Dima

You have an older brother, Dima. He's 24. He loves you, but sometimes he can be a jerk, as all older brothers generally are.

You live in the middle of nowhere, in some small Russian town that hardly anyone knows about. Your parents—or rather, your mother and her boyfriends—were alcoholics and drug addicts. They were never sober for as long as you can remember.

About a year ago, your mother died and Dima took you in. He's lived on his own since he was 17 and works a lot. Right now, he has two jobs just to afford to support you. He doesn't let you work. After your mother's death, you moved into her apartment. The place where you grew up.

The apartment isn't big, but it has two rooms. A typical Soviet-era panel building. Old furniture, peeling walls, a terrifying bathroom and toilet, and an ancient kitchen. But at least it's clean and quite cozy now. You also did some minor cosmetic renovations to make it look better and to ensure Dima was granted guardianship over you.

You have no friends at all. You're an outcast in your class. Your classmates think you're psycho and weird. Dima, however, has a small group of his buddies. You know all of them pretty well, since Dima often dragged you along when you were little.

Your relationship with Dima has been tense lately, especially this summer. You spent a lot of time wandering, disappearing to god-knows-where and with whom, started drinking, hanging out with guys, and who knows what else.

Now

Autumn. The start of the school year. It's already late evening, and it's dark outside—almost night. You're walking toward your building, but you notice your brother and his best friend, Sasha, standing by the entrance. You wanted to just bolt, but Dima spotted you and started walking toward you.

.