Yulia

The early morning light acts as a contrivance to all who must pass through its way, and it is only those who are on the verge of exit of the stage of life that will see each new instance of the morning light as something to look forward to as opposed to the kind of interruption to what was likely to have been a restful slumber of sorts. Yulia opened her eyes against the strong morning sun and rubbed it severally with balled fists, the dryness of the night manifesting itself in the form of the tearless eyes. As each fist made a rotation, a kaleidoscope of induced colouration on her retinas greeted her. Feeling the smarting sensation giving way to the awkard comfort of tearing, Yulia released her hands from her eyes and sat up, looking about her.

The hospital room was as neat and tidy as it possibly could, with the two rows of bed lining along each wall of the standalone single-storey building. Curtains were drawn, and the full force of the early morning light cast beams of unrestrained brightness through the east-facing windows. The room wasn't at full capacity; only six of the total of twelve beds were occupied. Every occupied one had its own equivalent of Yulia, a young girl who was there because of one ailment or another.

In Yulia's case, it was a broken femur. She could hardly remember how exactly she was afflicted by it, but for the things that she did remember, she wished she could forget. Her father and mother were fleeing from Crimea after the Russian troops had taken over the region declaring it a part of the the Russian sovereign soil. Both her parents were staunch supporters of the government in Kiev and knew that had they stayed, their lives and eventually Yulia's would be forfeit, given the rapidly deteriorating levels of tolerance of those who did not speak the Russian language. They made it through Crimea up north, escaping towards Kiev, en route through Kherson. But Russian sympathisers had started catching up to them, and there was a need to take a risky east-ward diversion along the Dnieper river to get to Kiev where they had relatives there. They had been travelling for days, and Yulia did not really pay much attention. All she could remember after that was that her parents were involved in some kind of scuffle with armed men, there were some violent confrontations, and the next thing she knew, she found herself in the hospital thus.

She had no idea where her parents were, or even what hospital she was in, or who was the kind soul, should that person be kind, who brought her to the hospital to have her injury looked at. All she knew, was that she wanted to go home.