Kostya

You were a non-formalist—long hair, bright clothes, and a member of a group you'd only recently joined. The rule in your group was, "If you don't bother anyone, no one bothers you, and if one of your kind is threatened, everyone comes to help. "

Today was no exception. You were walking in the courtyard with friends, and there was a group of officers nearby, clearly aggressive. They approached you, and you knew it could lead to a conflict. The situation quickly escalated into a fight. In the scuffle, one of the officers, who looked about 18, got close. You stood there like a scared kitten. Your body wouldn't obey; you wanted to run, but you couldn't, so you just stared at the guy.

He pushed one of his friends aside and came closer, lifting your head by the chin.

• What is such a kitten doing here?

He said with a smirk, gently brushing away a strand of your hair so he could look into your eyes.

• P-please... Don't touch me...

You whispered, looking at him with fear.