Story i wrote, feedback anyone?

БЕЛЫЙ ЗАКАТ, КРАСНЫЙ ВОСХОД СОЛНЦА
(WHITE SUNSET, RED SUNRISE)
My heart is beating so fast, so loud, so hard that it's going to pop out of my chest. I have to hide, I have to run, and I cannot be found. Hide or death, run or death, ultimatums were never my forte. The Bolsheviks are at my door, "I know it, I know they're at my door" I murmur in a faint whisper. I am scared, I am trembling, and my fingers shake without recourse.
Communism, a classless system, "Ha" there are two classes that remain in communism, those who have power and those who don't. The Cheka come to town only to execute those who oppose the Bolsheviks and the socialist worker movement. Those of us in the former middle class now ache with fear, it consumes us and we have no defense against the red rain of terror. In years past we would look to the Czar in times of need, but he was murdered 7 months ago by the Cheka, along with the whole royal family. I want to howl out in terror and scream in suspense, if only the burning question would leave my aching mind. "Will I live until tomorrow?"
I can hear the screams of people down the street, but my hands cover my ears, I only imagine them. Regardless, the Cheka are coming, the cries of the people have been silenced and that is why I cannot hear them. Footsteps now occupy my mind, I can hear them and I can feel them, the vibration surging through my body, I know someone is outside the door. The door knob begins to turn ever so slowly, a shiver and a tear begin their journey down my body, I await the outcome, I await the finale, the conclusion to these events, it all ends and begins with the opening of the door.
Relief words could never describe circulate through me, as my husband comes through the door, but protection and comfort is not guaranteed. I chose to not yet reveal myself to him, but joy I have not felt for days is awakened in me and I cannot hold back.
Frozen Stiff. My husband was the one entering the door, but guided by Cheka, he was as good as dead, I knew it, there was no way out for him, but me, I still have a chance.
"Где - ваша жена?" "Где - ваша жена!?"
Where is your wife the Cheka screamed into his face, his tears glistened down his face as he as well as I knew his fate.
"Те, кто выступает против Большевиков, мертвы, и теперь так - Вы товарищ."
"Those who oppose the Bolshevik are dead, and now so are you comrade" were the words that destroyed me, ripped my soul from my body, only to be ravaged once more by the resonance of a bullet being shot through his heart. My mouth remains silent, my mind remains screaming, and my body remains divided by the horror the revolution. The Cheka did not find me, not yet, I have lived one more day.
The newspapers the next day called for "rivers of blood" and "wholesale executions" and to my horror, to possibly the most pain, grief and blood curdling anger a person could ever feel, a picture of my dead husband on the front page, an example of what happens to those who oppose the Bolsheviks.
My life has left me, my spirit has fled. Three years have passed since the red terror took the lives of "all those who oppose the Bolsheviks", the freedom I once knew, the freedom that I could taste every morning was gone. The White army has been defeated, and so has freedom. I serve the state now; I am the state now as the dictator would say. Life is unbearable and I wish I had died when the Cheka took my husband's life. "Anything is better than this."