I remember very clearly an incident when I was 9. My sister was about 2 months old. Mama had already taught me how to handle her correctly: how to swaddle, how to take her in my arms, how to give her a drink in case Mama should not be at home. And so I remember it was not early morning, about 11 o’clock, Mama went to the shop and left me with the sleeping sister. Suddenly a persistent doorbell rang. I went to the door and asked: “who?” A woman’s voice was heard: “Boy, open, your papa is not at work!” I thought and said through the closed door: “I am not a boy, but a girl!”

At that moment my sister woke, began to cry; I took her in my arms and again went to the door, since the woman was ringing again and demanding that I open the door. I heard another voice; she was not alone. I stood confused by the door with a two-month-old crying child in my arms; they said they had come from Papa’s work because he was not at work!? I did not open, but I was very worried about Papa, where he might be. Papa usually came home in the lunch break, since the plant where he worked was next to the house.

And at last the parents came, Papa for the lunch break and Mama from the shop. I ask Papa: “Where were you? Some aunties from your work came looking for you.” Well of course these were swindlers, perhaps Gypsies, who at all times have a custom of going from house to house. And I had enough resolve not to open to them.

The next incident I can now call a “paedophilic hint.” I was in fifth class and I had a public duty — the culture sector. And so in a lesson a “grandfather with a black briefcase” came to us to distribute tickets to the operetta theatre. Those who wanted raised their hands “who wants to go to the theatre.” They counted them and the “grandfather” asked that I be released from the lesson to the teachers’ room, to give me the tickets.

I sit with him in the teachers’ room, he takes out the tickets, we look at the seats in the tickets, stalls, dress circle. And he begins to praise me and what a pretty girl I am, and what a wonderful girl I am “let me kiss you!” (and I am sitting next to him). Once! And he kissed me on the cheek with his wet lips!!! And I understand that I cannot get up and leave him; he has not yet given me all the tickets. And he keeps saying: “Do you like the theatre? I can take you into the theatre for free and seat you in a separate box, closer to the stage….” And again he tries to kiss… Then I gathered courage and said: “No, enough!” And he let me go.

I remember that I returned to class, to the lesson, gave the teacher the tickets and said that there was no ticket for me, “there weren’t enough.” She, apparently, noticed my agitation and after the lesson carefully asked: “did he try to kiss you?” I answered: “yes! But I will not go to any theatre!” This teacher was attentive and sensitive and her name was Zinaida Vladimirovna.

And there was one more incident with me at 13. Well… then I was already a blonde-beauty! I was already meeting a boy and we “saw each other home” after school. And so I had seen him home, I am returning home, in the daytime, a handsome, charming man comes up to me and says that he has already been watching us, but did not dare speak because I was not alone. And now he decided to get acquainted, since I am needed for his work, he is an artist and wants to “paint from me as a model.” He understands that I am underage and must ask permission of my parents to pose for him “you have a beautiful figure, long legs….” (his words).

I, inspired, ran home to Mama and tell her that an artist wants to work with me, to paint a picture. Mama looks at me and says: “You will have to pose naked, do you agree?” And I to her: “Why at once naked?” — “Because a model is drawn nude, but I think models should be of age, and if this man were a real artist, he would not take an underage girl for such work. And this one is simply a rogue!” — said my mama.