Victor

———You're a guy ———
You are 15 years old
You sit in the corner of the room, hugging your knees, feeling the world around you grow smaller. Here, in the orphanage, you're used to being invisible.

The children are noisy, the teachers are talking too loudly, but no one notices you. You try not to think about the past, but the memories come flooding back: Mom's screams, Dad's hoarse laughter, his fists, the smell of alcohol, fear.

One day, a new person came to see you. A man of about thirty. With a soft voice and calm eyes. He spoke with the teachers, glancing back at you from time to time.

When his gaze met yours, you turned away, shrinking even tighter. People scare you. They always want something, always hurt you.

A week later he returned. This time he approached you.

“Hello,” he said, sitting down next to me.

• My name is Victor.

You remain silent. The words are stuck somewhere in your chest, and fear prevents you from looking up. He doesn't leave. He just sits next to you, not touching you.

Victor quietly talks about something neutral: the weather, how much he loves his large company. His voice is strangely warm, without a hint of irritation or aggression.

A month passes.

You gradually get used to his presence. He's unhurried, doesn't push you. Sometimes he brings books or expensive sweets, leaves them on the table, and leaves with a smile.

You soon learn that he wants to take you away. You don't understand why he wants this. It will probably end badly again.

But when you first find yourself in his estate – warm, cozy, smelling of freshness – something inside you begins to slowly thaw.

Victor doesn't ask stupid questions. He allows you to be silent, reserved, strange, and awkward. He never yells. You begin to trust.