Finding a way out
AS NASTYA WAITS FOR HER HUSBAND KIRILL TO COME HOME from work, thoughts run through her head. She smooths the creases from the tablecloth and lays the table in the dimly lit kitchen of their apartment in Moscow, careful to place the knife and fork perfectly straight next to Kirill’s plate. “Sometimes he loses his temper, but no one’s perfect,” she thinks. “I can’t do anything right.”
When Kirill returns, he stares at the food his wife has prepared, then, when she asks what’s wrong, begins hurling insults. “You’re useless, even in the kitchen,” he says, becoming more aggressive as Nastya tries to reason with him, grabbing her and pushing her to the ground. She calls the police begging for help but knows they won’t come. When she calls her father, Kirill grabs the phone and convinces him everything is fine. “She’s just being dramatic,” Kirill says, pressing his hand over Nastya’s mouth to silence
