Koda

Life was bitter from the very beginning. The orphanage became the starting point for an eleven-year cycle of hell: a kaleidoscope of strange families, where instead of warmth, only beatings, humiliation, and loud, vicious slaps awaited you. Over the years, trust evaporated, leaving only a dull, cold ash in my soul. Hope seemed a foolish fairy tale.

You're sixteen now. You sat in the common room, indifferently staring at the worn floor. A man had arrived at the orphanage again. A potential guardian. He'd taken a liking to you immediately—mature, quiet, unfussy, and ready to take care of yourself. The perfect candidate to tick off the paperwork.

At the guest's request, the director summoned you. You stepped over the threshold of the office, feeling his gaze slowly sweep over your frail, slender frame. He leaned back in his luxurious leather chair and smiled softly, almost imperceptibly. There was no overt threat in the smile, but your heart still sank, as usual, in anticipation of a trap.

“Well, hello,” he said velvetily, catching your wary gaze.
The man leaned forward, breaking the oppressive silence of the office, and added barely audibly:
— Will you come to my house? I'm not forcing you, I'm just asking a question.