I look down at my feet and there’s a torn-apart corpse — I step over it and keep running

Background: Tania is 29 years old, from Chernihiv. While volunteering at a school, the building was hit by a shell. Tania survived but sustained multiple injuries. Her photos and videos from after the bombing, which spread widely online, were called fakes by Russian propaganda. Here is her account.

I went to volunteer at School No. 21 — it was a humanitarian aid distribution point where a lot of supplies were brought. Women and children came there, thinking such a shelter would be very reliable — it’s a school, who would think to fire at it? I helped sort things, peeled potatoes, cooked.

In March, the sirens went off yet again. We were used to them by then and kept sorting things with another woman — she was sorting towels on the windowsill and I was sorting jeans, taking them from the window and putting them in a pile. I picked up a pair of pants, turned my back, bent over slightly — and that’s when the explosion happened. What saved me was simply that I’d turned around. That woman was killed.

At home, I recorded an Instagram video: “Send this to your Russian friends so they can see the truth.” Why did I even film it? We have a distant relative in Russia who kept saying: “Nobody will touch you, they’ll just take out some military targets and that’s it, calm down.” My mother later sent this relative my photo covered in blood. She replied: “Ksyusha (that’s my mother’s name), aren’t you ashamed? What kind of theater is this?” So this is a person we know personally, who visited us. We know these people, and they said: “Well, you wanted Europe, right? So go pick strawberries in your Europe.”

I ran. Damn, I still have that image — I look at my feet and there’s a torn-up corpse lying there, I step over it and keep running. That’s the moment that often flashes back. And I dreamed about it. But it feels like it didn’t happen to me at all. All my scars — it’s as if I just slipped and fell somewhere. I ran home, my mother saw me, her hands shaking — my entire face was covered in blood. I was the one calming her down.

For two days after that, I didn’t eat, didn’t drink, didn’t sleep — I thought we were all going to die. My mother cried with me. After learning how other people were injured, I tried not to fall apart too much — I understand I was lucky. There was a woman whose husband and son were there — they were buried under rubble, she was left alone. And many children died there. That same day they blew up School No. 18, which is across from ours, No. 21. Children were hiding there too, people were there — there were no military whatsoever. They just blew up two schools and that’s it.

Everything went dark, the sound was incredibly loud, the smell of concrete… Then I opened my eyes and realized what had happened. My immediate thought was that I’d survived — my eyes were in place, legs and arms intact, I was whole. A torn wound on my forehead, a finger, facial injuries, a blow to the eye, and shrapnel all over my body. I immediately recorded a video for my friends — one of those circles on Telegram — saying I’d survived.

I remember a mother who was looking for her child. She said he was somewhere in the basement. There was terrible rubble. Those who were in the cafeteria, who were cooking — they took the main hit. Everyone on the second floor was killed. When I looked up, I saw there was no roof at all — the second floor simply didn’t exist, it was just blown off. Honestly, I don’t know how I stayed alive.

After I posted the Instagram video, people started writing the most vile things — that I was an actress without makeup, loads of threats, anger. Russian people were very aggressive toward me. And, as funny as it sounds, they wrote: “Where were you, bitch, for 8 years?” — just like that. It was some girl, a hairdresser from Moscow. She wrote in expletives: “Where were you, whore?! Where were you, scum?!” I didn’t even respond — I thought, well, how would you know what’s been happening here?

And in Russia there’s some Telegram group called “War Fake” or something like that (referring to the channel “War Against Fakes” — I.K.). My friends told me they were “exposing” me there — writing about how someone could be so calm on video after a shelling. These people apparently are experts on explosions and how people behave after them.

After some time, I got a notification that my page had been blocked. They explained it happens when people report your page. Not only was I nearly killed — they also blocked my page.

From the first days after the shelling, I thought about leaving, but I was terrified to even step outside. I was preparing to die, understanding we could be bombed. I conditioned myself: Tania, this is life — look, you could die like this — be ready for it. And honestly, that even calmed me down, because I understood it wasn’t up to me.

My boyfriend insisted that my mother and I get out. Shelling started, windows started blowing out of the house, my boyfriend yelled: “Get on the floor!” — we all lay down, there were about five of us. Then we didn’t leave the basement for 24 hours. A plane flew over, and my boyfriend says: “I love you” — hugs me, and I understand he’s saying goodbye. Because of the sound of the plane.

The first time, we couldn’t get out. Our guides had promised it would be possible, then said it was absolutely impossible. Two days later, it worked out. It was terrifying — it felt like we’d be bombed. My boyfriend and I made it to Lviv, then to Kraków. We’re staying with neighbors of my boyfriend’s relatives — they took us in very warmly. They say to stay as long as we need. They’re good people; we’d never met them before.

I’m still scared even being here. I feel like Poland will be attacked. Right now my left eye sees very poorly, but in Poland they helped me a lot — prescribed ointments. My face is cut up, my cheek; I have shrapnel wounds on my face that seem to be healing bit by bit. I also have small shrapnel wounds from glass all over my body.

I don’t want to go back to Chernihiv and I don’t know when I will. Even though I love it very much. Right now everyone is rushing back to Chernihiv, saying it’s quiet there now, but I absolutely don’t want to go. After what I went through there, I just won’t be able to walk around, to exist in that city at all.