Rakowiecka 37

It was cold when I returned. The wind was blowing and the rain was falling. It wasn't heavy, but combined with the wind, it was taking its toll. I didn't have a hat. I just turned up the collar of my leather jacket and walked fast enough not to break into a run. I turned onto my street. I like it, among other things, because of the trees that grow so densely here. They seemed to create a sort of baroque corridor with a high, arched ceiling. I entered the stairwell. My footsteps were very distinct. Sounds bounced off the walls as I climbed the stairs to the second floor. I don't like being heard so clearly. I think I got that from the war. I opened the door quietly so as not to wake my wife and child. Trying to make as little noise as possible, I took off my jacket, hung it in the hallway, and went into the kitchen. I was pouring tea into a glass when I heard the sound of creaking parquet flooring behind me. I turned and saw Zosia, my wife.

"Why did you come back so late?" I couldn't sleep.

She said in a hushed voice.

"So you're still worried about me."

I smiled.

"Yes. Imagine me worrying. Satisfied?

" "What kind of question is that? Of course. I'm willing to be late more often if it proves I'm still not indifferent to my wife.

" "Yes. Just kidding. I'll develop a nervous breakdown and you'll have a real problem.

" "I'll try to prevent that."

I walked over to her and wrapped my arms around her waist. She was warm with sleep.

"Couldn't you sleep? Your wonderful blue eyes tell me otherwise. This isn't over." I leaned down to sniff her arm. "I smell sleep here. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"No, I don't." She replied with a fake shy smile. "I fell asleep, but I dreamed about you. You were running through the dark streets to your beloved wife. "

We laughed simultaneously.

"What a woman. You didn't make a mistake."

"You're wet." Get yourself cleaned up. If you're lucky, I won't be asleep when you're finished.

So I'm rushing, rushing.

She smiled and quietly entered the room.

I went into the bathroom, washed my face and teeth. I glanced at the mirror above the sink and smiled at my reflection. As I was leaving the bathroom, I noticed Zosia was in the baby's room. She was leaning over the crib, and I stood in the doorway, watching, just watching. The wind-blown rain was beating against the windows. The trees were swaying. In the dark room, my wife's nightgown gently reflected the light and rustled softly. I looked at her shapely hands, at the hair falling over her cheeks. She was whispering to our son.

I stood beside her. She looked at me. Her eyes gleamed with a certain light. She had tears in her eyes, or maybe it was just a trick of the light. I don't know. She looked back at the baby.

"Perhaps you'll tell me now where you were?" she whispered.

"I told you when I left. Nothing's changed. I was at Romek's. We had to refine the project.

" "How's the progress?

" "Almost everything's finished. Just the details.

" "I'm glad." She looked into my eyes again. "Come on, my busy man.

" "Go alone. I'll be back soon."

I approached the crib and looked at Michał, my son. I couldn't shake the feeling of amazement whenever I looked at him. He slept so peacefully. He was only a year old. It's hard to describe my feelings at such a moment. I felt such pride and responsibility. I have a son. I realized this every time I looked at him or thought about him, and each time it was new to me, as if I couldn't get used to it. I touched his hand. It was so small, soft, and warm. He grabbed my index finger. I stood there, staring at him, unable to move. What a scene. A man stands over a cradle, his finger holding a one-year-old, unable to move.

I don't know how long I spent like that. I shook myself and returned to reality. Rain lashed the window, the clock ticked. I left the cradle and went to the bedroom. I undressed and lay down next to Zosia.

"Here I am. We waited?

" "No," she whispered, smiling with her eyes closed.

She turned to me and cuddled up to me. We lay there without speaking. There was no need. We enjoyed our closeness. Her hair smelled wonderful. I don't know what to call it. Besides, it doesn't need to be called anything. Her closeness made me happy.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"About strawberries.

" "And what else?

" "About flowers

." "Flowers?

" "Yes, the ones on your nightgown.

" "You're a true naturalist.

" "When you're with me, for some reason, I often find myself thinking about nature."

"For some reason?" I think you could give me a good lecture on this if you wanted.

"Honey," I said, leaning toward her and looking into her eyes. "I'd rather not say anything right now."

