On Tuesday, July 16th, in the early evening, we heard directly below our rooms what we thought was the moving of large and heavy objects. The noise disturbed the whole household. We went to bed at 10:30 but could not sleep. Drunken voices from outside penetrated into all our rooms. Yurovsky’s room was on our floor somewhat removed from our quarters. From his room came the sounds of lewd talking. Soon we heard heavy footsteps approaching in our direction. The light went on and then a deep voice was heard. It was Yurovsky’s.

He entered the room and then went on into Father’s room. Soon Father appeared in the doorway and in a faltering voice told us to hurry and get ready as we had to leave within the next forty minutes. While we were washing and dressing, we prayed and quietly cried. We were almost ready when another guard came in, telling us not to pack any of our belongings as there was no time. We took only a few essential things. Tatiana ran into our parents’ bedroom and helped Alexei to put on his braces over his limbs while Olga packed Alexei’s medicine. He was still ill and quite helpless and began to weep as did we sisters.

We girls dressed in white blouses and lightweight gray skirts and jackets and carried top coats, which bore some of our treasures sewn inside. Father and Alexei were dressed in military coats; Mother in a black suit. When we were ready, Dr. Botkin came in with a small bag and a coat on his arm.

The last few minutes before we left, we went to our knees and fervently prayed before an ancient icon of Christ and shared the holy prosphora given us by the priest on the previous Sunday. This icon for centuries had been handed down from one Russian sovereign’s family to another. All our treasures had been catalogued for many years; there was a description of each piece with its origin and history. We carried this icon to Tobolsk and Ekaterinburg. We knew that it was the oldest and the most venerated of all the icons and more valuable than those that were embellished with gold and silver and studded with precious stones.

This framed cloth icon was said to have been made from the towel that was used by Jesus to wipe the perspiration and blood from His face before His crucifixion and it pictured clearly, though faintly, the imprint of His face. Subsequent tests disclosed that the cloth of the icon was made of the same material that was used in Jerusalem at the time of Christ, and that the spots and outline of the face were of human blood and perspiration. It was further shown that no human hand could have made this icon and for that reason it was called in Russian “Nerukotvorenny Spas” which means: No-hand-created Saviour. We left our rooms with a prayer on our lips.

My heart was pounding and a cold chill ran over my body as I was again struck with the violent force of the premonition which had haunted me all day long, ever since I awoke with a horrible dream early that morning. I had dreamed that I stood in the doorway of a very small wooden house somewhat like a fishing shack. It stood on a wooden platform. Presently I sensed that the little shack was floating on waters which were gradually rising from below the surface. As I looked through the mist I could see nothing around but water: no forest or mountain which could produce any safety. Not a murmur or a sound or a ripple could be heard. The depressing, lonely quietness engulfed me. I knew I was sinking slowly.

I was haunted by this nightmare when a man came into the dining room where the family had assembled, together with Dr. Botkin, Ivan Kharitonov and Anna Demidova. The man asked, “Are you ready?” Father answered, “Right, we are.” “Follow me, please,” the man said. Before we left the dining room Anna, who had with her two pillows, a blanket and a tiny bag, handed one of the pillows to Tatiana. Concealed in the pillows were some of our jewels.

With his lantern shedding a feeble light the man now led us along the hall and down the stairway into the courtyard. Father’s strong and protective arms were carrying Alexei who was crying from fear.

Suddenly I remembered our dogs. “Jemmy,” I said tearfully. “My dog, please let me have her.”

“You will get your dogs downstairs,” shouted one of the men.

With our help, Mother followed behind Father. The man moved his lantern from side to side to give a better light to the stairway. Mother almost fell as we reached the ground floor and passed into the yard. We saw shadows moving around in the court. The air was cool and the night was bright.

We re-entered the same building, passed through a hallway, and entered the second room on the right. It was approximately the same arrangement as upstairs. This was probably where we had heard the noises earlier in the evening from my sisters’ and my room. It had sounded as if furniture and other heavy objects were being moved. This room was about the size of our sleeping room and had not one single piece of furniture in it.

