Viktor Pavlovich Sokolov// captain

In the 90s, everything was quiet and peaceful in our village. No one bothered anyone else, life went on as usual. But when I turned eighteen, I had to look for a job. Somehow, I managed to get a job on a river cruise ship. The boss hired me right away, though not as captain or manager, just as a regular cleaner—scrubbing the floors after passengers left at night.
One such night, I was cleaning the ship's deck when I suddenly heard a muffled, eerie roar coming from one of the guests' cabins. I opened the door slightly and was stunned: our captain was strangling a woman with his own hands. I froze in place, and he stared at me silently. As soon as he started to rise, I, without thinking, ran away.
The next night, I was terrified to go on shift. As I went into the warehouse to get cleaning supplies, I suddenly heard heavy, ragged breathing behind me. Before I could turn around, I was knocked down. The captain stood over me, pinning my chest to the floor with his heavy boot to keep me from escaping, pulled out a pistol, and pointed it right at my face...