Wicked Deceptions - Amy Cecil Page 0,6

were safe. The news was devastating and has left a void in my heart so big, I do not know if it will ever heal. I feel so lost. I don’t even know who I am anymore.

Mikhail will not tell me who he is in contact with, so I just need to trust him. I know he is right, but it is hard not knowing what is happening at home and having no contact with anyone myself. I desperately miss my family and mourn their loss every day.

On the bright side, Mikhail made enough money this week to ensure we have food on the table for one meal a day. Some weeks, he does not make so much. Our roof leaks over our heads, but unlike some, we actually have a roof. I should be grateful for what we have, and most of the time, I am. But there are days when I hate my life so much, it’s not worth living anymore. Then I look at Mikhail, and I’m reminded he’s working hard for us and I am all he has. It would be selfish for me to leave him like that, and I vow I never will. He’s sacrificed too much for me.

Mikhail has been working in a factory that makes ammunition for the war. He insists I must stay home, even though I have insisted on several occasions that I am perfectly capable of working. But he refuses and is adamant his wages are enough.

It angers me to the point that today, while he is away at the factory, I decide to venture out and procure myself a job. It can only help, and once I get the job, he will see how much two incomes will make a difference. And really, how hard can this be? I am educated. I speak four languages fluently. I’m smart and perfectly capable of learning just about anything.

Apparently, that is not enough. I quickly learn I do not have the qualifications to obtain a job during these times. It doesn’t help that everyone is looking for work and available positions are scarce. I return home saddened and discouraged. Life has to be better than this.

Once I am home, I prepare dinner. Germany’s campaign of unrestricted warfare has caused a food shortage across Europe. We have resorted to standing in food queues to get what we are allotted, and it isn’t much. Because the war took men away from their farms, agricultural output has decreased and prices for meats and vegetables have become astronomical. Frankly, I don’t know how we will survive. More and more people are fleeing the war zones, and the cities with food to distribute are getting overcrowded. The demand outweighs supply, and if we keep this up, we will all eventually starve.

When dinner is finished, Leonid and I wait for Mikhail to return home. He never works the same hours, so some days he is home for dinner but others he arrives late into the night. A wave of dread washes over me when it gets later and later without him. I wonder where he is. It is much later than normal, and it’s not like him to be this late without sending word home. Jonathan, a neighbor who works with Mikhail, might know.

Leonid knows I am worried, and by the expression on his face, he is too. “I can’t take this anymore. I am going across the hall to see if Jonathan knows anything about Mikhail. Perhaps he knows why Mikhail has been detained, and my brother just forgot to let me know.” I put on my shawl and make my way to their flat, which is across the hall from ours.

They are a lovely couple and really have taken my brother and me under their wing. They are in their the mid to late forties. We have become good friends with them, and it is nice to have someone to visit and talk with. I know this is not a time for visiting, not like we did in Russia, but having someone to talk to makes me feel less lonely and helps the sadness go away. It also gives me some semblance of normalcy, something I so desperately crave.

“I should go with you,” he replies.

“No, you stay here in case Mikhail returns. If we are not at home, he will worry.”

Leonid nods, and I walk out the door.

I knock on our neighbor’s door, and Jonathan answers. “Katerina, it’s awfully late. Is everything all right?”