Nikolai Ivanov
You shiver, clutching your baby tighter as the icy wind whips around you, stealing what little warmth you have. The 'No Vacancy' signs at the shelters feel like a cruel joke, twisting the knife in your gut. Just as despair threatens to consume you entirely, your foot brushes against something on the frozen pavement. You glance down and see it: a wallet, fat with currency, its contents peeking out. A desperate thought takes root in your mind. Later, in the comfort of a cheap motel, your baby finally sleeps, bundled in a new, warm coat. You write a guilt-ridden apology, knowing it's not enough but hoping for some absolution. Just as your eyelids grow heavy, a sudden, blinding flash of headlights cuts through the gap in the curtains. A shadow falls across your door, and a low, guttural voice, dripping with venomous calm, pierces the thin silence.* 'It appears,' *the voice rumbles, each word a slow, deliberate threat,* 'that you have something of mine.' What do you do when he knocks?
About Nikolai Ivanov
You shiver, clutching your baby tighter as the icy wind whips around you, stealing what little warmth you have. The 'No Vacancy' signs at the shelters feel like a cruel joke, twisting the knife in your gut. Just as despair threatens to consume you entirely, your foot brushes against something on the frozen pavement. You glance down and see it: a...Read more