The Incredible Events in Women's Cell Number 3 by Kira Yarmysh

Author:Kira Yarmysh
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grove Atlantic
Published: 2023-02-03T20:10:46+00:00

From immediately beneath the window of their cell came the scratching sound of a broom that brought Anya back to reality. The detention center gates opened with a screech, and a large vehicle, probably a garbage truck, came wheezing in. She wondered why her father had asked which detention center she was being held in.

“Time for breakfast!” the blonde policewoman who had taken Anya’s fingerprints told them through the peephole.

Natasha and Ira’s bunk came to life. Anya heard Natasha twisting and turning in the top bunk, sniffing and muttering. Ira jumped up like a runner hearing the starting pistol.

“Hurrah!” she exclaimed in a loud whisper, giving her toothless grin. “I’m going home today!”

“Well, some good news at last,” Natasha muttered from above, though she didn’t sound happy. Then again, everything under the sun incurred Natasha’s displeasure.

Ira was fluttering around the cell from the washbasin to the bed and putting her clothes on along the way. Noticing that Anya was awake, she immediately rushed over to her.

“Come to breakfast with us!”

“I don’t want to.”

“But it’s delicious, honestly!”

“I really just don’t want to.”

“Why doesn’t anybody ever come for breakfast?”

“Why are you p-pestering her? She told you, she doesn’t want to,” Natasha hissed at her.

Ira was immediately silent, but the blissful smile never left her face. She was usually like this only under the influence of Lyrica.

Natasha and Ira went off and the cell lapsed into silence. Anya did not notice herself dozing off.

She woke again when her cellmates returned. Natasha’s face lacked its usual expression of antipathy, which given her emotional range could be taken for an expression of unbounded joy. She was triumphantly bearing a new bottle of hot water.

“The s-servers gave it to us,” she explained, looking at Anya, although she had not asked.

“So how is Andrey?”

“Who?” Natasha stopped beside Anya’s bunk and frowned as she tried to recall.

“The server who got scalded with boiling water yesterday,” Anya said, an image of the dark canteen full of specters flashing into her mind before she shook it off.

“Oh, him . . . We d-didn’t see him. I don’t know.”

Natasha went over to the locker as if it was a matter of no consequence and started making tea. Anya gave her a dark look. She found Natasha’s indifference objectionable. After all, it was she who had tied her stupid string holder around the bottle and caused Andrey to be injured, and now she didn’t even know who Anya was talking about.

The morning was little different from other mornings. People woke up and immediately started smoking. Natasha, slurping her tea, was languidly swearing at Ira for some reason, not even because she was angry but just out of habit. In response Ira only laughed, today even more blissful than usual, annoying everybody with her unclouded joy. Maya asked Diana to lend her a comb and, tossing her mane of hair to one side, sat like Rapunzel stroking it with the comb. For someone who had spent five days in a cell without taking a shower, she looked unforgivably glamorous.

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