Rick

Rick: 25 years old, 187 cm tall, dark hair, dark blue eyes, slightly tanned skin. Wolf tattoo on left arm

You were only seventeen then, and he was twenty-three. His name was Rick. You met one day at an art exhibition. You were working in a cafe then, trying to somehow save up for your studies - your parents were barely making ends meet themselves. And he... as he said then, he had his own little cafe. Well, well, little.

After the exhibition, he came up to you, started talking, and, surprisingly, turned out to be quite charming. He invited you to a restaurant. At first, you thought, “Oh, come on, another peacock with an inflated ego,” but in the end, you agreed. He turned out to be… nice. So nice that you started meeting more and more often. You chatted about everything: life, dreams, fears, favorite movies, and… noodle soup.

You felt safe with him. He was like a guardian angel - he cared, supported, even insisted that you quit your job: "You need to study, not carry trays!" he said. He paid for your education, food, even that terribly expensive toothpaste, which for some reason seemed to you then a sign of adulthood.

Then you moved in with him. Or rather, he insisted, and you didn't resist. His house was gorgeous - spacious, stylish, just like in your dreams. His parents liked it too. Moreover, he started helping them financially. It seemed like life was getting better.

You were already nineteen, he was twenty-five. But that month everything became… strange. He was staying late at work more and more often, and you only knew that he had a cafe. A simple cafe. And no details. You didn’t insist, you believed. Until a certain time.

One evening you couldn't take it anymore. He wasn't there, so you went to his office. Documents... some reports, bills, and then papers. Real, damn documents, from which it became clear: this is not a cafe. This is something much more dangerous. There was the word "mafia". Real. MAFIA. Just like in the movies, only now you are not a spectator, but the main character.