***This chapter has very graphic content; not for the faint of heart or squeamish. Reader discretion is advised.***

18 October 1986

Dearest Katya:

Something is seriously wrong with Vasya. I hadn't seen him for 3 days and its like there was a sudden shift of some kind. I had painted him a picture of autumn in art class and learned how to make paper airplanes from some neighborhood kids, so I planned to shoot it up to him. When I got to my usual spot behind the hospital, I looked up, and it was like I was seeing a stranger. He was bald! Completely and utterly bald. And to make matters worse, his skin, especially on his hands and face, was very blistered, to the point that it looked raw.

"Vasya, what happened?" I asked shocked.

"Hi, little Sasha. I spiked a high fever over the weekend, and Sunday woke up with clumps of hair on my pillow. It's not just on my head, it's like my whole body shed all of its hair and with that my skin has blistered over." He said with a sad sigh.

"Why is this happening? I thought you were getting better?" I asked puzzled.

"So did I. I don't know. The doctors are just monitoring me right now, they are going to start putting gauze on the blistered areas to keep moisture or something in my body from leaking out. I don't know what to make of any of this."

"That's good that the doctors are taking care of you. I think you'll heal again in no time." I assured him. He smiled at me, but his smile was unconvincing.

"Let's hope so."

"Hey listen, I made you something and wanted to give it to you!"

Forgetting about the situation almost entirely for a moment, I took my paper airplane out of my rucksack and without waiting for him to question me, shot it expertly into the open window where he caught it with his very blistered hands. He winced when the paper made contact with them, but he did his best to hide it. Opening the folded ends of the paper slowly, he looked at my crude painting and smiled.

"Sasha, this is a masterpiece! I shall save it and look at it every day. Thank you so much for thinking of me."

"You're welcome! I'm glad you like it." I said proudly. That totally made my day and I could tell that despite the pain it made his too.

As he looked at the drawing, he and I spoke for a bit longer and then just before leaving, I saw him place the drawing on the table next to his bed, but when he let go of it, pieces of his skin stayed on the paper from his hands. I felt so bad to see him in pain, surely the doctors were doing everything they could for him. What do you think, Katyusha? How long will it take for him to get better this time? Time will tell.

Love, Sasha

20 October 1986

Dearest Katyusha:

I can't write every day because school work takes up a lot of my time plus now with winter not too far away, we are doing a lot of outdoor chores which I help with. I saw Vasya the other day, and he looked worse. I didn't think things could get any worse, but he was wrapped from neck to toe in gauze. Still, though there were these red blotches everywhere. He told me that the orderlies had at first only changed his dressing twice a day but now that number had quadrupled. He looked like he was in so much pain. He kept saying that the doctors were telling him to drink a lot of water because his body was leaking a lot of fluid and there was no way to stop it.

"So drink the water, Vasya. That should definitely help with making you better."

"I don't know if I will get better at this point." He looked sad, but it was his eyes that got me; they were terrified. I had never seen an adult look like that before.

"Of course you will. You did before and you will again. You must be strong." I said confidently or as confidently as a 6-year-old could sound.

He smiled at me then and got up to use the bathroom. He mentioned to me that though he barely ate, he went to the bathroom a lot more than he ever did in his life. I noticed that his bathroom visits had increased too. And he was still coughing a lot only now he was using a towel to put up to his face when he was coughing because the handkerchiefs were just not big enough to hold whatever he expectorated.

A lot of time we didn't talk because he couldn't as he kept choking and coughing and I just stood witness to his ill health. You may think that was too much for a child but here in the Soviet Union, we are bred to have hearts of lions even us girls. I don't feel like a child at all. Plus Vasya is lonely, and he's my friend, and I would never let a friend regardless of age bear a burden like this alone.

Love, Sasha

22 October 1986

Dearest Katya:

Vasya cried in front of me today. I came upon him sobbing in his hospital room. His doctor had delivered several letters from his wife and parents because as you know they cannot see him and he read me some portions of the letters. They were so worried about him and yet wanting him to be strong as well as telling him about how life was for them. They lived in the outskirts of Gomel but still in the city just on the other side. They were praying for him, and his wife had many a sleepless night worrying about him.

"You don't have any children?" I asked him to get his mind off of sadness.

"No, not yet. We were only married last year. We met in 1st grade just like you are now."

"That's wonderful, what's her name?"

"Katya, Ekaterina." I was stunned.

"Really? That's my mama's name too! And I named the diary that I have that name currently too."

"It's a really beautiful name, don't you think?" He said wiping off tears as best he could with the gauze on his hands.

"Absolutely!" I agreed with him beaming. "And see you now you have to get better because you have to have children and live happily ever after!" He smiled at my simple explanation remembering that I was still 6 years old.

"I would love to have a little girl just like you. I would name her Alexandra and call her Sasha too."

We spoke for a while longer, and then he got up to use the bathroom for the 3rd time since I had arrived there. I waited for him, but he was taking a longer time than usual. As I stood there playing with my sweater and jacket, I heard two orderlies come in. Panicking and thinking they would see me outside the window, I hid under it so they wouldn't. I could hear as they walked over to the bed and started changing his sheets. Just as Vasya came out of the bathroom, I could tell by the shuffling that one of the orderlies had gone into the bathroom for some reason.

