You Can’t be Prepared for It
The face was swollen, lips all blood-beaten. Sleepless nights turned the very existence into torture. It was in the morning. I was sitting tied in the investigator’s office. He was drinking coffee and joking about Ukrainian girls with his friends. On the radio band Lyapis Trubetskoy was playing revolutionary song Voiny Sveta (The Warriors of Light). “Soon we’ll get rid of that too“, smiled a security guard. You want nothing but die.
The investigator got distracted from his very important affairs and came up to my half-alive body. The inquisitor, as an experienced psychologist, again started speaking tenderly as if nothing had happened before. He persuaded me to plead guilty, after which everything would be over at once. I was silent. There was nothing to conf