I leaned down and kissed her on the lips. She closed her eyes, as did I. I felt her tongue, her sweet lips. I heard her breathing through her nose. I touched her hip with my hand, then her stomach and breasts. She was magnificent and she was with me. Her closeness, warmth, and beauty intoxicated me. She pulled off my nightgown. Kissing her face, I touched her calves. My hand ran up her leg. Higher, to the knee, to the thigh, to her buttocks. The nightgown was long and definitely in the way. Zosia tried to undo the buttons behind her neck, and I helped her. We tossed and turned and laughed. She pulled it over her head. She laughed and threaded her fingers through my hair. Lying on top of her, I felt a growing excitement. Her eyes sparkled. A smile played on her lips. She looked into my eyes. She was beautiful, beautiful, and with me…

I was awakened by the sound of a car pulling up in front of the building. I heard the sounds of several people. A bad thought flashed through my mind. I got out of bed.

"What happened?" Zosia asked sleepily.

"I hope it's nothing serious." Someone arrived at the tenement house.

She looked at me and must have read something in my face. She was worried. I put on my pants and went out into the hallway. I heard footsteps on the stairs. They passed the first floor. They were going up. They went up to the second. Some voices.

"This is it."

Banging on the door.

I heard Zosia jump out of bed and hurriedly dressing. I put on my shirt and pants, took a deep breath, and asked, looking through the peephole. I couldn't see anything. It's dark, or they're blocking the view.

"Who's there?

" "Militia. Sławomir Ziębicki?

" "Yes. It's me.

" "Open up. We have a warrant.

" "A warrant for what?

" "You'll see when you open it.

" "I want to see your IDs.

" "Then open up.

" "Put them up to the peephole.

" "There's no light."

"It was still there today, the switch on the left side, next to the door handle.

There was a conversation and a rustle. I didn't hear the switch. One of the men in civilian clothes took his hand off the peephole.

"Yes, there is. Now open it.

" "Please bring your ID card up to the peephole."

I spoke calmly, but my heart was pounding. The man covering the peephole motioned to one of the men. He took out his ID card and held it up.

"Please move it, you can't see anything.

" "Okay, now the rest."

"Sir, don't talk nonsense or we'll break down the door.

" "I also want to see the ID card of the gentleman on the left.

" "Fuck..." one of them cursed.

"Fine. If he wants, I'll show it to him."

He held the ID card up to the peephole. I managed to read that he was from the Ministry of Public Security. He took it away before I even saw the name.

"I didn't read the name." "

You're robbing yourself.

" "I want to see the name.

" "Fine." He held it up.

I read it and felt even more anxious. Like Zabytkowski. I turned my head; Zosia was standing in the hallway. She was already dressed. Tears welled in her eyes.

"Zosia," I said quietly. "Go to Michał. I'll have to… they've come to arrest me."

She threw her arms around me. Something heavy landed in my stomach. I physically felt my heart clench. I felt Zosia's warm tears on my face. Painfully, I pushed her away. I reached for her face and wiped her tears.

"Honey. I'll be back. Report to Romek. He'll know what to do. You have to be brave. Don't worry about me. I'll manage. I love you."

I couldn't stop looking into her eyes. I opened the door. Three men entered the hallway. They surrounded me and grabbed me by the arms.

"Let me go! What's going on?"

A scuffle ensued. An officer came in and said,

"Let him go."

"What do you gentlemen want?

" "A warrant has been issued for your arrest.

" "Show me."

The man named Zabytkowski smiled, approached me, and said quietly

, "Fracture, or we'll drag you out of here like a dog, in front of your family."

I involuntarily glanced at the door to the room where my wife and child were.

"Where are you taking me?

" "To Mokotów.

" "I want to see my wife before I leave."

He looked at me with amusement.

"If you want to leave peacefully, we'll go now.

" "Sir, my wife has the right to know where you're taking me."

We eyed each other for a moment. He smiled faintly, but it wasn't a friendly smile.

"Okay. Let him through and keep an eye on him."

I opened the door. Zosia was standing by the crib. She was holding her son. I went over to her. I hugged her and her son.

"Zosia, my love. They've come to arrest me. I have to go with them. They're taking me to Mokotów. I'll be fine. Remember what I told you. "

She remained silent. I kissed her.

"Enough. Let's go." "Zabytkowski said.

I touched her cheek. I kissed the baby.

"Let's go," he repeated louder and more firmly.

Michał woke up and started crying. Zosia stood there and still didn't say a word. She just looked at me, and my heart broke. Let her say something. She put the baby in the cradle, came to me, and said something that has become deeply etched in my memory.

"I'll wait. Take care of yourself. I love you."

They came to me. I couldn't wait any longer. I put on my shoes, but I didn't lace them. There was no way. They handcuffed me. The baby was crying. They led me up the stairs. Zosia ran after me.

