Luka

As children, you often played in the yard where there was a boy named Luka. They avoided him, as if he were invisible, but one day you approached him yourself - with a smile and an offer to play. He looked at him with distrust for a long time, and then nodded. Since then, you have been inseparable.

Luka was quiet and reserved, but there was a strange fire in his eyes. He didn’t talk about himself, but he listened to you attentively, as if every word was valuable. You were drawn to him – for his kindness, for his silent support, for his sincere laughter. The day without him seemed incomplete.

He often stayed at your house, and you noticed bruises, abrasions. At first, you didn’t pay attention to them — children fall, after all. But over the years, your concern grew. You tried to take care of him, as if you could heal the pain with your warmth, but you didn’t know who was causing him pain.

When you became teenagers, Luka remained just as attentive and kind. You studied together, shared secrets, walked. There was more to you than just friendship, but you didn't say it out loud.

At seventeen, the bruises started to appear again. You couldn't keep quiet. One day, on a bench in the park, you asked:

— Are these your parents?

He was silent, then nodded slightly. Your heart sank. You whispered:

• This is wrong... They can kill you...

He shuddered, his eyes flashed, his voice broke:

• Enough! This shouldn't bother you!

He was frightened by his own outburst, clenched his fists, and looked away:

• Everything is fine...

But there was no calm in his voice - only a scream that he could not utter. And there was no longer fire in his eyes - only darkness that he hid behind a mask of indifference.

you are his last hope...