My name is Björn Forsberg, my father is Swedish and my mother is Chernorussian. I have lived most of my life in Sweden and so I barely speak my mothers language. before my parents divorced me and my mother would travel to Chernarus to meet her side of the family which lived in Lopatino. In Chernarus I was Swedish and in Sweden I was Chernorussian. I always felt uncomfortable in Chernarus, I had Chernorussian blood in my veins but I did not feel it in my mind, I felt like an outcast.
On one of these trips I met her, Olga Sviatoslavovna Mel'nikova. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen, I fell in love within seconds and every moment we shared was a moment outside the space of time but time still existed and I had to go back to Sweden. In Sweden I got a job in the army as a reservist. Olga was the only thing I thought about and when I heard of the scary news coming from Chernarus I had to go back, I had to find her! It was hard to get to Chernarus, it took a week by plane, boat, bus and on foot but eventually I made it to Lopatino, to my Olga.
She was scared, scared like a cat thrown in water. Her family was missing and people were chewing each others faces off. I decided that me and Olga would bugout to the woods west of her town. Our camp was small but that only meant it was easy to hide, the days went by and we got thinner and thinner, food was not easy to find in the woods and at first I did not want to risk going into a town, at first the screams at night kept us awake, then we got used to the screams, eventually the hunger kept us awake at night. Olga looked worse then me, she had not lived a rich life but this was too much for her, most nights I had to comfort her while she cried. I had brought with me a walkie talkie and managed to find the military's frequency, since I did not speak their language fluently enough to understand all of what was said I asked Olga to translate, one night most of what was said on the radio by the military was screams, Olga refused to translate and I kept begging but she kept refusing, she was mostly quite after that. It was as if what the soldiers said sucked the life out of her , out of my beautiful Olga. She was never the same after that, most of the time she just kept starring at nothing.
One misty morning I went out to collect water, at this time I was thin, really thin, I had a rifle and I could have shot a few wild animals but I was afraid of what the gunshot might attract. Death is a bigger motivator than hunger. Thirst however is quite a big motivator, to be honest I was terrified to leave Olga alone in the camp but sometimes I had too, this was one of those times. The 20l jug would be hard to carry when I was in really good shape and at this point I was weak, really weak. I took me a long time to get back to camp, back to my Olga. I already had anxiety when I left the camp but when I got back all I felt was impending doom. I looked for her in the camp, avoiding our tent subconsciously until it was the only place she could be in. For some reason I really did not want to enter that tent, it turned out it was for a good reason. Olga was laying in a pool of blood, her wrists were slashed and her skin was chalk white. Olga was dead, my love was dead. No matter how many of my tears landed on her cheek she did not wake up. I sat there crying for hours, just like when she was alive the moments I shared with her felt like an eternity. This time it was an eternity of horror. After many hours of dread I decided to torch it all, the tent, my camp and my Olga. I left it all burning. To survive in this new world I had the leave the old me behind.