Like clockwork, twice a day, every day, a train departs Russia's former imperial capital, winding its way across untouched countryside before arriving in Helsinki.
Usually there are empty seats inside the high-speed train as it pulls into platform nine in the station in Finland's capital.
But a few days after the war in Ukraine began, the trip from Saint Petersburg to Helsinki was sold out.
Since last month, a steady stream of Russians has not only been piling onto trains, but also buses and cars, to escape a place they no longer recognise.
While Russia is not as free as other places in Europe, citizens used to be able to take to the streets in protest, post their thoughts online and travel across Europe.
But then everything changed. Global sanctions and a new law to prevent the spread of "false information" about the invasion of Ukraine means the Russia of today is more reminiscent of a hermit kingdom.
Opposition figures face lengthy sentences behind bars and online commentary is closely monitored. Anyone who dares mention the word "war" risks incurring the wrath of local authorities.
Those who flee fear it will only get worse amid greater economic uncertainty, a crackdown on free speech, and the rumoured imposition of martial law.
Yet Vladimir Putin's shutdown of Russia's airspace to most countries means Russians who are fed up with their government have limited options when leaving the country.
That list will shrink even further on Monday as Finland's railway moves to suspend its services between Helsinki and St Petersburg.
The train services were sold out for two weeks after Russia's invasion, according to Finland's state-owned railway company. It's unclear what will happen after they are suspended.
But leaving Russia and arriving in Europe is only the first step for those fleeing the country, with the path forward filled with hurdles such as financial insecurity, bureaucracy and global indifference.
Inside the Russian exodus
Helsinki's central station is a bustling place, filled with workers, tourists, students and — more recently —anti-Russian protesters.
As they gathered one day on platform 9, a handful held up handwritten posters or photos of Ukrainians to Russian passengers as they passed by, according to Time Magazine.
It was not a warm welcome, but a sign of how Russians are now perceived in Europe.
There is some sympathy among locals for the plight of ordinary Russians who oppose the war. But there is also frustration at Mr Putin and those in Russia who support the invasion.
Russian political activist Elena, who wants to use just her first name to protect her identity, shares the world's outrage at the war.
She recently fled to Helsinki, where she is planning to seek asylum.
"This is impossible to support such a thing in the 21st century when [Mr Putin] is simply bombing another country."
At a rally in Russia a few days after the invasion, Elena felt a sense of hopelessness and desperation sink in as she counted the small numbers in attendance.
As she went about her daily life, she was disgusted by the people around her who "acted like nothing was going on".
"I hear aggression [towards Ukrainians] and support [for] Putin. I felt like I was in Nazi Germany."
She decided to leave, secure in the knowledge she could use her work visa to stay in Europe while she sought political asylum.
It's an indication of a stark reality: Leaving Russia now requires a certain amount of privilege — money, visas and even friends abroad.
Fleeing to Europe is only the first step
Fresh off the train from Saint Petersburg, passengers quickly peel off, greeting friends or moving on to other platforms to embark for unknown destinations.
Among them is Anastasia, who looks around anxiously as she walks over to a nearby ticket stand.
The ABC has been asked not to use her real name.
"I am going to France. Hopefully, for good," she tells the ABC.
As she approaches one of the machines to get a seat on a train to the airport, she realises it does not accept cash. She tries her card, but it doesn't work.
It's the first sign that her stay in Europe is not going to be an easy one. Anastasia — like every other Russian citizen — can't use her cards here due to a ban introduced by Mastercard and Visa.
With little more than the cash she was able to take with her, Anastasia hopes to make it to France to see her boyfriend.
Tamara, who doesn't want the ABC to use her full name, is in a similar situation. Her family fled to Russia in the 1990s after Abkhazia became a breakaway state.
"When you have already left your homeland once and lived your whole life somewhere else, you don't really have a homeland," she says.
She fled Russia after growing terrified of colleagues and the people around her who supported the war. Her plan is to travel from Helsinki to Germany, where she will meet her boyfriend and get married.
But she faces an uphill battle, having left Russia before securing the necessary paperwork to marry in Europe.
The nervous whispers of martial law
Russians face many bureaucratic hurdles if they want to leave the country, including needing visas to enter most European countries unless they have an EU passport.
Without them, passengers will need to start the convoluted process of applying for political asylum or a tourist visa.
Both processes carry a high degree of uncertainty, but it's a risk some are willing to take over the alternative: fighting a war they don't believe in.
Russia's defence ministry has already acknowledged that some conscripts are fighting in Ukraine, after previously denying it.
But for some time now, there have also been rumours of martial law being introduced.
It's unclear how Mr Putin would use the powers of martial law if they were enacted, and what limits there would be, given the Russian constitution only states they would be "defined by federal constitutional law".
Some, like Elena, fear martial law would mean Russia's borders would close completely and residents would be unable to leave.
The rumours reached a fever pitch two weeks ago when Mr Putin announced an extraordinary session of the Federation Council, Russia's upper house of parliament.
Martial law was not declared, and the Kremlin has dismissed such speculation as "hoaxes". However, a few Russians in Helsinki confessed it was one of the reasons why their friends were fleeing.
"It mostly concerns my male friends from the age of 18 to 27, who can be legally drafted to the army," Russian student Anna Busheva, who lives in Helsinki, tells the ABC.
But while Russians inside the country fear what they will face if they stay, those living outside the country are experiencing a similar anxiety over what will happen if they ever return home.
Defying the mighty Kremlin
Many who were in Europe before the war began are stuck in an awkward limbo, unable to stay without a visa but anxious about what will happen to them when they return home.
Anna has been studying in Helsinki for the past year, but she is worried about losing her visa as the rouble plunges.
If she can't pay her tuition fees, she has "very few options" on what to do next.
Will she stay and risk it or return to Russia?
"Going back home is not really an option for me right now," she says, adding that she has been publicly outspoken about her political views on social media.
Others, like Elena, have vowed not to return while the country continues on its current path.
"I feel like a traitor, I feel that I betrayed my friends who stayed there and could not leave," she says.
"There are also those who refused to leave and decided to fight. But I don't have any strength anymore."
Even so, she won't be silent. Russian activists feel they must speak out against the war. If they don't, they don't know what will be left of their country when they one day return.