"Sławek." The child's cries grew louder. "Let him close the door. Let him close it!" One of the policemen escorting me stepped on my shoe from behind, almost causing it to fall off. I tried to lean forward, but they pushed me. The policemen walking beside me took my arms. I tried not to lose the shoe.

I got into the car, an old, worn-out Mercedes. We drove in silence. I sat in the back, with the policemen sitting on either side of me. I watched the streetlights reflecting off the wet road and thought. I thought about my wife and child. I asked myself if she would make it. Would her friends and family help her? That's how my journey went.

We pulled up to Rakowiecka Street. We got out of the car. It was cold, and I was wearing only my shirt, pants, and shoes. The blowing wind brought clarity back to my mind. I realized I hadn't thought about myself yet, about what awaited me. I looked at the prison building. It had several stories. Above him, the wind chased the clouds away in the sky, allowing me to see the stars. I was reminded of the old lullaby, "Oh, little star that shone when I saw the world..." I don't know why I thought of that melody now.

After the search, I was led to the basement. It was dark, cold, and damp. One guard walked in front, another behind. I was locked in cell number 12. There were no windows. A bed stood against the wall. They didn't unchain me.

The lock clicked, and I listened to the retreating footsteps until everything fell silent. I glanced at the handcuffs and looked around the cell. It was painted yellow. The walls were scuffed, and the mattress on the bed was dirty. Watching this, I realized the situation I was in. I had heard a lot about the arrests of Home Army soldiers and the way they were interrogated. It was talked about all over Warsaw. Many of my wartime friends, with whom I had served in the partisans, were incarcerated. I hadn't heard of anyone being released.

I couldn't lie down and sleep. Too many thoughts were swirling through my head. So I paced from wall to wall. About two hours passed like this. I'm not entirely sure. My watch was taken. I heard footsteps in the corridor. Someone stopped in front of my cell and, rattling a key, opened the door.

"He's not asleep," said the first guard.

"He'll need another one." They both laughed.

I said nothing.

"Let's go."

I was led through dimly lit corridors, then up a flight of stairs. We passed cells, finally arriving at a metal door. The door opened, and I was ushered in. I immediately noticed a window high up, near the ceiling, through which I could see the sky. Perhaps the lack of a window in the cell I was in caused this. In the room, there was a desk against the wall, and two chairs behind it. On the other side, there was a single chair. The walls were the same color as the cell. There was a lamp on the desk. The guards left me alone and closed the door. This gave me time to prepare for the interrogation, as there was nothing else waiting for me at the moment. After a few minutes, I heard sounds, the door opened, and two men entered the room.

They stared at me for a moment as if I were some unusual specimen. One sat behind the desk, the other followed me from wall to wall.

"We have you, Mr. Ziębicki," said the one behind the desk. I didn't react.

"Yes. We have you, and we won't be releasing you anytime soon."

"What am I accused of?

" "You'll find out everything in due time. Don't be so impatient. We have patience. We do. But"—he paused theatrically—"I don't advise testing it. I don't advise it.

" "Show me the arrest warrant.

" "There's no warrant. In fact, you're not even registered. You're not here. Do you understand? You're not here.

" "I refuse to test anything.

" "You refuse? Ha. And why is that?" he asked.

"I won't answer questions while I'm in handcuffs; I don't know anything about the reason for my imprisonment.

" "Whether you won't answer remains to be seen. That remains to be seen. Now you'll get a cozy cell and time to think. But before that happens, we'll have a talk. Do you know why we locked you up?

" "I don't know. I wasn't told anything about it.

" "We weren't told?" He feigned surprise. "This will have to be fixed. It can't be like this. I'll tell you why we locked you up. We locked you up for actions aimed at sabotaging the People's Republic of Poland." For working on behalf of capitalist countries whose goal is to weaken our power." He eyed me curiously. Seeing I didn't react, he asked. "Aren't you going to answer that?

" "I won't speak while I'm handcuffed.

" "Oh, handcuffed." He nodded to the man behind me. He left the room. He returned a moment later, holding a key in his hand. He looked again at the man behind the desk and, seeing his consent, removed my handcuffs.

"Okay. Now we can talk. So, what do you say to my accusations?

" "I've never worked on behalf of a foreign country. During the war, I fought against the Germans. I have nothing to reproach myself for. I believe what I did was right, and if I had to do it again, I wouldn't hesitate."

The burly man nodded and smiled.

"I see our collaboration will be fruitful. I like people who are confident. Very well. Now you will be escorted to your cell."

He pressed a button on the wall, and two guards entered the cell. "Exit." I stood to avoid being jostled. I was led to the same cell I had been in before. The door was closed. I stood with my back to it and heard the sounds of the guards' footsteps behind me.

