The Wanted Victim
N early a year and a half passed since the moment the sun had faded and my world had been wrapped in opaque darkness. A ray of hope could sometimes get through the clouds, but it was immediately trampled down into the mud by the cast-iron boot of the overseer. The prolonged death in the walls of Lefortovo prison. Alone.
In the captivity of the invader, aggressor, murderers and headmen. I was waiting for a trial for which everything had already been predetermined. While it was approaching, the deceptive still weather was gradually replaced by an endless storm of events. One early morning, a start-up volley was given and I plunged into the abyss of relocations, expectations, interrogations and proceedings. My role as a suspect was approaching the denouement. They were pre
