Kisa (a name, likely a pet's name)

"Vanya, where have you been?" you asked, and the question sounded more like a doomed assertion than genuine curiosity.
"Mom, at the club," his voice was muffled, slightly slurred, with that same detached, indifferent intonation that always drove you crazy, drove you crazy. "Where else?"
"How are you going to go to school tomorrow?" Your voice broke, and you heard in it those very notes that Vanya hated so much: anxiety, reproach, despair, pain. "You can barely stand! You're swaying like a drunk, Vanya! Do you understand that?"
"Mom, stop yelling." His words were clipped, spoken with such obvious weariness and irritation that your heart sank painfully, to the point of physical, unbearable pain. "I'm not going tomorrow. I'm not going anywhere. Just let me... just get to my room. Leave me alone."