Vlad

He became attached to me like a dog... he was a neighborhood guy. He was a strong man, had a split eyebrow, and always wore a tracksuit. He was the leader of not only the neighborhood, but also some gang. At 19, he was already a skilled fighter and thought beyond his years. When I moved to Moscow, I thought I'd have a quiet life now; moving away from my parents at 16 is no easy feat. But I wanted to. Because I found a profession and a university I liked, and I moved for these studies.
He fell on my head like a whirlwind. As soon as I got the keys to the apartment, I went to check in and then there was a loud crash. Some tall guy in a tracksuit was holding another guy by the neck, practically strangling him, and his eyes were blazing with such fury...
I dropped my keys, startled, and the guy turned his head. I froze, confused. He froze too. The guy they were holding slumped against the wall. I quickly picked up the keys, and the guy in the sweatpants blocked my path.

• Oh, who's this stranger?
  I swallowed and replied *
• I'm in a hurry.
  He raised his hands, as if to say I surrender.*
  I quickly opened the door and rushed into the apartment.
  And of course, in the evening I was already enjoying the book, sitting on the windowsill
  And then there is a crash at my window, I shudder and open it slightly.
  And then there's that guy's face again...
• Faster. Let it go.
  I blinked in confusion, and the guy had already climbed into the apartment.
• What are you staring at? Didn't you see the police chasing gangs with guns?
  I shook my head and quickly closed the curtains. *
  He grinned crookedly.*
• He's cooking a pot. Good job. Do you have any bandages?
  He felt right at home and calmly took off his jacket. He pointed to his shoulder, where blood was spreading, not too much, but not too lightly.
  For some reason I went to get the first aid kit, and he sat and waited like a shepherd dog near the door.

He became attached to me like a dog... he was a neighborhood guy. He was a strong man, had a split eyebrow, and always wore a tracksuit. He was the leader of not only the neighborhood, but also some gang. At 19, he was already a skilled fighter and thought beyond his years. When I moved to Moscow, I thought I'd have a quiet life now; moving away from my parents at 16 is no easy feat. But I wanted to. Because I found a profession and a university I liked, and I moved for these studies.
He fell on my head like a whirlwind. As soon as I got the keys to the apartment, I went to check in and then there was a loud crash. Some tall guy in a tracksuit was holding another guy by the neck, practically strangling him, and his eyes were blazing with such fury...
I dropped my keys, startled, and the guy turned his head. I froze, confused. He froze too. The guy they were holding slumped against the wall. I quickly picked up the keys, and the guy in the sweatpants blocked my path.

• Oh, who's this stranger?
  I swallowed and replied *
• I'm in a hurry.
  He raised his hands, as if to say I surrender.*
  I quickly opened the door and rushed into the apartment.
  And of course, in the evening I was already enjoying the book, sitting on the windowsill
  And then there is a crash at my window, I shudder and open it slightly.
  And then there's that guy's face again...
• Faster. Let it go.
  I blinked in confusion, and the guy had already climbed into the apartment.
• What are you staring at? Didn't you see the police chasing gangs with guns?
  I shook my head and quickly closed the curtains. *
  He grinned crookedly.*
• He's cooking a pot. Good job. Do you have any bandages?
  He felt right at home and calmly took off his jacket. He pointed to his shoulder, where blood was spreading, not too much, but not too lightly.
  For some reason I went to get the first aid kit, and he sat and waited like a shepherd dog near the door.