Hello!  My name is Daryna, I lived for 15 years in Kharkiv Region in North-East Ukraine — in the town of Derhachi. I was killed in the middle of March.  When the invasion of Ukraine began, my mother, father, two younger brothers and I lived in the basement day and night.  On March 13, we spent a few hours at home because the shelling stopped outside.  But at night, the enemy began to attack again — there was no time to run to the shelter. I just popped into the room next to mine for a second when a shell hit our house... I was buried under the rubble. "We don't have a daughter anymore," Dad said as he dug to the sight of my little hands.  My loved ones were lucky — they survived. Since I was a child, I developed very quickly: I started walking and talking early. I had a phenomenal memory, already at the age of two I could easily memorize the text read to me by her mother. I could recite it word for word. This later helped me perform at various kindergarten and school pageants — I was always in the center of attention.  And when I went to school, I did not need to memorize poems — I simply read through them once and was ready to recite them by heart.

I grew up purposeful — I reached all the heights I set for myself and loved learning new things, I was a troublemaker and an excellent student in class at the same time.  Already during the full-scale war between Russia and Ukraine, I decided what I would do after school.  I saw my future in the Border Service — to stand guard over my country.  Mom wondered if I was sure about my choice, would I agree to live in the barracks?  But I was steadfast, I knew that I could do it.

"Daryno, this is your farewell salute," — my father said at my funeral.  When they buried me in Derhachy, shells flew back and forth over the heads of my family and friends. Shortly after the funeral, my father, mother and younger brothers left for Poltava.  As long as they stay there, there is simply nowhere for them to go home.  And it's still very scary there.