MasukOn a dark night, with no stars in the sky, Robert returned home drunk...
The air was cold, the house unusually quiet...
Lara opened the door before he knocked. As she always did, she greeted him, reached out, and took his coat. He shoved her aside without looking at her...
She stepped back, then asked calmly,
“Are you hungry? I can prepare dinner.”
He did not answer...
After a moment, she repeated the question, her voice unchanged.
Suddenly, he came close. He brushed her cheek with his thumb, slowly, and said in a heavy tone,
“You, twenty-seven years old… I never realized your beauty since I married you at sixteen.”
Then, without warning, the slap came.
It was harder than usual, sharp enough to turn her head aside.
She did not cry out.
And for the first time… she did not apologize.
She stood in silence, her breathing unsteady, then bent down, picked up the coat from the floor, placed it on a chair, and walked upstairs with steady steps.
Upstairs, Suzy was playing on the floor, laughing softly as she arranged her small cloth dolls. She looked up the moment she saw her mother.
“Mom… why is your cheek red?”
Lara paused.
She sat beside her daughter, tried to smile, and said gently,
“My dear… perhaps the kind witch came and put something on my cheek. It’s makeup—but she doesn’t know how to apply it properly.”
Her voice faltered.
A tear fell.
Suzy reached out with her small hand and touched her mother’s cheek carefully. Then she said with childlike seriousness,
“Mom, don’t cry. Suzy will teach the witch how to put makeup on my beautiful mother.”
Lara smiled—a fragile, broken smile—and pulled her daughter close.
“There’s no need, my love,” she said softly. “That witch might hurt you.”
Suzy fell quiet and pressed closer to her.
Downstairs, Robert staggered through the house.
Something fell...
Then he laughed...
Then there was silence...
Lara did not go down...
She stayed with her daughter...
She played with her...
She tried to let the night pass peacefully...
But that night…..
was not meant to pass...
Lara and her daughter continued playing upstairs while Robert slept downstairs, slumped across the table. The house was quiet, heavy with the kind of silence that follows exhaustion rather than peace...
Two hours passed...
Suzy eventually fell asleep...
Not long after, she cried out...
Lara rushed to her at once, pulling her into her arms...
“What is it, my little one? What happened to you?” she asked urgently...
Suzy clung to her, her voice shaking...
“Mom… the witch came to me. She had red eyes, and with her staff she made me like air… Mom, I’m scared.”
Lara held her tightly, rocking her gently.
“It’s only a nightmare, my dear,” she said softly. “Mom is here. And… Dad is here too. Don’t be afraid. Shhh.”
Inside, another thought formed—quiet, heavy, immediate:
I shouldn’t have mentioned the witch. I was wrong...
She continued to hold her daughter until Suzy’s breathing slowed again, until fear loosened its grip and sleep returned...
Lara did not sleep...
She stayed awake, listening to the house, to the distant sound of Robert’s uneven breathing below, and to the fragile calm she feared would not last...
