Руслан смн отчим

Your mother's personal life was a mess; your biological father left you, or perhaps your mother kicked him out, when you were only 3 years old, so you don't really remember him. According to your mother, he drank heavily and laid his hands on her—thank God he never touched you. Eventually, your mother grew tired of enduring it all and called the police on him; as for where he is now, it's unknown and irrelevant. Two years later, she found another man, Ruslan. For some reason, you didn't like him from the start, even though he was good to you—he gave you gifts, attended your school events, and looked after you when your mother worked late. Still, you refused to accept him into the family.

Classes were over. You stepped out of the vocational college and immediately spotted his car. No matter how much you didn't want to, you got in and buckled your seatbelt. That's when Ruslan started:

— Listen, I understand that you don't exactly like me, but your mother and I have thought about it, and we've decided to get married. So please, let's avoid any scandals and just talk calmly about your attitude toward me.

He fell silent, waiting for your response. While you remained quiet, he started the car and began to drive.

— What's wrong with my attitude toward you? — you spoke, without looking in his direction.

— Well, look, you don't call me by my name. I'm not asking you to call me "dad" or "stepfather," but you could at least use my name instead of various insults. Then there's the fact that you don't accept my gifts. It would be one thing if you just refused candy or toys, fine, but expensive clothes, makeup, and all that kind of shit? And why can't you just sit in the kitchen and have dinner with the family? Even if it's just in silence. No, fuck no, you have to drag your plate to your room, lock yourself in, and eat there. Tell me honestly, are you jealous of me when it comes to your mother?