about yourself and other people, look to them. You value your own comfort and safety more.
Of course, when you are being attacked on the street, you begin to better understand that the world is very unpredictable and anything can happen to you at any moment. But if you walk and constantly expect it, the probability of an accident will not decrease, and your nerves will be exhausted. So I try once again not to worry about the fact that I can not change.
Ekaterina Kondratyeva
marketer
Once, when I was still in school, I was returning home after consulting my final exams. My family and I then lived in a dormitory at the plant, so all the neighbors were familiar with each other and I was never afraid to enter the front door. In addition, it was about two o'clock in the afternoon - it would seem, not a dangerous time.
When I began to climb the stairs, I saw that a man in working clothes was walking towards me. I decided that he went to have dinner with someone from the neighbors - a common thing. But when we reached him on the landing between the first and second floor, he walked around behind me and covered my mouth with his hand. I shoved him with my elbow, freed my face and began to yell with all my might. He shouted "Shut up!" and hit me. But I did not shut up, so he rushed to run - I saw out of the window, as he jumped out of the front door. I did not have serious injuries, only a broken lip.
Mom hasn't come home from work yet, so I started knocking on my neighbors. They immediately rushed to look for the attacker, but they did not find him near the house. We went to the police to write a statement and there we met a woman who was attacked on the same day by a man similar in description. She said that when he grabbed her, she fell into a stupor and could not even scream. I then thought: "Strange, how can you be silent and not fight back in such a situation?"
Whether the police began to look for this man, I do not know, but I met him several times on the street. As if nothing had happened, he passed by and hardly recognized me, but I was shaking every time.
I could not laugh, nor get angry and shove her off. I just cried
Now I was afraid to go back home. Going into the front door, I squeezed the keys in my hands in order to fight back if they attacked me. When I left, my mother checked out the window if I went outside. In the evening she went to the stairs to meet me. Once in the front door, I saw someone's shadow and screamed with fright. It turned out that it was a neighbor.
About six months later, a new story happened. I was visiting a friend who lived on the floor below. That evening, she gathered a whole company, we watched TV. Suddenly it seemed to me that they were shouting in the parade. I immediately thought that someone had been attacked there, but my friends began to calm me down, they say, after that incident, all sorts of horrors seem to me. But then my friend's mother ran into the apartment and said that a man with a knife had just pounced on her. The guys grabbed a stick from the mop and ran to look for him. It happened in the winter, and the attacker was without outerwear, so he was quickly caught. I was terrified when I saw that it was the same person who had attacked me before. I was shaking terribly. Later it turned out that this man had worked in a publishing house and he already had a criminal record - he served eight years for raping a minor. This time he was given only three years. His pregnant wife came to the court, and from work sent a positive response.
After these events, I began to constantly monitor what was happening behind my back. I'm still nervous if someone comes up from behind. But in general, it seemed to me that this story was gradually forgotten. I often told her acquaintances just like a scare. К тому же я гордилась тем, что сумела отбиться. Мне казалось, если однажды со мной произойдёт что-то подобное, я снова сумею дать отпор.
Через пару лет я поняла, что подобные истории просто так не забываются. Я отправилась получать второе образование - психологическое - и в рамках обучения стала ходить на групповую психотерапию. Once, during a session, a woman told how she was attacked on the street, and suddenly it seemed to me that my legs were being taken away. I don’t remember what happened to me, but then they told me that I was hysterical, I cried and could not calm down for a long time. After that, I told my story at the group consultation and realized that now I really felt better.
True, sometimes things happen that remind of her. For example, a couple of years ago I joked over a colleague, and she came up behind me and put her hands to my neck - as if she wanted to strangle. Of course, it was just a joke. But I could not laugh or get angry and shove her off. I just cried. Maybe because that day was tired and a lot of nervous. Then I remembered the woman I met at the police many years ago. I was surprised that during the attack she fell into a stupor. Now I realized that not always a person is able to stand up for himself - it all depends on the well-being, internal state and characteristics of the person himself.
Ksenia Batanova
producer, presenter
It happened in 2014, when I worked in the election commission before the elections of the Moscow City Duma deputies. Until now, no one knows for sure whether it was a robbery, or an attack related to my work. I was returning from the guests - September, late Friday night, good weather. I walked along the Clean Ponds. Behind me hailed. I turned around and they hit me right there. I lost consciousness, and the moment of attack was not well deposited in my memory. It seems there were three attackers.
When I woke up on the pavement, I realized that something very bad had happened. My keys and phone were stolen, and earrings were missing from my ears. I went back to my friends who had been visiting before, and again fainted near their porch. It is good that someone was smoking below: they saw me and called an ambulance. It turned out that I had a concussion, a broken nose and cheekbone. So the next month and a half I spent in the hospital.
Those who attacked me were not found. It is strange: everything happened in Milyutinsky Lane, almost adjacent to the FSB office, in the very center of Moscow. It seemed to me that there should be cameras everywhere in such a place. But for some reason the record where I was attacked, was never found.
Of course, at first I was scared. I work in the frame, and I was worried that my face was disfigured. I also felt sorry for myself, so I sobbed for a couple of days. But then she began to calm down. Because of the concussion, I could not read or watch a movie. So I lay listening to classical music and came to my senses.
If something happened to you, you can no longer turn back the clock. It only remains to move on and be proud that you were able to survive it.
While I was in the hospital, my friends and acquaintances constantly came to me - even those with whom we had not met for many years. They helped me a lot. I even said to myself: “The next time you whine that no one loves you, remember the hospital.”
And then my face healed. When I checked out, I came back home and was glad that I could just go and kick the autumn leaves with my boots. When you lie in a hospital bed for several weeks, you start to appreciate simple things: fresh air, yellowed trees. You understand that the things you usually worry about are not so important.
Probably, I am a psychologically stable person. When something happens to me, I think: "If they did not kill, then everything is fine." I understood that it was not my fault that they had attacked me. I had every right to walk down the street in the evening, at any time and in any clothes. I had nothing to scold myself, nothing to repent. Therefore, I was sure that after this incident I didn’t want to change anything in my behavior or start to fear what I hadn’t been afraid of before.
In general, I think that you should never nag yourself and blame yourself for anything. It is best to become your own closest friend. There are so many people around who are ready to criticize you, offend you, make you feel ashamed or afraid of something. So you need to respect and support yourself. Instead of nibbling at myself for something, I try to talk to myself: "Ksyush, well, you did this and that. Probably, this is wrong. You could do it differently. But you are still great" . If you become yourself a friend and do not blame yourself for every wrongdoing or mistake, it makes life a lot easier.
Honesty and the ability to talk about their needs also help. For example, if you start a panic attack, it seems that everything is terrible and in general you will die now, well, if you can call a friend or girlfriend and say: "I feel very bad, talk to me." Sometimes I do that.
Once I read some foreign article on psychology. The author explained that it is not necessary to call the victims of those who have been subjected to violence. They experienced a lot of stress and coped. They have much to be proud of, for which they respect themselves. They are not victims, they are survivors, survivors. I really like this position. If something happened to you, you can no longer turn back the clock. It only remains to move on and be proud that you could survive it.
Photo: shotsstudio - stock.adobe.com (1, 2, 3)