The light in the cell was off. I couldn't see anything ahead of me. Total darkness. I had no desire to see beyond it. Besides, I had no other option; the switch was in the hallway. It occurred to me that there was no yellow wall in front of me, nor was there a bed with a dirty, stinking mattress, and I clung to that thought. I strained my eyes. I tried to penetrate the tarry void before me. It was no use. No results. I tried again. I strained all my senses, directing them to the undefined spot ahead. My wide eyes strained to catch even the slightest perceptible signal, a ray of light. Nothing. Total darkness. The dampness and cold further intensified the feeling of emptiness. No sounds reached me except my own breathing. I rubbed my arms, giving me goosebumps. The faint sound of a hand rubbing my skin. I closed my eyes and felt relief. My conjunctivae must have dried from staring too hard without blinking. I opened my eyes. No difference. I closed them again. I opened them again. Darkness enveloped me, and I fell into a strange state. I lost my sense of orientation. I knew I was standing, but I didn't know which way I was facing. My feet seemed rooted to the ground. I knew I could move, but I didn't want to lose the feeling of nothingness surrounding me.

I imagined myself as a god. The world had not yet been created. No matter, no time, no energy. There was only space, or perhaps there was no space either? I rejoiced at the thought of my divinity. There was nothing around me. There was only consciousness. Pure consciousness and the willingness to create. Creation. The thought was like a pebble dropped from a high mountain. Suddenly, images began to flash before my eyes. Energy began to form. Energy flowed before my eyes, shimmering and transforming. It lasted only a moment. Immediately, matter was created. It jumped, shimmering with behavior reminiscent of Brownian motion. Then I saw universes and galaxies forming. They spun, changing shapes. The arms of the galaxies spun, and they themselves moved away from each other…

I don't know how long it lasted. I blinked. I touched my face. My head hurt. I was tired. Slowly opening my eyes, I sat up in bed. I buried my face in my hands. My elbows rested on my knees. The headache didn't subside. I lay on my side. I closed my eyes. Mini white spots flickered before my eyes. Fatigue quickly made itself felt. I rolled over onto my stomach and fell asleep after a while.

When I woke up, the first sensation I felt was a headache. With each heartbeat, the pulse in my temples hurt, and the humming sound intensified the sensation. It made it difficult to think clearly. A moment later, I realized I was cold. When I lay down, I hadn't even thought to cover myself up. Now I was shivering. This wasn't normal. I was sick. I felt like I had a fever. I must have caught a cold when I got home last night. Last night? What time was it? Fuck. I was lying on a stinking mattress, covered with a blanket. I was shivering with cold and didn't even know what time it was. Angry with myself, I breathed deeply.

Stop feeling sorry for myself! I calmed down. I couldn't lose my composure. I covered myself with a blanket. I couldn't stay here long. They were supposed to bring me breakfast in the morning, so it was probably still early. I gave in to exhaustion, closed my eyes, and after a moment, I fell into a fitful, feverish sleep.

I was awakened by the click of a lock being unlocked, and a moment later, the light came on. I opened my eyes and sat up in bed. Meanwhile, the guard had placed a bowl of soup and coffee on the floor for me. Without a word, he closed the door and left. "Good manners aren't your strong suit, mea amicis," I muttered. I took the soup; the metal bowl was warm. It didn't look appetizing, but I was hungry. I hadn't eaten since the afternoon of the previous day, when Romek had treated me to lunch. The soup was thin. A few vegetables were floating in it. I didn't see any trace of meat. "Well. Enjoy," I said to myself. I took a spoon and began eating. When you're hungry, many things taste good. This definitely didn't appeal to me. I forced it down and slowly drank the coffee. This tasted much better. It was strong, and soon after I finished it, I felt better. My hands felt warmer and my thoughts clearer. The headache subsided. After the meal, I was walking around my cell, thinking. Walking sometimes helps with that. Various thoughts raced through my mind. I stopped for a long moment next to her when I heard footsteps. I didn't realize they meant anything other than a visit to my cell, so I expected the same thing this time. I was right.

A guard opened the cell and said, "We're going for questioning." He approached me with handcuffs. I held out my hands, and handcuffed, I was led to the interrogation room I was already familiar with.

A man was already waiting for me there. When I entered, he scowled at me. He didn't make a good impression. His short dark hair, aquiline nose, low forehead, and bushy eyebrows gave the impression that he was a man not to be trusted.

"Sit down," he growled. I was still standing. He looked up at me from the sheets of paper on the desk. "I said, fuck you, sit down. Now!" I looked him in the eye and said calmly.

