4: Sylvette Krista

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                                                                   Someone told me long ago,                                                                                                                                            There's a calm before the storm,                                                                    I know, it's been comin' for some time

"Have You Ever Seen the Rain", Creedence Clearwater Revival



For Syl, the line between love and hate was very fine, especially when it came to painting. She loved it just as much as she was enslaved to it.

She painted just as she breathed–automatically, but dependently.

It had all started the day after her parents died and Syl was sent to live with her aunt in Worcester, England at the age of ten.

The journey marked her very first train ride, which was terrifying in and of itself, not to mention she was being shuttled to a different country.

When the crowded locomotive made its first stop at Paddington Station, everything changed.

Syl remembered sitting at the front of the train, her knobby knees sticking out from under her dress, a weathered suitcase full of her belongings sitting on her lap.

She didn't know any English then but knew just enough about survival to have her wits about her. She knew that, once this train departed, its next stop would place her in the unrelenting trap that was her Aunt Alyona in Worcester.

First, she wondered why adults always thought it was best to uproot an orphan from their home, their culture, and send them far away where they would be even more scared and more desolate than they already were.

Second, she decided that adults were no longer in charge of her future, so she got off the train at Paddington Station and vowed to never set foot in Worcester as long as she lived.

In the three months that followed, Syl experienced hunger as she'd never felt before. She slept beside rats and humans that were as good as rats. She nicked bread and coins where she could but was hardly skilled enough to do it often without getting caught.

That was when she started selling her paintings. Whenever someone bought one, it was less because of its brilliance and more because of the beanpole Russian girl who was selling it.

Ever since then, there was a desperation in Syl's craft. It was silly, she knew, but there was a subliminal frenzy in her mind telling her that if she didn't sell her work, she'd go back to being that little girl again.

Once she had gained enough talent to earn the name "that art girl on Hackney", she started submitting her work to auctions. She only got less than a quarter of what the bidders paid, but it was enough.

As she learned more English, her bartering skills grew sharper.

That was when she met Pearlie Fedorov.

He frequented the auctions and soon took notice of Syl's work. He had approached her, asking if she'd like a job and Syl, in her naivety and excitement over finding a fellow Russian, said yes.

She hadn't realized Pearlie was an underground gang boss. She hadn't realized she'd tied herself into a world of Soviet violence and crime by working for Pearlie.

And she hadn't realized that, once she was in, it would be very difficult to get out.

For two years, she painted for Pearlie under the pseudonym "Euphradora", after the ancient Grecian artist.

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