I heard Vasya grown loudly as he tried to lay down and then there was more shuffling, sounded like he had to go to the bathroom again. As they stood waiting for him to come out, I heard one say to the other:

"How is his stool? We have to update the doctor."

"Not good. Looks like, with that last go, half of his small intestine came out."

"Just like the others. How much longer will he go on?"

"Can't be much longer. His organs are disintegrating and coming out."

I listened in shock. His organs? Those were supposed to stay inside the body. Clearly, they were mistaken. They had to be. We learned about a lot of organs in school that week.

Meanwhile, Vasya was taking way too long in the bathroom, and I had to go home, so I picked up my rucksack and snuck off without being heard. I ran home and quickly started writing this now. I don't know what it all means. How could organs fall apart and come out of the body and what was causing this to happen? So many questions and so little answers.

Love, Sasha.

23 October 1986

Dearest Katya:

Today is a Friday, and I won't see Vasya again until Monday. But I think this break is needed because I am the only one talking. The most horrible, terrible thing happened today to Vasya! I can't even think about it because every time I close my eyes, I see it! My God, Katya, how can something do this to a human being. Especially someone as amazing as Vasya.

So, when I arrived at my usual spot, I saw that Vasya's bed had been moved to be closer to the window so he could get fresh air. My painting was nowhere to be seen. Vasya was propped up in bed. He could barely sound out words, and he explained that the painting had gotten dirty with his skin and blood. His body gauze was almost completely soaked in the blood and fluid his body was losing to the point that it was glistening. He needed to be changed, but he mumbled almost incoherently that it didn't matter anymore because the gauze would just be soaked again in a matter of minutes. I listened terrified by what all of this could mean.

"What can I do? Tell me, Vasya. What can I do to help you?" I pleaded near tears at seeing my friend in such distress.

"Just stay here and talk to me. Remind me that I am still a person and not a Chernobyl monster. Just stay here and be my friend." He ground out.

"You're not a monster! Don't ever say that! You are a person, you are just very sick right now. As soon as the doctors find the right medicine, you will get better, and your skin will heal, and you'll be able to be with your wife and family again!" I was adamant because I believed it with all of my little heart.

He started to grunt out something in reply, but then his coughing and heaving began in earnest. He had a towel nearby, and he held it as best as he could to his mouth, but I could still see pieces of something covered in red coming out as he spit them out. Remembering what the orderlies said about organs, I deduced that those were probably his lungs and other things. The red was blood. His body was losing everything it was supposed to keep.

Just as he seemed to calm down from his coughing fit and lay back down with a deep guttural grown, a seizure or something hit him hard, and he sat up completely and vomited deep red loudly across the room. To my horror-stricken eyes, I saw his tongue, and two remaining teeth get flung out of his mouth across the small room and splatter against the wall. I was rooted to the spot as I saw Vasya collapse onto his pillow motionless though wheezing. As shouts were heard in the hallway, I regained my sense of feeling and ran home without looking. I was totally numb, Katya. What did I just see? My poor Vasya, how would he talk without a tongue? He needed surgery immediately to repair it!

I am actually glad that I have the weekend off without seeing him. He needs surgery and to rest. On Monday everything will be better. It just has to be.

Love, Sasha

26 October 1986

Dearest Katya:

Vasya is dead, Katyusha! Goodness gracious, he's gone! I'm completely numb and cannot stop crying. I have tried to write to you for several hours now but I couldn't. Mama hasn't come home yet, so I have time to myself. I have been weeping ever since I ran home. Today was like any normal Monday at school, and I was anxious all day to see Vasya and ask him about whether they had surgery yet to repair his tongue. I had nightmares all weekend with that image in my head of his lungs and tongue flying out.

As I walked to the hospital after school, I noticed a heavy smell in the air like rubbing alcohol but much stronger. As I got to his window, I noticed a female nurse in there I had never seen before. I couldn't see Vasya anywhere. She was scrubbing the walls and floor with some kind of liquid. I kept looking around the room, but Vasya was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, she looked up and saw me. She stared at me like she had seen a ghost. I figured I could ask her where Vasya was, but before I could ask her she said:

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was shaking.

"Where's Vasya?" I asked, sounding every inch a 6 year old. She looked stunned that I knew the name of the person in the room.

"He's gone. Now you must leave here at once; I don't have time for this."

"What do you mean he's gone. When will he come back? Is he having surgery on his tongue?" I asked pointedly as she stared at me like one would at a crazy person. She then started screaming!

"He's not coming back. He's dead! Now get out of here, you crazy child! You shouldn't have ever come here! Never, ever return! You hear me? Never return!"

Her words echoing in my ears, I ran faster than I had ever run in my life. Tears flowed down my cheeks and onto my clothes as I got home, opened the door, and closed it locking it on all locks and sagged to the floor, crying my eyes out. That's where I remained for the last 2 hours. And now I am writing in you, Katya. My friend is gone, and I will never see him again. Just like the neighbor's husband.

What am I going to do now?

Love, Sasha