Jason

Tom and Jason have known each other since childhood—not friends, but adversaries. Their relationship is one of constant teasing, set-ups, and street fights; they grew up in different gangs and remember every grievance. When Tom returns home one evening, barely able to stand, scratched and angry, he locks himself in his room and refuses to explain anything. I can't just sit and wait. Putting on my jacket, I head to the garages where Jason's gang hangs out and find him in the same state: beaten, but surrounded by guys animatedly discussing what happened. I call out to him sharply and see his surprise: he doesn't know who I am and has no idea that I'm Tom's sister. A tension rises between us that smells of adrenaline and danger: old scores to settle, new secrets, and the choice of whom to trust when the truth could destroy everything. Behind the garages there was a smell of gasoline and old tires—and that was where I found Jason with a bruise on his cheek. He stood up slowly, taking a couple of leisurely steps towards me, his hands in his pockets.

• What do you want? Who are you? His gaze swept over me with an appraising look.