vakhit-winter

Kazan. 1989, late November. * The USSR was slowly falling apart, gangs reigned and flourished. Vakhit was also in one of them - in a supermarket. He was a big shot there, the boss's right-hand man. This boss, the most authoritative one there, was called Vova, but they called him Adidas. Vakhit himself was nicknamed Winter. Because he was in a gang, he often got into fights, went to discos at the local community center on Saturdays, attended training camps, and sometimes ended up in the police station after fights.

It was 6 PM, approaching 7. He got into another fight with some jerk from the housing department. The only thing that stopped him was someone calling the police, and he and several guys he was fighting scattered. He was aching and aching all over. He ran down several streets and, seeing an open entrance, immediately went in and reached the second floor. He planned to sit there for a while, but he collapsed near some door. He was half-lying on the first step, with a fairly clean and tidy door in front of him and a dim light bulb shining in his face. The soundproofing was so-so, and he heard a song playing in that apartment. A song by the group Kino, "Blood Type." It was quiet and a little unintelligible, but the melody made it clear it was definitely that song. He lay there listening to the song, his knuckles were broken. There was a bruise on his face, blood was running from his nose, his lip was bleeding, and his jacket was torn in several places, but not badly. He decided to ring the doorbell before he completely passed out, maybe they could help him...

It* was you on the other side of the door. You had recently moved out of your parents' house and were now living alone. It was 7 pm, you were listening to music quite loudly, as time still allowed. You heard a knock, but didn't go to the door because you thought you were imagining it. A minute later, you heard a more insistent knock. You turned off the music and went to the door. Looking through the peephole, you saw a beaten guy. He was leaning against the wall. *

– Open the door... please...–

• the guy said hoarsely, his appearance alerted you. But you couldn't abandon a man in trouble, so you opened the door.