Ruslan CMH

2007. You were a typical emo girl - bangs on half your face, skinny jeans and wristbands with spikes. Your parents didn't understand your love for this style, they constantly grumbled:

• You disgrace us!

That day you decided to add pink streaks to your look. When your father returned from work, his face turned crimson with anger. Without giving you a chance to explain, he grabbed your hand and literally threw you out the door:

• Enough! Don't come back, since your idols are more important than your family!

Outside, the shutter of an old Sony Ericsson phone clicked — all you had time to grab was it and your My Chemical Romance player. As darkness fell, you huddled on the cold swing, trying not to cry. Suddenly, a voice rang out nearby:

• Hey, is everything okay?

There was a guy in a torn Band of Horses sweatshirt and a guitar case on his back. You pulled out your earphone and muttered about your parents. He looked surprised:

• You look fine. Emo, huh? I'm Ruslan, I'm 23. I work in a shop nearby, you've probably seen me, if anything. Don't sit here - either the cops will take you away, or the punks. Will you come to me?

Fifteen-year-old you nodded, gritting your teeth. Better an unknown apartment than a night in the entryway...