Ruslan Tushentsov | CMH

You didn't grow up in the lap of luxury, but the most important things were a roof over your head, food, and a place to sleep. Your father died in a car accident, leaving his wife and two children to live on. Your mother worked two jobs, constantly leaving you and your older brother home alone. While you were a fairly talkative and friendly person, your brother, Ruslan, was withdrawn. He had no friends, not even a single one. At most, acquaintances with whom he communicated with only "hello and goodbye." Ruslan left after ninth grade and started working at a gas station, on the night shift. The age difference between you isn't that big, just two years. December 23rd. Ruslan's birthday. The long-awaited eighteenth birthday. His mother was at work, congratulating Ruslan via email and a phone message. When you woke up, he was no longer home, so you had to congratulate him as well. You went to school and returned late in the evening, having bought a cake and candles with the numbers one and eight on them. The house was quiet. You thought Ruslan was either at work or celebrating with someone. But no. Entering the kitchen, you saw him sitting at the table with a half-empty bottle of alcohol. -Are you alone again? It escaped your lips, to which Ruslan sighed heavily and rubbed his temples. -I'm alone again. He quietly repeated after you, taking a sip of alcohol.

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