The Tom, Kemerovo Oblast, May 6, 2011
Lying on her bed, Darya listened to Pink Floyd carefully, an ecstatic smile on her lips. Her little weekend pleasure. All her worries disappeared during this unique moment of solitude. The music, dynamic and catchy, propelled her into mindless dreams where misery had no place. Nirvana.
The earbuds started crackling. The music skipped several times, the tempo slowed down to distort the lyrics of the song into horrible rumbling. I need to change the batteries. Darya opened her eyes. Something was wrong. The ceiling, lined with a very thin grey carpet, no longer resembled the one she knew so well. Worse, she couldn’t move: a strap held her to her bed. Panicked, she struggled, pulling frantically on the restraint. Impossible to free herself. Then she saw
