< Translator’s note: The original formatting of the stories has been preserved. The translations aim to remain as close as possible to each author's original wording and expression.
I was probably about 17. I was buying sweets, I remember — an old man walks into the little shop. With a cane, barely walking, trying to get some money out of his pocket. I’m usually always in my own world, I don’t really look at people, but that day, my mood was somehow good, such a giving and sharing mood.
I stood there and watched him try to stuff that bag of candies into his own bag, watched him count out the coins. “Do a good deed,” I hear in my head, and I end up paying for the old man and even buying him some cookies. He refuses, almost cries, says words of thanks.
“Where do you live?” I ask. It turns out it’s behind my building. And even if it were farther, I tell him I’ll help carry the bags home. We’re walking and talking, the old man is like a little flower, barely moving his legs, his hands trembling, thanking and thanking me for being so kind and helping him. And I’ll carry those bags right up to his door, what is it to me, is it hard? We go into the building, wait for the elevator. He says, “No need, daughter, go home, thank you, thank you.” But it wasn’t hard at all for me. He also asked my name while we were walking. Katia, I say.
We get into the elevator. Where that helpless little flower went — I still don’t know. His hands were no longer trembling when they were on my waist and going down to my buttocks, feeling and squeezing them “Oh, Katenka…” — I still remember how he said that while rubbing and pushing me against the wall, touching my things with one hand and breasts with the other. How glad I am that I almost never wear skirts. How glad I am that it was only three floors, and that it ended quickly.
I didn’t show it. Smiling, I quickly handed him the bags and started saying goodbye. I wanted to run out of that cursed building as fast as possible. He even gave me a candy. I threw it away as soon as I got outside, hurrying home with the feeling that I needed to wash myself in the shower to get those touches off me.
Kateryna, 26 years old; story shared in 2022 as part of the campaign “16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence.”