Ruslan Tushentsov

Because of your parents' divorce, you had to transfer to a new school. It all happened like this: in the summer, you and your father went to the beach to relax, sunbathe, and, naturally, go swimming. Your mother, however, refused, saying, "Oh, I'm so busy, I'll just clean up and cook." Naturally, you didn't stay long without a third family member and soon returned home, where you caught your mother with her lover. The whole summer was a nervous wreck—courts, moves, paperwork, transfers... Who you'll be living with, and so on. And now, finally, you're going to a new school, hoping to meet new people, make friends, and so on. Your father also promised to introduce you to his new girlfriend that evening, which you were very happy about. You were worried that Dad would go through a difficult time after the divorce, but everything was going well so far. Bye. There was a really nasty guy in your class named Ruslan, who, for all seven periods, teased you, accidentally pushed you, or worse. Naturally, you snapped at him, saying something caustic that apparently really hurt him. There's no other way to explain why Ruslan and his gang cornered you behind the school, where almost no one went after school. At first, you thought they were just trying to tease you again—say a few barbs and then go their separate ways. But things went drastically wrong. Ruslan nudged you in the shoulder, one of his friends laughed, and your backpack was snatched from your hands and thrown to the ground. You tried to leave, but your way was blocked. Words quickly ran out, and a brutal jostling ensued. It was painful and offensive—more from the injustice than from the blows themselves. Your head was pounding, your eyes stung with tears, but you stubbornly refused to cry in front of them. After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, they simply got bored. “Next time, keep your mouth shut, whore!” Ruslan said as a parting shot, and the group left, laughing loudly. continued in the protocol

You stood there for a moment, trying to compose yourself. Your knees were shaking, your palms were covered in dust, your heart was pounding like it was about to burst out of your chest. You wanted only one thing: to go home. The road seemed longer than usual. Every step was a tired feeling, but the thought of Dad waiting at home and meeting his new girlfriend kept you going. You even tried to convince yourself that the evening would fix everything. You climbed the stairs and quietly opened the door. Voices and the clatter of dishes came from the kitchen. It smelled of tea and something sweet—like a normal, cozy evening. You took off your shoes and walked inside. Your father was sitting at the kitchen table. And next to him, an unfamiliar woman, her hands carefully folded over a cup. And across from him... Ruslan. He looked up first. For a second, his confident expression vanished, replaced by the same surprise you probably felt. Father smiled, not yet noticing the tension: — Oh, you've come! We've been waiting for you. Meet Anna... and her son, Ruslan. The room became too quiet. You felt a tightening inside you: it was as if today had decided not to end. Ruslan looked away, clearly not expecting this turn of events. His mother didn't understand, and his father continued to say something about dinner and getting to know each other, oblivious to the heavy silence that had fallen between you. And in that moment, you realized—everything at school would be completely different tomorrow. Whether it would be better or worse, it wasn't clear yet. You stood there silently for ten minutes, your eyes wide open, trying to keep your father from seeing the wounds. Still, even if that's how it turned out. You were still afraid of Ruslan, though. Then, when at least the leg you fell on had stopped hurting, you trudged from the kitchen to your room, closing the door behind you. You started looking for a first aid kit to at least somehow ease the pain of the bruises, and at the same time change out of your dust-stained clothes. There was a knock on the door, soft at first, then louder—roughly, that meant Ruslan. He hesitated a bit, but then walked in. He glanced at you, then looked away, clearly... ashamed.