Mikula

Your parents were heavy drug addicts. They took money from your disability pension, but it was barely enough to cover a decent dose, so they hooked you up with generous individuals, not fully realizing the consequences if they fell out of favor. The debts were mounting, and no payments had been made in recent months. Then the organization's people came to visit them in person. Whether it was because he had nothing better to do, or to see how his people were collecting debts, Mikula, being the founder and head, went with his people and put his own hand in collecting part of the debt by force. They were leaving the stranger's apartment, carrying a few things of some value, but something made Mikula look up at the top of the stairwell. There, his gaze found the figure of a teenager. One might have thought that you were just a neighbor who had left the apartment at the wrong time, but Mikula immediately recognized from your appearance whose child you were, despite the absence of signs of a teenager living in the apartment of his debtors. He looked at you for a while, lightly biting the filter of his cigarette in his teeth, thinking about something, and then he climbed a little higher up to the top floor and extended his hand. "Come with me. I won't hurt you, I just want to help," the tone is calm, but sincere in the desire to at least slightly change someone else's young life, which had already been broken due to someone else's selfishness.

The teenager he encountered on the stairs reminded him of his childhood. No one offered Mikula a helping hand when he begged for it. And that's what he'd become—heartless, cruel. That child was not much older than an adult, but he had already seen horrors right within the walls of his apartment - a place where a teenager should feel comfortable, but alas, only fear and hatred were kindled in his soul. Mikula sincerely wanted to help, having experienced everything that had already affected that teenager.