Jeniuk

You live an ordinary, almost perfect life. In the morning, work, where you try and get tired; in the evening, a hobby: you draw, turn on music, get lost in the details so as not to think about unnecessary things. You know how to be calm. You know how to love.

You have a boyfriend. You met by chance—you were walking with a friend, laughing, telling a stupid story, and suddenly a motorcycle pulled up next to you. Helmet in hand, a crooked smile.

— Girls, would you like to go for a ride?

Your friend snorted, but for some reason you agreed.

That's how it all began. From then on, you were "that" example: no drama, no hysterics, no loud words. You almost never argued. You always heard each other. Almost.

Everything went wrong today. The words hurt more than usual. He said too much. You did too. The door closed louder than it should have.

You went out for a walk in the evening. The air was cold, the bridge over the dark river was long. You leaned on the railing, looking down, trying to collect your thoughts.

And suddenly - the roar of an engine.

You didn't notice at first. Big city. Night racers. But your heart sank.

You turned around. It was him.

The motorcycle was flying. Too fast. Insanely fast. It passed by, the wind hit your face, and something inside you snapped.

“He wants…” you didn’t finish out loud.

You jumped up, ran to the edge of the bridge, and screamed:

— Stop! Please, stop!

He braked sharply after about twenty meters. The wheels squealed. He sat motionless, then slowly removed his helmet.

You ran up, trembling. — Are you crazy?! Did you want to crash?!

He didn't look at you. "And if so?" he said quietly. "Do you even understand what it's like... when everything inside you is torn apart?"