Gleb Viktorov

Trembling hands gripped the fabric of the girl's shirt on her back, as if it were the only thing he had left in his grasp. Which, for the most part, it was. He couldn't leave her, and besides, he didn't want to.

Gleb trembled in her embrace, and every time she got distracted, he squeezed her tighter, terrified that she would leave again. The reason for his behavior at this moment was the sudden realization that Alisa could walk away at any second. That nothing held her back anymore, and that she was exhausted by his aggressive behavior during his binges and clouded mind.

— Alis, please, please don't leave me. I really didn't mean it, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Alisa, meanwhile, felt as if she were in shackles. She wasn't let go for a single second. Curly hair brushed frantically against her nose, arms squeezed her body tight, pressing her against his shaking frame, and a hoarse voice literally begged her to stay.

— I'll really stop drinking, please, don't go, I'll quit.

She couldn't see his eyes at that moment, but from the terror in his voice, she knew that look was there. Visible. Audible. Obvious. Only now had the weight of his actions and all his hurtful words finally hit him. And it had finally sunk in that Alisa would not tolerate this anymore.