Dr. Botkin and Anna were told to put their small bags on the far side of the room, and we, too, had to put our jackets and top coats in the same place. The house was on an elevation so that these rooms were actually on the ground floor, I think one step up or down. Yurovsky went ahead of Father. In the hall he said something to Father, pointing to the first door we had just passed. Father held Alexei until three chairs were brought. Then he placed Alexei on one of the chairs and left the room. Mother sat on the left side of Alexei. About eight men were there when we came in. Probably some who followed us had been the shadows in the courtyard. They were dressed partly in civilian and partly in foreign military uniforms. All had revolvers stuck in their holsters and hand grenades attached to their belts.

Trup had been compelled to follow us. He had been ill for some days and had not been on hand to care for Father’s personal things. The guards had either failed to arouse him earlier or his fate had been decided at the last minute, for he appeared in his night garment and carried his clothes on his arm. We had not been allowed to see him frequently during his illness. He was not more than thirty-four or thirty-five. He looked much thinner and was almost blue in the face.

Tatiana rearranged the pillow which she had taken from Anna to make Alexei more comfortable, while we waited for Father to come back. In four or five minutes the group of men separated into two groups. Father walked between them. His face was ashen and the “Otsu mark” on his forehead was red like fire. His left shoulder and the left side of his face just below his eye were twitching. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his face and took the chair next to Alexei on the latter’s right side. What this man Yurovsky had said to Father in that room no one will ever know. Father preceded Yurovsky who was followed by others and who remained standing in the middle of the group.

I was on my Mother’s left side and Dr. Botkin was behind her on her right. My sisters were a few steps behind us. The men stood about eight feet away facing us. I am sure the others thought as I did that we were trapped, and there was nothing to do or say.

When Father entered the room, Mother started to raise herself. Suddenly she trembled and fell back into the chair as her head slumped to her right shoulder toward Alexei. Then I screamed and grabbed Dr. Botkin’s arm. While I was screaming, Yurovsky said something, exactly what, I did not hear. Simultaneously, I heard screams....

After this I was somewhat conscious. Still I felt no pain and did not see anyone fall but my lips were frozen cold and I felt very clammy and there was a violent ringing in my ears. I wanted to get up but I felt as if I were paralyzed, and lost consciousness entirely.

How long I lay in blackness, which held me floating between life and death, I cannot tell. Was it hours or days? I do not know. All too soon I awoke from oblivion to realization and horror. I had no sensation of coming back to life. All at once I knew I was alive and in pain. My mind was clear, I was cold and conscious of some terrible catastrophe. At first I shrieked frightfully; then I was afraid to breathe and to open my eyes. I knew I had just come to from unconsciousness. I began to feel the increasing pain and shiver from the wet cold, and became convinced that I was not dreaming. But a fear came over me. First I thought that I fell on the floor and got hurt, and that they, thinking I was dead, had buried me alive without a coffin, and that my grave was not yet sealed. I tried to control my shrieks realizing too well what had happened, though all was perfectly quiet now. Still I did not wish to open my eyes for fear of what I would see. I was cold and in great pain. My neck seemed swollen. I felt a tightness around my nose and swelling below my left eye.

The others: Were they beside me? Were they alive but afraid to move? I began to wonder. In the darkness I could feel no body warmth; I could hear no sound of breathing. Suddenly, it came to me. I remembered the anguished screams. I lay in a hush, a silence that was all the more pronounced by contrast with the noise and frantic screams before. It was the silence of death and the tomb. I opened my right eye, just a little. Quickly I closed it. My left eye was so swollen, it could not open. The air was heavy and there was a smell of damp earth. I listened. Surely someone must be near me. I moved my hands cautiously. I could feel on my right a crumbly earthen wall. Was I in a tomb? Buried alive? My eye flew open. I could see a tiny opening a little distance above.

I made a move, only to feel excruciating pain. I felt nauseated. My head pounded with pain. When the convulsion passed away, I lay exhausted, wet, clammy, awaiting the death I could not escape. Now I did not want to escape. I wanted to die. How long could I last in this tomb? Dear God, let it be quick! Why did they not bury us together? We always wanted to be together, in life and in death. My convulsive noises had brought nothing but silence. I was frightened and so ill. I began to weep chokingly. My cries resounded through the hollowness, increasing my feeling of loneliness. If only someone would hear and end my agony. My ears rang, my head reeled with dizziness. My nausea returned. Once more I was in the grip of a convulsion.