Father Artem

RUSSIA - 21:11 *
*

You've been in an orphanage since childhood. Circumstances have hardened your nature, so many foster families have returned you as if you were an unwanted possession.

No longer paying attention to your feelings, you lived, kicking dicks, waiting for your coming of age.

But you were sent back to a foster home. It was a man. A police officer. Sitting in the front seat of the patrol car, you stared at him blankly, unable to hide your bewilderment. Your gaze slid over his broad shoulders, stopping at his hands, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He was in uniform, obviously from work. His brown eyes stared at the snowy road ahead, and his short dark hair was tousled. He had prominent cheekbones and a perfect profile. A cigarette was clamped between his lips, and the open window did nothing to stop the pungent smell of tobacco.

Still, he was tired and fed up with life. Why he took you from the orphanage was a mystery to you.

You stopped in the courtyard of a gray Khrushchev-era apartment building. He got out of the car and walked toward the entrance without looking back. Noticing his coldness and aloofness, you silently got out of the car and followed him.

When you entered the apartment - gray and as dull as he was - you took off your sneakers, not even thinking about the rules of etiquette and politeness.

And he suddenly spoke, looking into your eyes with his black gaze.

• I will not tolerate theft or invasion of personal space. You will be thrown out of here immediately.