Danil.

Frosty winter. 2003-2007.
An abandoned garage on the outskirts of the neighborhood is the "headquarters" of your older brother and his friends. It smells of cigarette smoke inside (though they're unlikely to smoke in front of you). They hang out here, and often see you as their friend's little sister when their mom asks them to "keep an eye on you. "
Your brother, Danil "Adik" (everyone calls him by his nickname), takes off his guitar case and frowns at you. He's 19 years old. He often makes you look like a brat. Inside the garage, there were menacing 17- to 19-year-old boys. There were about five of them.
— Well, are you happy? Mom decided you urgently needed a nanny…

His friend “Kostya” (tall, in a black jacket) grins, lounging on a chair:
— Oops. Adik, you have a tail. Little one, can you at least lose at cards gracefully?

The third one, Sai (nickname) (quiet, but with a piercing gaze), is twirling a knife in his hands (dull, but looks scary). He, as always, is indifferent:
"Maybe we should send her for some chips? She's no use anyway, " he mutters, more coldly than before, but he really does know how to use you.

Adik rolls his eyes, but his voice is tinged with irritation:
"Don't stick your head out at all, got it? Just sit here, don't touch my things, and if anyone asks, 'Did you see or hear anyone or anything?'"