he woman stood motionless in front of him. The prisoner had leaned so close that his shadow covered almost her…
He only gave the following order:
“We’re going to the courtyard. Distance between people. No talking.
And the column moved.
Trace of the yard
When the walk was over, the senior warden, Vladimir Kostov, called her into his office.
He was a broad-shouldered man of about fifty, with gray temples and a tired face. He worked in prison for more than twenty years.
Ralitsa knew that some of her colleagues doubted her.
They didn’t say it directly.
But he could see it in their eyes.
“Is she going to handle this block?”
“Isn’t it too dangerous?”
“Why did they send her here?”
Vladimir closed the door.
“You did well.
Ralitsa did not expect this.
“Thanks.
“I saw everything on the cameras. You didn’t give in.
“It didn’t make sense.
“It makes sense. Some employees would start
arguing. Others would have called the team too early. Then there would be jostling, reports and even more tension.
Ralitsa opened her notebook.
“I’m going to write a waiver report.”
“Write it down.” But no embellishment. Only facts.
“Of course.
Vladimir hesitated.
“You should know that Tashev will not stop.
“I know.
“He’ll test your every reaction.
“Then he’ll get the same one.”
The senior guard looked at her.
“What?”
“I’m calm.
For the first time since the morning, he smiled.
“Welcome to Block 3, Doneva.
The letters
In the following weeks, the ridicule did not disappear completely.
Some prisoners continued to smile as Ralitsa passed.
Others deliberately lifted things on the high shelves and asked if there was a need for a chair.
But the tone was different.
Because they already knew that she would not react the way they wanted.
She didn’t pretend not to hear everything.
When
someone crossed the border, she documented.
When someone followed the rules, she was not looking for a reason to provoke him.
When a conflict arose, he did not choose the “strong”, but the right.
That didn’t make her a favorite.
It wasn’t necessary.
One morning a young prisoner named Martin came to her.
He was twenty-three, thin, with cropped hair and constantly strained eyes. He was serving a sentence for theft.
“Mrs. Doneva?” He asked quietly.
“Yes?”
“Can you—” Can you help me with a letter?
She looked at him.
“You can write.”
“I can.” But I don’t know what to say.
Ralitsa led him to the office desk in the common room. She handed him a piece of paper and a pen.
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