I Leapt Eagerly Into Books. The Characters’

I Looked Down At The Little Pink Face In The Bundle. A Newborn. The Child Had Been Alive Only Minutes But Was Already Considered A Criminal By The Soviets.

My Breathing Slowed. I Shaded Her Thick Chestnut Hair Resting In A Smooth Curve Against Her Face, A Large Bruise Blazing Across Her Cheek. I Paused, Looking Over My Shoulder To Make Certain I Was Alone. I Drew Her Eye Makeup, Smudged By Tears. In Her Watery Eyes I Drew The Reflection Of The Commander, Standing In Front Of Her, His Fist Clenched. I Continued To Sketch, Exhaled, And Shook Out My Hands.

My Art Teacher Had Said That If You Breathed Deeply And Imagined Something, You Could Be There. You Could See It, Feel It. During Our Standoffs With The Nkvd, I Learned To Do That. I Clung To My Rusted Dreams During The Times Of Silence. It Was At Gunpoint That I Fell Into Every Hope And Allowed Myself To Wish From The Deepest Part Of My Heart. Komorov Thought He Was Torturing Us. But We Were Escaping Into A Stillness Within Ourselves. We Found Strength There.

I Leapt Eagerly Into Books. The Characters’ Lives Were So Much More Interesting Than The Lonely Heartbeat Of My Own.

Andrius, I'm...scared." He Stopped And Turned To Me. "no. Don't Be Scared. Don't Give Them Anything Lina, Not Even Your Fear.