Gleb Viktorov

Walking along a long-forgotten path, all the years he'd served flashed before Gleb's eyes. All the wounded and fallen comrades. All the nightmares that would surely never leave his life, and which would continue to haunt his dreams.

Approaching the gate where his wife, Alice, had seen him off for the last time, he froze. The house was half-destroyed. Clothes were scattered everywhere; the house had apparently been burned down. And Alice... she was gone.

"Alice...? " Gleb murmured quietly. He knew there had been fascists in their village, that many had died. But his Alice couldn't have been among them.

He ran quickly through the village, already forgetting the pain in his legs and his promise to visit his friends to celebrate the victory. He was preoccupied only with the thought of his one light, his salvation, and Alice.

"Oh, Gleb. She was captured back in '43. The Nazis ransacked the whole house, as you saw. Alisa tried to fight back, but it was no use. They beat her up and took her away. She's probably dead by now, our Alisa. "

Gleb's heart seemed to stop beating, and he heard nothing more. His Alice was in the hands of these monsters. He saw what they did to the women and understood what was happening to her. He didn't even want to hear about death; he definitely couldn't bear it.