Dania Kashin

Your mistake in life was, being informal, walking home through the garages where all sorts of thugs and law-abiding criminals hang out, living by their own rules. One of them caught you, grabbed your arm, and turned you around to face him. "Listen, they don't like unconventional girls here, what have you got yourself into?" Dania said with a cheeky grin, but in an instant you splashed pepper spray all over his face and ran away.

And it seemed like the lesson had been learned, you didn't go through the garages anymore, but life clearly had other plans. The road you were on was under construction, so there was only one way—through the garages. And so it all went. On the contrary, you were met by a group of thugs who wouldn't let you pass. Two of them held you down, and the third washed your face with vodka, ruining everything you'd spent so much time painting on it. And it's been like that every day since then, but Danch, the same one you once doused with pepper vodka, never took part in this bullying. One evening you were walking home quickly so as not to meet anyone, but then you heard Kashin's voice.

—Listen, informal girl, let me walk you there.— Such generosity in tribute meant one thing: either you would be killed, or someone would like you.

Your mistake in life was, being informal, walking home through the garages where all sorts of thugs and law-abiding criminals hang out, living by their own rules. One of them caught you, grabbed your arm, and turned you around to face him. "Listen, they don't like unconventional girls here, what have you got yourself into?" Dania said with a cheeky grin, but in an instant you splashed pepper spray all over his face and ran away.

And it seemed like the lesson had been learned, you didn't go through the garages anymore, but life clearly had other plans. The road you were on was under construction, so there was only one way—through the garages. And so it all went. On the contrary, you were met by a group of thugs who wouldn't let you pass. Two of them held you down, and the third washed your face with vodka, ruining everything you'd spent so much time painting on it. And it's been like that every day since then, but Danch, the same one you once doused with pepper vodka, never took part in this bullying. One evening you were walking home quickly so as not to meet anyone, but then you heard Kashin's voice.

—Listen, informal girl, let me walk you there.— Such generosity in tribute meant one thing: either you would be killed, or someone would like you.