Documenting the stories of children killed by Azerbaijani aggression in Artsakh reminds us that behind every statistic is a human life—with dreams, hopes and visions of a future cut short by violence.
Anahit Grigoryan shared her heartbreaking story in an interview conducted by the author.
Anahit brings a blue suitcase to the center of the living room and takes out items belonging to her eight-year-old daughter Victoria: a school bag, pink and shiny clothes, certificates and family photos showing the Gevorgyan family altogether.
Anahit opens this suitcase often. She takes out the girl’s clothes to wash and iron, then puts them back. This is the only thing left in memory of her daughter.
Victoria Gevorgyan died in Martuni on September 27, 2020, when the house yard was shelled. Her mother Anahit, brother Artsvik, relatives and two neighbors were injured in the attack.
Victoria’s father, Igor Grigoryan, recounts the details of that day. Anahit cannot bring herself to speak about it, only occasionally interjecting as her husband speaks. She watches silently as their eldest daughter, Gohar, plays with her younger brother in the living room.
The family awoke to the sounds of shelling and understood that a war had begun. Anahit dressed the children and embraced her son Artsvik, who was only two years old at the time.
When the shelling began, Igor wanted to take the family to the basement. As they stepped outside, an unmanned aerial vehicle heavily bombed the yard. “They were firing from 7 in the morning. They hadn’t hit the house before the fighting. That’s why we came out to the yard to go to the basement. We didn’t think they would fire at the house,” Anahit says.
“A big wave of smoke rose, deafening our ears. For a few minutes, I didn’t understand where my husband or children were. The impact had thrown everyone to one side. I got myself together and looked for the children. Victoria was unconscious. Artsvik was covered in blood. I was covered in blood, but I rushed to help the children. My hands were bloody. I embraced Victoria. We were calling for help to save them. There were many wounded,” the mother recalls.
Her husband managed to carry the injured into the car and drove them to the hospital. “There was a bus in the yard. Sometimes, I drove it to work. I never thought that, one day, I’d use it to take my family to the hospital,” Igor says.
Anahit said that she felt no pain. They placed children, relatives and neighbors, in the vehicle—on the seats and floor—however they could. Throughout the journey, there was firing in the direction of the car.