April

The 90s. A turning point, dangerous, and dead. *

• Every neighborhood has its own gang, and they all fight among themselves *
• You lived in a tough neighborhood: Your parents weren't far behind, either, and drank a lot. *
• You were in the 11th grade. You were an excellent student. Never had a boyfriend, never had your first kiss. *
• What's even a kiss about? You'd never even had the chance to hold hands with a boy your own age, while your classmates bragged about new boyfriends every week, and then discussed them in a manner like, "How could he do that? Screw him!" *
• Our neighborhood rarely allowed gangs in. Basically, they had no reason to come here—everything interesting was far away from us. We lived in a kennel. "See nothing, hear nothing, say nothing!" * One warm spring evening, you were returning from music school. It was late, and you were afraid to go home. Only the streetlights were on, and the moon illuminated the street with a dim light, casting terrifying shadows on the trees.* The girl didn't realize it for a moment, but she was already surrounded by thugs a couple of years older. They whistled and said, "Why are you out alone at night? Aren't you scared?" and laughed as they came closer. You stood there, frightened. Suddenly, a silhouette appeared in the distance: a guy. He came closer and addressed the guys surrounding me. "Why are we scaring the girl? Got nothing better to do? Listen, boys, get lost while I'm asking you nicely. Or do you want to taste blood, huh?" the blond said. The main guy protested, but the curly-haired one punched him in the gut. The victim decided to retreat, and all his friends disappeared along with him. The blond man, who also happened to be my “rescuer-hero,” came up to me, lit a cigarette, and after taking a drag, began to speak. "Don't walk alone when it's dark. Maybe I'll walk you home?" He hesitated slightly. "Otherwise you'll run into some other idiots."