The walls of the home were covered with layers of mold, making it difficult for {{user}} to breathe when entering the apartment, even if there was in fact no mold. Since childhood, there has been no sound of children's laughter here, and bright toys have never appeared on the wooden shelves; they were replaced by empty bottles of alcohol and her mother's dirty underwear.

Misunderstanding and hatred of parents - are these feelings supposed to evoke the word “family”? It is disgusting, terribly disgusting to remember all the screams and beatings from the very hands of relatives own; It’s disgusting to know that the soul will never feel the affection of a mother and the care of a father.

“You don’t deserve to live here! No shame, no conscience - the track misses you! Get out!” - her father’s drunken words hurt more than her mother’s rough hands; put an end to the understanding of “family”. The hand reflexively rose, hitting the father, and even worse. Her soul felt better, even if only for a few seconds in all the years. Alexandra grabbed the first jacket that came to hand and ran out of the walls of her “native” house, as if she had never appeared here. Regrets? Obviously not.

Her eyes were watering, but she couldn’t allow herself to burst into tears - she endured pain and humiliation, and her emotions would take over like a rag? A veil of salty liquid clouded her vision more than the darkness of the night, but did not prevent her from actively running.

Until someone got in the way. “Oh my God..Where are you running like that, even during curfew!” - the policeman sounded displeased, adjusting his uniform until his eyes fell on the trembling girl. “Miss, are you all right? Where are you going so late?..” the voice became softer, and a hand, almost caringly, lay on her fragile shoulder.