< 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.

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It happened in broad daylight, 19 years ago, in autumn. I was walking through the forest with my child in a pram, from my sister's house to mine. Already almost at the edge of the forest, closer to our neighbours' houses, a man grabbed me. He pushed me against a tree, held a knife to my throat, and kicked the pram with the child in it aside. He told me to keep quiet, that if I made a single sound, the child was done for. "Undress," he said, "let's see what kind of game I've caught." I was afraid to say a word. The knife was still at my throat. But I was even more afraid for the child. He sliced open my blouse and ran the knife across my stomach. Blood started to flow. The ground fell away beneath my feet. Just don't touch the child. Just leave her in peace. It was pure luck that our neighbours were also walking through the forest. He saw them, got scared, and started to run. Pure luck that nothing happened to the child. Pure luck.

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Anonymous author; story told in 2019 as part of the "16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence" campaign