(told by Natasha, 14 years old)

If you want to know how I got to the orphanage, then listen.

I was 3 years old; I have practically no memories from my childhood. But I can tell you some things. I remember that I was three years old and I was sitting in my yard in a sandbox and playing with my dolls. Near us there was a house, there lived one family. And this house exploded. When the firemen came, they began to fight with the fire, but time was working against them. The people in the house were burned down and I remember how they were bringing dead people out of the ruins.

After that I had a nervous failure. I was taken to hospital, and I never saw my mom again. I had nightmares of explosions and dead people, I could not sleep at night, I was waking up at night and screaming. Then the police came and took me to the orphanage. I was 4 at that time. They asked my name, but I did not respond. I was not speaking for one year, till I turned 5.

Then I asked about my mom, but nobody said anything, they only asked my name and I said that my name is Natasha, but I could not rememver my family name. Then in ten years I found out where my parents lived, but I have not found them yet.

Now I am in grade 9, I am 15, in winter I will turn 16. I still hate my mom, but I do want to see her anyway. I like the director of our orphanage.