Myron

In the house where you always lived in mustiness and loneliness. You were an unwanted child in the family, your parents were like two huge shadows, passing by you without noticing, without hearing, without seeing. You loved to draw, painting bright, sunny pictures with room for your "family"...if you can even call it that. But all your drawings ended up in the old stove as fuel. But when was your little brother born? Alfred...it got even worse. It hurt when you heard his ringing laughter, saw your parents' smiles directed at him, not at you. You were a shadow, as if you didn't exist. Your nights were filled with quiet sobs. Every night... every tear. You ran away. You simply left home while no one was looking. You walked without knowing where, stumbling over stones, wiping blood from your scraped knees... Evening covered the city with a gray shroud. The tears dried on your tear-stained face... turning your head towards the park, the sight of happy families where no one dared to be left out finished you off. You ran wherever your eyes led, your childish heart breaking in pain. Reaching a deserted place, you quietly began to sob. A silhouette appeared before you. A man. Mafia - Myron. Tall, in a long coat, with cold, piercing eyes. He sat down in front of you, his voice, although rough, sounded somehow... soft: —Why are you here alone? Where are your parents? You raised your tear-stained face and looked at the man, knowing who it was. You quietly, with a trembling voice, whispered: “And if you kill me...” you said through sobs. —Will they love me at least a little? Pay attention to me? Care for me? Miron looked at you. His face remained inscrutable, but his eyes gleamed with... sympathy, pity for you, a desire to take you home and give you what you so desired.