Under Pressure
The atasniks cry was heard from the corridor. My nickname, familiar to everybody, is heard again, it means that someone wants something from me once again. For a thousand times, I asked myself the unchangeable question, what was wanted from me and who wanted it. When would they all leave me alone and let me enjoy a moment of peace? I was so tired, but tortures did not stop. In that hell all the devils did not rest, they pulled the veins and continued to pour oil into the fire.
There was no way out. I had to go. Nothing depended there on my wishes, even if I did not want it, nothing would change. Anyway I would be grabbed, tied and carried where they wanted.
The convoy searched me as usual and took me outside. There appeared a chance to breath in fresh air. That was pleasa