Lara shoved the woman who had been pressed against her with such force that she sent her reeling; the woman struck her head as she fell, becoming a new target for the lashes that rained down from the front. The whips tore into the woman while Lara curled into a ball, desperately attempting to shield herself. The woman received several strikes before she, too, curled up, her focus entirely consumed by the agony in her head. A minute later, the lashing ceased. The overseers and the inmates alike stood panting from the exertion of the fray. Some of the women were visibly terrified, others writhed on the ground, and more still groaned in hushed, ragged tones...Attempting to cut through the echoes of their reaction and force a return to labor, the overseers commanded, "Move! Prepare yourselves for work. We shall bring you the looms for weaving and the spindles for spinning flax. Every one of you will participate in this task until next week, when we implement the final, permanent distribu
The guards, both men and women, began directing the prisoners, their mouths erupting with orders and insults. Lara was among the surging crowds, trying to shield herself from two things: the male guards and Isabella—for the latter was staring at her with eyes that rarely blinked. Despite the thundering of boots striking the ground, the screams of the guards, and the chaotic jostling of bodies—arms pressing here, thighs brushing there, shoulders colliding, and heads ducking—despite everything, Isabella’s gaze remained fixed on her.Lara exploited the density of the crowd to hide, her mind racing with questions: Why are they looking at me? Do they need something from me? Do they have a connection to me? Do they know Robert? Do they mean me harm? These questions and others like them haunted her, and it was only natural; the conditions of prison force one to consider every ill possibility. Moreover, the shock of her daughter’s death had regressed her thinking from maturity to a somewhat c
At exactly 5:00 the next day, the prison bars were struck in preparation for work and to announce the second day. Lara and the rest woke up to those resounding sounds, and when she woke, she stretched her hands to the sides, saying in terror: "Susie, Susie!!" When she saw the prisoners and the rest of the walls, bars, and female guards around her, she returned her gaze to the side and felt a lump in her throat because she realized that she was currently in prison, not at home, and that Susie and every sign of peace had been erased and had departed. While she was in the trance of her thoughts, the female guard kicked her on her leg, saying: "Move, it is time for work, you idiot!" Lara replied: "Ah.. I am sorry....."Lara stood, exhausted, and walked before the female guard. She and the other prisoners headed to wash their faces from an ancient well set aside from the facade of the Great Square. As soon as Lara rubbed the water onto her face, she closed her eyes and then opened them, co
As Lara walked, she would glance back every now and then at her garment, which had become trampled by anyone and everyone who passed... A female guard grabbed her and led her to the collective bath, and when she reached it, the guards threw scissors at them to cut their hair down to the neck. All the women began looking with fear and trepidation, and Lara clutched her hair in refusal. The female guards shouted at them: "If you do not cut your hair, we will cut your fingers with the scissors, move, one, two, three, fo........." Then the prisoners began cutting their hair. Lara was tearing up as she cut her hair, her long red hair that reached the end of her back,, it was falling lifelessly to the ground, lock after lock, until it reached the end of the neck. After finishing, they began bathing in yellowish water. The floor was full of hair, mud, and the water which was originally a place of filth. They were bathing and Lara, the water was cold, pounding the bone, when Lara poured it ov
The carriage lurched to a final, jolting halt. Immediately, the guards began dragging the prisoners out, pulling at them with the frantic urgency of a shepherd herding his flock into a new pasture. They moved with a feverish pace, as if they carried a precious loot they were desperate to hand over. Lara walked beside her guard without resistance, yet her voice betrayed her; she pleaded for him to release her in a broken, almost childlike tone—a staccato of whimpers that fell on deaf and indifferent ears...They stood, a bedraggled line of souls, facing the prison. It was a vast, blackened fortress that seemed to touch the very sky, looming like the Angel of Death—a silent titan indifferent to everything save for its grim duty of delivering the spirits within to the heavens. The air was a suffocating cocktail: the scent of wild herbs and damp earth clashing with a piercing cold and the underlying, sickly sweet stench of rot...The guard’s voice ripped through the air: "GATEKEEPER!"Wit
The prisoners were forced back into the carriage, and the grueling journey resumed. Lara was in a state of childlike dissociation; the violence she had just witnessed and the guard’s roaring threats had left her trembling. She felt the danger as a looming, nameless shadow, but it wasn’t because of Mark Christo himself. In fact, he didn’t even cross her mind for a moment. She whispered to herself, "What difference does it make? None. Robert was just like this. I won’t feel a thing..."The poor soul had no idea that Robert’s cruelty was nothing compared to the absolute tyranny and ruthless brutality of Mark..Her thoughts drifted back to Suzanne, and once again, tears began to flow uncontrollably. Despite the agonizing pain the memory of Susie brought, it remained her only sanctuary—her only source of safety and shelter in this cold world...Lara began to exhibit signs of mental regression, a sort of psychological withdrawal that bordered on feeblemindedness. She played incessantly with