- I will not sit and allow myself to be addressed in this way.

"What?" he rose from his chair, placing his thick hands on the desk. "I've got some haughty son of a bitch. I'll toughen you up." He pressed a button, and a guard entered the room. He looked questioningly at the commander and me, and seeing me standing calmly, he didn't know what to do.

"Get the son of a bitch!" he roared, and stepped out from behind the desk. My hands were cuffed. So I stood in the corner of the room in a defensive stance and, trying to remain calm, said,

"I'll defend myself." They ignored this, so I grabbed the chair and tilted it to the side, suggesting a swing if anyone approached. This stopped them. My would-be interrogator glared at me furiously, and it was clear he would have thrown no punches if he had the chance. Adrenaline immediately stopped the pain in my head. I felt strong despite the handcuffs on my wrists. Two more men rushed into the room.

"What's going on?" one of them asked.

"He's putting up a real fucking fight.

" "Then he needs to be beaten to death. What are you waiting for?" I braced myself for the worst. I leaned forward, spread my legs, and waited. In an instant, a thought occurred to me. Without considering the consequences, I shouted,

"I'll kill you sons of bitches! Let one of you come near me. You'll get nothing from me! What are you waiting for, you sons of bitches? Give it! Give it! Who goes first, you cowards!" I screamed. This caught them off guard, and I stood ready, certain I'd achieved the desired effect. They looked at each other uncertainly. They stood straight, and one of them raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Calm down. No one here wants to hurt you. We were just testing you. Put the chair down," he said calmly, his voice gentle. "Nothing will happen to you." He suddenly lunged at me. I could have hit him with the chair, but I didn't. Something told me they weren't going to beat me. He ran into me, and the rest followed suit. I thrashed, but it was no use. I fell to the floor. They grabbed my arms and legs so tightly I couldn't move. During the struggle, I got a blow to the nose, and now blood was pouring from it. I smeared their clothes and watched with satisfaction as they struggled to keep me in check. One of them stuffed a cloth into my mouth. When I stopped struggling, they waited a moment, and one of them asked.

"You're going to charge?" I shook my head. "You're not going to scream?" I nodded this time. "Fine," he replied, taking the rag from my mouth. "Put him on the chair." They lifted me and sat me down. They released me, but didn't take their eyes off me. One of them came out, brought a bowl of water and a white cloth. "Here. Wash yourself." I rose from the chair and knelt by the bowl. I wet the cloth and began wiping my nose and blood-smeared face. When I was finished, two guards led me out of the room and to my cell. As I walked away, I looked into the eyes of my would-be torturer. He was still furious. "I'm not finished with you yet," he hissed quietly. They didn't unchain me in the cell. I lay on my side on the bed. I felt the adrenaline slowly wearing off. The headache returned, though it was less intense. Lying there, I felt hot. At first, I thought it was probably because of my recent experiences in the interrogation room, but I quickly concluded I had a fever. I covered myself with a blanket. The handcuffs were digging into my wrists, so I rested my hands on my elbows.

As I lay there, I felt the heat radiating from me. I pulled back the blanket. It helped a little. I began to imagine myself at home. It came easily. Being feverish, I saw everything clearly and very real. I lay fully clothed on the made bed, and next to me lay Zosia. She was wearing a floral dress, the one I love so much. Outside, I could see the crown of a swaying tree. Fresh, fragrant air was blowing in through the open window. It was summer. The rustling of the tree soothed me. I leaned toward Zosia. She lay with her back to me, sleeping. I approached her and put my arm around her, pressing it under Zosia's arm. She stirred slightly. She was so warm and fragrant that I felt a physical pain. Her closeness caused this. I snuggled closer to her. I buried my face in her hair. It tickled me, and it was a wonderful caress. I savored the moment, having the woman I loved so close to me. Sunlight streamed in through the window, and I felt it on my face.

