Ivan’s Wife is heading toward the finish line. The characters have been fun to write and sometimes heartbreaking. In this later chapter, Dimitri faces his death with unexpected courage. He has certainly evolved from the first draft—in a pleasing way—at least to me. In this excerpt, Dimitri is in a Soviet hospital heading to the toughest prison in Russia:
It was a march through hell. The clink of the metal shackles dragging on the cement floor was the only sound. The hallway stunk of ammonia and old pipes. The rooms were empty; the only inhabitants seemed to be the nurses and guards. Hadn’t seen a single patient. That made me wonder if this was a place Ivan had set up for my execution. Maybe I wasn’t on my way to the showers at all. Couldn’t help wonder if I might be headed for the dead end room the nurse had talked about. Maybe Ivan just wanted to get my death over with.
Logically, I should be shaking, pleading, hyperventilating, and coming out of my skin. But I wasn’t. I was pissed. Furious. My body stiffened, and I held my head up. Yeah, I was held captive and bound in chains, but I felt strong. Fueled by outrage and a shitload of anger. I never hurt anyone. Never cheated on my wife. I always opened the door for a woman and remembered my manners. I never took a penny from anyone that I hadn’t earned. The sorrow on a child’s face made me cry. The creases on an elder’s face and the weariness in their stride made me want to talk to them. Yes, I drank to excess, did drugs, and abused myself. I did. But the only person I never loved was myself.
