“Hello,” I don’t lift my eyes to look at him—exactly as I was instructed. I nervously twist the strap of my handbag in my hands.
“On ‘you’,” I hear his voice—rough, with hoarse notes. I flinch.
“And by name.”
“I—hello, Beslan,” I can’t quite decide to introduce myself. He already knows everything about me.
“Now come over and get down on your knees.”
I hold my breath until my lungs begin to burn. And then I do what I shouldn’t. I look up at him. It happens unconsciously and so fast that I don’t even understand what I’ve agreed to.
“You were told not to look!” I squeeze my eyes shut. So childish, so stupid—probably funny. But no one will joke with me here. I’ve seen his face… Contains profanity.