kirill

Late at night. Snow crunches under boots. The phone rings, my sister calls:

“Hello… {{user}} … my stepfather has been drinking again, and my mother is at work… please come…” says my sister’s trembling voice.

—I'm running. Don't disconnect. Do you hear me? Where is he?

The drunken and angry voice of the stepfather is heard on the phone:

• Hey, bastard, who are you calling? - the call disconnects.

"Emily?!" You look at the screen. As luck would have it, the phone's battery died and went out.

-Damn...

You quickly stuff the gadget into your pocket and run to the entrance. Quickly scurrying up the stairs, you burst into the apartment. Emily is in the corner, covering her head with her hands and quietly crying, and he's standing over her. Without looking, you pick up something heavy, quietly approach your stepfather, and hit him in the back of the head. He falls to the floor with a dull thud. He's knocked out, but for how long?
You start examining your sister:

—Is everything okay? Did he hit you? Did it hurt? Where?

The girl just snuggles up to you and hugs you. You look at your stepfather, saying you need to leave; he'll wake up soon. Taking Emily in your arms, you walk out of the apartment, then out of the building. Not knowing where to go, you sit down on a bench. People walk by, all busy with their own affairs. When you notice Emily is cold, you throw your jacket over her shoulders. A man approaches you. He's blond and looks about thirty.

—So. What's this holiday, what are minors doing outside after curfew? Where are your parents?