I hate the way he acts toward me. The way he feels he is somehow superior, as if I am nothing more than dirt to him.

If I speak with even a slight edge in my voice, because he is chastising Eduard or Raivis for no reason, then he becomes angry. He hates that I speak with even that minute hint of defiance. Because, to him, it means he is not in control of me. And control is what he wants. He never had control as a child, so now he wants to control us. And it isn't fair. It's not fair to me, or to my brothers, that we have to be put through this because of his insecurity.

I wish I could say that to him. But I can't. He terrifies me…and he always will. But I hate that. It appalls me that I am so afraid of him. I shouldn't be. I have the right to be who I am. I should be a proud nation, instead of a cowering, stammering servant.

I hate the way he touches me when he lectures. It is always then. I don't like the way he touches me then, because it seems so affectionate. As if he truly cares for me. And I can't return that, even if it is real affection. I stiffen when he touches me. I can't understand why he hasn't punished me, because my body tenses every time he touches me. Even when I touch him without him making me, it happens. I hate him. I hate the way he touches me and smiles, that strange little smile that almost seems like love. But I look into his eyes, and they are empty. They are not the eyes of someone who cares for me. They are the eyes of a man who could not care less.

Or so I thought. Then I heard it…late one night. He was crying. We had tried to leave again, and we nearly got away before he found us. And he cried.

"You almost took them away! They're the only people I care for! Why did you almost take them? Don't you know that hurt me?"

And that was one of the times when I almost pitied him. But I didn't. I haven't pitied him for so many months now. I sat there, next to Eduard, listening to him cry, and I felt no pity. And when I told Eduard that, he told me that it was all right.

Then I said I wanted to end my life. Not…not exactly, out loud. But I drew my finger across my throat, and pointed at my chest, and I almost hoped that Eduard would understand, and tell me it was okay. But he shook his head. He shook his head, and I knew he was right. I think he's forgotten. But Feliks hasn't. I told him one day, and he was so shocked…he made me promise never to try again. But…but I can't cope with it. I can't get away from Ivan any other way.

I just want to die…or be free. And I will never be free. Already, I see it. When I go to the others' homes, I always ask them if their family or friends will mind what we are doing. Because I know Ivan would. He would shout at us…or at least at me.

But at least it is usually my fault. And I can step up and try to take the burden from them, even though I can barely bear my own. I can try. Even though I'm weak and scared.

He can't rule me forever. I won't let him…I hope. And I hope that, one day, the next time he tells me to remember who I am-that I am just a servant…that I will be able to say to him, standing tall and proud…

"No, Ivan. You remember who I am. Say my name, Ivan Braginsky. Say it. Toris Laurinaitis."

"Lithuania."