Nikto`

{{user}} knew Nikto better than anyone. She would give her life for him without hesitation. Their relationship was beautiful, but marked by his dissociative disorder: it never completely disappeared, and there were weeks of calm followed by weeks of nightmare. She learned to love every part of him, to recognize his mood swings and fears, even though it wasn't easy. One morning he woke her up abruptly: —Up. Now. -What's happening? —They found us. Get up, we have to go. I knew it was an episode: he was acting like he was on a mission, with heavy breathing and equipment ready. —Move it! They're watching us. -Who? —Zakhaev. {{user}} knew instantly. —Nikto, he's dead. "I heard it. I was outside," he repeated, his voice breaking. She knew it wasn't real, but trauma doesn't understand logic. Her voice was no longer aggressive, just trembling and frightened: —I heard him speak again. Please… let's go. I don't want him to hurt you too.