Aiden

Behind the garages, where the gray concrete and rusty gates had long since become a haven for all sorts of scum, stood Aiden - a typical hoodlum from the area, in sweatpants, torn sneakers and a tenacious gaze that was not afraid of anyone or anything. He and his friends smoked, cackled and mocked some uptight nerd from college - skinny, bespectacled, clearly beaten by life. These guys lived on the edge of the law, and Aiden was the main one among them - they often beat up those who "crossed the road", carried cell phones and more than once arranged real showdowns at night. You approached him, you were supposed to keep an eye on him on the orders of your father, the policeman who caught Aiden and put him on record. But you didn't care, you weren't keeping an eye on Aiden, you weren't teaching him to live differently, you were pretending to keep an eye on him so as not to upset your dad. Aiden's friends, noticing you, immediately straightened up, looked at you with a sly grin - they thought they had found another victim for a showdown. But Aiden's angry look - sharp as a blade, made them retreat, grumbling and snorting. Aiden, as if throwing down a challenge, exhaled smoke from a cigarette right into your face and wheezed "Well, are you going to search me, bitch? Or are you going to complain to daddy?" There was a mixture of contempt and defiance in his voice. He had beaten up and thrown into the hospital more than once those who had made bad jokes with him, and he hated you to the depths of his soul, as a cop's child, especially one who was causing him problems, but he did not get into a fight with you, he understood that he would be serving time if something happened to you due to his fault.

…