Zosia woke up and sighed softly. "Are you already here? I'm so glad." She smiled at me. "Yes, I am. Have you been waiting?" "As always, my love." While we talked, I ran my fingers over her hand. We fell silent. The sun streamed through the window, warming us, and we enjoyed each other's closeness, the feeling of security. I touched the palm of her hand with my fingers, and she, meeting my caress, turned it over. I played with her fingers. I touched the tips of my fingers, feeling the moist warmth. My hand traced her wrist and arm. I touched her hip. My hand slid down to her thigh, then lower to her knee, to her calves. The dress reached slightly below her knees. Zosia moved and placed her leg between mine. As I moved back up her body, my hand was under the dress. I traced her shapely legs, touching her soft, warm thighs. I snuggled closer to her, to which she responded immediately by pressing her buttocks against mine. This gesture had an even greater effect on me. I pulled my hand from under her dress and touched her stomach, only to touch her breasts a moment later. They were wonderfully soft and warm. I felt her nipples beneath the dress; she wasn't wearing a bra, pressing against the thin material. My arousal intensified. I felt a stronger desire, amazed at the reality of my vision. Zosia turned to me, lying on her back. Her eyes were closed. She was giving me a clear signal. Now I had her completely before me, surrendered to me, to my caress. She was breathing through her nose. Her breasts gently heaved, rising with each inhalation. I had an irresistible urge to touch her, but not through the material. My hand wandered over her body, from her calf to her breasts. As I touched them, Zosia raised her hand and placed it on mine. She opened her eyes and smiled at me.

Suddenly, the vision vanished, replaced by another, new one. I was walking along a country road. I knew it. I sometimes walked this way, wanting to escape from my daily routine. A warm breeze brushed my face, cooling my sun-warmed body. Cumulus clouds drifted across the sky, casting shadows on the ground. These quickly passed across the meadow, only to reveal the sun a moment later. To my right, in the distance, I saw a forest. I knew where I was going and why, but I couldn't put my thoughts into words. I walked, observing the lush grasses bending in the wind. Their rustle soothed me. The greenery was comforting. The wind soothed my thoughts. I noticed a wild apple tree growing near the forest. Now I realized I was heading towards it. I had often rested in its shade, gazing up at the blue sky, feeling the immense expanse above me. This feeling was incomparable to any other. In such moments, I thought about space, about the stars. I also thought that there was no better place for us than where we were. I breathed freely, deeply.

I approached the apple tree; the tree was covered in white clusters of blossoms. I wanted to lie down in my old spot, but I noticed a rotten apple there. I stared at it for a moment, then averted my gaze and looked up at the sky. A hawk or eagle was circling high, so high it was difficult to see against the bright sky. I lay down in the tall grass, placing my hands under my head. I could smell the meadow. Insects buzzed around me, the wind caressed the grass, stirring the leaves and blossoms of the apple trees.

I was still deeply surprised by the reality of what I was seeing and feeling. This reality struck me with all its improbability. A blade of grass tickled my ear, and the intense scent of meadow and earth hung in the air. Staring up at the sky, I thought about where I really was. I was in a cell, cold, damp, and stinking. I toyed with the reality of my imagination. The meadow and the tree rustled. I closed my eyes. Still the humming sound and the sun, which I could feel on my cheek. The humming and the warmth. The heat. The humming…

I woke up with a bad taste in my mouth. I must have slept a long time. I felt a sense of lost time. It might sound strange considering where I was, but that's how I felt. I touched my forehead. It wasn't as hot as before. I felt dizzy, but that feeling gradually faded. The light in the cell was on. I got out of bed. My shoulder muscles ached, and I also felt a runny nose. I spent the rest of the time exercising and thinking. I felt my subconscious working intensely while my conscious generated ideas. Time passed in this way when I heard sounds in the corridor again. The cell was unlocked.

"We're going," the guard informed me.

"Tell me what time it is?" he checked his watch.

"6:31 PM.

" "Thank you." I left the cell; another guard was waiting for me in the corridor. With one guard behind me and the other in front, I was led to a room I knew well. There, the man who had first interrogated me was waiting for me.

"Good morning, Mr. Ziębicki. Please sit down." He gestured to a chair. "You've made a mess, and I thought everything would go smoothly with you.

" "Good morning," I replied. "Please don't talk to me like I'm a child. If you're referring to yesterday's incident, I had to defend myself.

" "Defend yourself?" You attacked the officer and the guards who were interrogating you. Do you know what the penalty is for that? You'll get an additional sentence for that.

" "I was the one attacked.

" "You don't seem to understand the situation you're in. We're calling the shots. If you haven't figured that out yet," he added louder, "you will soon. Got it?" he finished, almost shouting.

"I'll interrogate you now," he said, his voice calmer. "And you better be polite."

"I won't answer while I'm handcuffed."

"Cuffed? You're dangerous. You'll stay like this unless, out of the goodness of my heart, I order you uncuffed. You're on my side here." He fell silent for a moment. "I thought you were more sensible. Everything could have gone much easier. No one here will babysit you...

" "I expect humane treatment.

" "And who's treating you badly here? What? More than one tough guy like you has sung it all, every word. It won't be any different with you." I remained silent. "So you won't answer. Fine. I thought you were an intelligent man."

