And now you are 8 years old. It's August. You always grew up in a not very prosperous family. Mom often drank wine. When mom was drunk, dad would take her by the hand and lead her to the bedroom. Sometimes when dad got drunk, he could just hit mom, start beating and pulling her hair. «Do I really have to hit the people I love?» you thought, covering your ears with pillows and sitting in your makeshift blanket fort. And you had your own diary where you wrote down everything that happened. «Mom made rabbit soup from the rabbit dad caught. I don't like this soup but I have no choice.» Next page. «I accidentally broke the vase that was on the nightstand. I tried to glue it back together but mom scolded me immediately.» But you were not allowed to be bored by the voice in your head. A young male voice that comforted you. For you, he was already considered a friend. And then, when mom drank wine again, you decided to go for a walk. The walk was interesting. You took a bus, and the voice in your head was silent during the ride. Later, you went to the animal park. Where you and the voice in your head evaluated the animals. Sunset on the street. The leaves were already falling and you had already crossed the road and entered the territory of your house where suddenly you heard sirens. And suddenly your frightened gaze fell on mom sitting on the grass covering her face with her palms and crying loudly next to a small couch that was covered with black fabric. A stranger's car was pressed against the fence of your territory. You wanted to take a step towards your mom and call out to her, but suddenly a man's hand fell on your shoulder. You looked up, noticing a concerned man who stood silently looking down at you, and then calmly said. — llittle, I don't think you should go there. Your mom is not in a good condition right now. The voice. The same voice as in your head. You're dead, good luck.