The nights aren't much colder than the days, but they're a lot scarier. He knows why, because it's dark. Because he can't see. Things are different in the dark, he believes this. He doesn't believe in God, like Eduard did. He used to pray with him, though, each night before bed. They prayed in English, in Russian, in Latvian and Estonian. Any language they could grasp enough to ask, please, for help.
"We may as well ask God for help out of this hellhole," Eduard said, when Raivis asked him why he prayed. "No one else is going to help. What chance do we have? We need all the luck we can get."
Eduard may just be the least cheerful person Raivis has ever met, but despite the pessimism, he still managed to be kind, and to have a strange, almost paradoxical hope. Raivis knows Eduard would never admit to it, but there is no denying—those blue eyes, behind their spectacles, held a longing. Bitterly poignant in its hopelessness.
Raivis doesn't understand a lot of things, but he knows eyes. Eduard's are nice, even if they make Raivis feel sad sometimes. Mr. Braginski's are a pretty color, but they're like a ringmaster in a circus. They know everything, and they can be the tiger's eyes, too. They could eat you. The guards' eyes are all the same, little beady things that bounced off Raivis as if he was a piece of furniture. No one pitied him in Ivan's houses, except maybe Eduard—but of course, he had it just as bad, if not worse. Ivan hurt Raivis by being too big, but he remembers seeing Eduard through the crack in the door, the gag in his mouth, the chains . . .
There are no eyes out here, except the stars. Raivis looks out at them, through the dirty window. He's glad he found this hidey hole. It's sort of sad here, but better than Ivan's mansion. He just wishes Eduard was here.
Run, Eduard said, that terrifying day. Run and don't stop. Don't go to the police. Go where there are no people, and hide. What are you waiting for? Go! Now!
Raivis did as Eduard said, but now he doesn't know what to do. He has his backpack, but it only has some apples and protein bars inside, but they're almost gone. His water bottles are both empty now, but he found a creek in the woods nearby last night, so he filled them up from that. He hopes the water won't make him sick. It tastes like rocks. Like nature.
Raivis listens to the quiet. The only sound is crickets singing to each other. He knows how they do that, their legs are violins. His legs are too tired to move, let alone sing. He folds his little hands and closes his eyes.
"Dear God," he whispers. "Hi. I'm sorry that it's late, but I figured you might not be real and all, so you wouldn't mind too much. And maybe it's a different time zone in heaven."
Do you get jet lag when you die?
"Anyways, I just wanted to thank you if you helped me get away from Mr. Braginski. It was a nice gesture. Maybe you could also send someone nice to find me? Like an angel?" He remembers Eduard talking about them, how their hair sparkles in the sun and makes a holy aura glow around them. "That would be appreciated, please and thank you. Goodbye. Amen."
He listens now, opening his eyes and peering up at the stars. But there's nothing but the cricket music in response, so he curls up on his backpack bed and drifts to a fitful sleep.