He pressed a button. A guard entered the room.

"Call Wolny." He stood up from behind the desk, looked at me, and waited silently. A few minutes later, my interrogator from yesterday entered the room. "Gentlemen, I already know each other. I don't need to introduce you. I'll leave you alone now." He nodded knowingly to Wolny and left. Wolny, meanwhile, walked around behind me, slowly sat down behind the desk, and looked me over. "We'll have a different talk today, boy." He smiled. "You think you're so tough. You probably think so. You're wrong. I've broken down sons of bitches like you." He spat on the concrete floor. "Tougher than you cracked and said whatever I wanted, blurted it out with blood and teeth." He smiled again, and it was a smile both bitter and angry. "We have methods for people like you. You'll be begging me to listen to you."

He stood up from behind the desk and, walking around me and the desk, continued his monologue.

"You're alone here. Miserably alone, abandoned to your weaknesses. The cell you're in now—or rather, you were—will seem like a cozy nest compared to where I'm sending you now. Two weeks in a prison cell will teach you humility." He laughed hoarsely, and I sensed he was sincere. "Before that happens, and rest assured, I have one more piece of news for you. Your wife, Zosia, is doing well for now." He looked at me as he spoke. A smile played on his lips. I flinched. I glared at him furiously and involuntarily pursed my lips. Every muscle in my body was tense. He noticed this and laughed loudly. "The baby is fine too."

"If anything happens to them, anything you're responsible for..." I struggled to find my voice. I was boiling with rage and helplessness. Now the whole situation appeared in a new light. They were ruthless. I wasn't sure they'd dare take such a step. But even the thought of them carrying out their threat made me shake with nerves. "Calm down. Calm down," I repeated to myself. "That's what he wants—to throw you off balance. Be methodical. Focus. That's the only way you'll cope. Calm down!" I looked at him. He was watching me triumphantly.

"Fine. You win. I'll talk."

"You see. Sometimes you're even a reasonable son of a bitch. But it's not that easy. You see, I can't let you get away with what you did yesterday. No one has ever refused to testify against me. I think you understand that." He sighed, savoring his victory. He was tormenting me and enjoying it. "Sons like you irritate me greatly. Your behavior has ruined my reputation. You see, I have to wipe this stain off now. Now you're going to jail, a special place, you'll see, and we'll meet in two weeks. During that time, you'll be praying that nothing happens to your family. Your woman looks like a real whore." I wanted to lunge at him. This was all he was waiting for. He pulled a rubber baton from an open drawer and struck me hard on the side of the head. I was dizzy. I fell off the chair. "You can't give up. Get up. Get up!" I screamed to myself in my mind. I quickly stood up, staggering slightly. I saw him approaching me, striking my open palm with his baton. I saw double. "See, you sons of bitches," he said calmly, "you're in some real trouble." "I still have a moment. Just a moment. My only chance!" I told myself. From then on, I acted on instinct.

I lunged at him, he swung, then stopped at the last second. I felt the rush of the baton hit my face. It missed my head by millimeters. He swung too hard. He lost his balance. I crashed into him, throwing him against the wall. I kicked him in the groin. He howled in pain. My hands were still cuffed. I hit him with my knees. He hit me in the stomach. He grabbed my leg and threw me up. I hit the concrete floor with a thud. I stood up as fast as I could. I grabbed an overturned chair next to me. I didn't have time to swing. He crashed into me, pinning me to the wall. The chair fell from my hand. He struck me in the leg with the baton, pinning me against the wall with his body. I tripped him. He fell. I grabbed the chair and swung. I slammed the chair into the floor with great force, holding it by the leg. He managed to roll to the side. I was left with a wooden leg. He was holding a rubber baton. I glanced furtively at the door. Someone might have heard the noise; if so, I was finished. He noticed my movement and smiled, showing yellow teeth. Without thinking, I threw my leg out of my hand and grabbed the desk. It was heavy, but the adrenaline and the situation gave me extra strength. I lifted it and swung. I saw his eyes widen with surprise and terror. He didn't have time to escape. He took a blow to the hip and fell. As quickly as I could, I grabbed the wooden leg and swung it, aiming for his head. I heard "No," and struck. Once, twice, three times, four times. Seeing that he had stopped moving, I stood there for a moment, breathing heavily. "You can't afford to rest." I listened to the sounds outside the door. Nothing. I approached Wolny. He wasn't breathing. I felt no remorse. I searched the pockets and drawers of the desk. In his pocket, I found his wallet. Cigarettes, a lighter, and keys. There was nothing of interest in the desk. I put everything back in its place. I threw the remains of the chair into the corner so they wouldn't be visible immediately upon entering. I sat the free man in the chair with his back to the door. I pressed the button and, holding a rubber baton, waited.

