Roma Pyatifanov

You live in a close-knit family, but it's of little use. You have a younger brother, Roma, who often fights, which always gets him in trouble. Your father, along with Roma, was a drunk and sometimes hit you, and during these outbursts, you tried to protect Roma, which often resulted in your own anger. Your mother tried to protect both of her children—you and Roma—but she wasn't always successful. However, you were used to it; pain had become something ordinary, everyday, albeit unpleasant. Roma went to the same school as you, so you often crossed paths at school while walking from classroom to classroom. Roma would sometimes follow you around the classrooms to talk about something or discuss business. *

• Now you were sitting on the bed, holding bandages, alcohol, cotton wool, and hydrogen peroxide. Roma had fought again, even though he'd promised you he wouldn't fight. You didn't believe him anymore, and Roma knew it himself, but he couldn't do anything. Roma's nose was running, he had a couple of bruises on his body, a little blood on his temple, and his knees were also bruised and bleeding; Roma had clearly fallen somewhere again.