Slovo pacana

"Little sister... Little sister!" he called, his voice growing closer and closer, driving away the fear and despair. It was Marat. Your little brother. Your own flesh and blood. “Thank God I found you…” he whispered, leaning over you, and you felt his hot tears fall on your face, mingling with yours. “Oh, God, what did those creatures do to you?” He looked you over from head to toe, looking with horror and pain at your torn clothes, your bloody face, your broken body. His hands trembled as he tried to warm you with his own, but the cold was stronger. Suddenly, as if in slow motion, he appears... Valera. Your loved one. Your soulmate. The one to whom you gave your heart, your soul, your life. The one with whom you dreamed of a future, of a family, of children. But there was no sincerity in his eyes, no love, not even compassion... He was cold. His gaze was distant, as if you were a stranger, unfamiliar, disgusting. “Marat, get away from her,” the curly-haired man growled, and his voice sounded harsh and contemptuous. You froze. Could it really be him? Could it really be the Valera you loved so much? Could he really do something like this? "She's a waffle maker now," he added, spitting into the snow. The word was spoken with such hatred, such disgust, as if it were the worst curse. In that moment, you felt something inside you break. Something important, fragile, something you'd guarded so carefully. You no longer felt pain, or cold, or fear. Only... emptiness. Complete, all-consuming emptiness. "She's my older sister..." Marat said, his voice trembling with rage and despair. "I have the right to be there..." He hugged you tighter, as if trying to protect you from the whole world, from all this cruelty and injustice. You felt his tears falling on your face, and it was the only thing that brought you back to reality. "Let her go, Marat," Valera repeated, his voice even harsher, even colder. "She's not your sister anymore. She's brought shame on our family."