𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗔𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗔𝗦 𝗪𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥 ⚔︎

7

one night, as may started to approach its end, giovanni had the strangest dream.

he dreamt he was naked, floating on top of a body of clear blue water and looking up at nothing but the sky. the water had been endless, unwavering, surrounding him as far as the eye could see. he had closed his eyes as it had lapped at the tips of his ears and the back of his neck, his hands fully submerged. it had been hot nor cold. in this temporary vision, nothing bad had happened to him. it had been right. everything had felt right—

he awoke with a start as a baton rattled loudly against the bars of his cell. he sat up, rubbing his eyes. kavensky and the warden were stood on the other side, both staring straight at him as if he were a zoo animal.

"vstavat," the warden said sternly. "u vas yest' posetiteli." get up. you have visitors.

with a huff, giovanni complied and approached the bars. kavensky opened the cell, sliding the bars to the left, before cuffing giovanni's hands behind his back. the warden inclined his head for them to follow him as he walked.

they lead him away from the cell block itself and down a separate hallway, where he almost had a bird's eye view over the foyer at the bottom and the large metal staircase, stretching all the way up to six floors. a slight bubble of panic formed in his throat as they took him across the courtyard to the guards' quarters where the warden's office was and where the administration took place upon an inmate's first arrival. nobody ever went to the guards quarters unless they were about to be in serious trouble or if they were being let out — and he knew he wasn't leaving any time soon.

still in the lead of the warden, kavensky escorted him inside of the building and brought him down more lengthy hallways. the sound of the guard's keys swinging from his hip echoed around the cold, stark linoleum space.

confused, giovanni spoke up. "kuda my edem, sare?" where are we going, sir?

the warden kept his head forward. "vy scoro budete tam. pritaitsya." you'll be there soon. keep quiet.

they stopped in front of a door. the warden opened it with a tiny brass key before leading kavensky and giovanni inside.

compared to the interiors giovanni had seen in the rest of the prison, this room was the opposite — light and airy, sunshine streamed in in individual slats from two big windows to the left, illuminating the space with a soft, flaxen glow. however, there was no decoration, not even a set of framed photographs on the walls, only a slogan written in stencilled, bold, black letters — 'pravoslaviye, samoderzhavye, narodnost' — 'orthodoxy, autocracy, and nationality.' a long folding table had been placed in the centre of the room, where two well-groomed and suited-up men with faintly tanned skin were sat. upon their entrance, they both looked up from the files sprawled in front of them and immediately rose to their feet. a separate chair had been placed opposite, currently empty. giovanni's stomach dropped to the soles of his feet as the anonymous men made eye contact with him.

the warden stepped forward and began his formal greeting. "good morning, gentlemen," he began. his sudden switch to english unsettled giovanni. for a fleeting moment, he felt fear grip him like a mighty claw. "this is the man you asked for — giovanni volkov." the warden looked at giovanni and dragged him away from kavensky as if he were a child in need of a scolding, despite the prisoner towering over him. "step forward, man. these men here are from america — they have come to talk to you."

shy yet startled, giovanni dipped his head to the americans without a word. he secretly thanked god that he was able to keep his composure.

kavensky, whom was still standing back and out of the way, surveyed the foreigners with a nasty sneer upon his lip, his arms folded across his chest. the warden clicked his fingers at him. "usadite ego." sit him down.