My heart was pounding like a hammer on an anvil. A moment later, I heard footsteps. The door opened and a guard entered the room, saying, "What the fuck are you doing to him..." He noticed something was wrong and stopped. I ran out the door and hit him in the head. He lost consciousness and fell to the floor. I dragged him to the wall, locked the door, and searched him. The keys to the handcuffs. Perfect. I took them off, rubbing my sore wrists. I undressed and changed into his clothes. He was of a similar build, and it fit. I took his papers and the rest of the keys from the guard. They looked like they would fit the locks here. Time to leave. I took a few deep breaths through my nose and exhaled through my mouth.

I opened the door and immediately locked it. I left, heading left. I tried to walk casually. "You have to act natural. You're the interrogator, you're the Free One," I said to myself. I tried to follow his lumbering gait, taking large steps and leaning slightly to the side. A grate. I pulled out my keys and began to look through them, glancing at the lock as I went. The third one I checked fitted. The sound of the lock opening delighted me. "This is just the beginning. Concentrate completely." "A stairwell." I descended. My footsteps seemed too loud. "You're the interrogator. You're walking casually. You don't care if someone hears you," I mentally scolded myself. A hallway. I tried to imagine the layout of the building. I wasn't familiar with this place. This was the first floor. I descended. The ground floor. At the end of the hallway, I noticed another grate, and behind it, a guard sitting at a desk. He was reading a newspaper. I hesitated. "Get a grip. Get a grip!" I noticed a light switch on the wall. It might work.

I turned off the light, and the hall was plunged into safe semi-darkness. The guard glanced at me.

I walked, swaying slightly from side to side. "This can't be possible." My heart didn't slow down. The guard stood up. What now? I bowed my head. A few more meters and I'd reach the grate. I started coughing, trying to imitate Wolny's hoarse voice.

"What's the matter, Captain Wlazły? A cold?

" "That's right. Open the grate." I turned my back to them, waiting for the sound of the lock opening. Keys. A turn in the lock. A creak. Now! I turned and fell hard against the grate. The guard, in shock, didn't have time to react. Hit in the face by the metal, he staggered, bleeding from the nose. I caught up with him and knocked him unconscious with a blow from my rubber baton. I dragged him to the restroom and quickly headed for the door. The road to freedom. I noticed a car stop outside. Two men got out. They were heading for the entrance. I hid behind the wall and waited. I glanced at the open grate and cursed myself silently. They went in.

"Where's the guard?

" "I don't know. Maybe he went for a piss.

" "I'll deal with him now.

" "Let him live. He's a human being too. Let's go. There's no time.

" "Let's go."

I heard the creak of the gate opening. I waited a moment and looked out. No one was there. I quickly headed for the exit. Tension was building from inside. Just a few more steps. I opened the door. Ignoring everything, I turned right and walked, trying to be calm. At the same time, I felt everyone watching me. "Calm down. Calm down. You don't have time. Hurry." I hailed a taxi and fifteen minutes later I was in front of my house. I paid the driver, not counting the money, and told him to wait. He didn't protest. Almost running, I burst into the stairwell. I don't know how I found myself on the second floor. Only the doors and walls swirled before my eyes. I tried the doorknob to my apartment. Locked. "Impossible." I knocked.

"Zosia, open up, it's me, Sławek." Silence. "No, it's impossible." The seconds stretched into hours. "Sławek? Is that you?

" "Yes, open up quickly." The lock clicked. The door opened, and Zosia stood behind it. We threw ourselves into each other's arms. "She's with me again. I can't believe it. I can't believe it." I hugged her so tightly, refusing to let go.

"Sławek. Please, what happened?" I came to my senses. I pushed her away.

"We're taking what we need and leaving. There's no time. I escaped from prison." Her eyes widened and her mouth parted.

"There's no time!" She didn't ask me to repeat myself. A few minutes later, with our son in our arms, we emerged, trying to remain calm. We got into a taxi and drove out of town.

A long time passed before I felt safe. The newspapers

didn't mention my escape. I changed my name, my life story. I had many friends from the war who helped me. We left far from Warsaw. Very far. Sometimes, when I get up at dawn, leaving Zosia and my son sleeping, I go outside the house and, looking at the rustling trees, I think about how much I could have lost, how beautiful life is, how fragile and how much we have to fight for it.