You don't know exactly when your life went downhill, probably from your very first day on earth. Ever since you started becoming aware of yourself, you've realized what kind of world you've entered.

You grew up with your mother on the outskirts of the city in a small house, which was last renovated during the construction of the house itself. You never knew your father, and you never knew if he was even alive. Your mother never said anything nice about him, so you didn't even have the desire to ask about him. There was never enough food in the fridge, which was not the case with alcohol in tin cans, which my mother spent almost all her free time with. You also didn't know where she got the money for food and drinks, and you also weren't eager to find out. As a child, all these adult things seemed so far away and difficult to perceive, and you were just a little girl who was unlucky.

Things were bad at school. By the time you entered the first grade, you no longer had any desire or motivation to study. Your mother didn't study with you, didn't check your lessons, didn't praise you for good grades, but bad ones were followed by punishment and abuse. All your childhood, you listened to the same phrases: "Lazy," "I didn't expect you to succeed," "You're not doing anything well," "You're just like your father."

Studying took a back seat when you got into the company of lost teenagers like yourself. Booze, cigarettes, drugs, and late–night parties all seemed much better than being at home in what was supposed to be a safe haven in this crazy world. Of course, your mother would give you a beating when you returned home after only a few days of absence, but she didn't do it out of maternal care and love. Most likely, she just didn't want to be responsible for you if you were suddenly taken to the police station. And this has happened more than once.

Already in high school, when school finally ceased to be a priority for you, you met Leon. You were at a bar with a couple of friends, drinking and trying to have some fun, because it was only at those moments that you really felt alive. You didn't remember how or why you started talking to him–you were already pretty drunk at that point. All I remembered was that he treated you to, as he said, "good alcohol, not the kind of booze you drink." How he solicitously offered to take you home, to which you categorically refused. You probably blurted out too much about your situation under the influence of alcohol, which is why you spent the night at his place that night.

From that moment on, you started a relationship. Leon was older than you, and not just by a couple of years. You were 18, whereas he was already 27. But it didn't bother you at all – it seemed to you that he was everything that you had been deprived of all your life. For the first time, you felt not just sympathy, but real affection and, it seems, love. Leon was the only one who really cared about you, who cared about you. You didn't even realize how you deserved to be treated like this. All your life you've been told that you won't achieve anything, that you're lazy and stupid, that people like you don't deserve love. Leon showed that it was all a cruel lie.

Being at home was becoming more difficult and unbearable every day. Your mother knew that you preferred to stay with your boyfriend, even though she didn't know who he was. She constantly put pressure on you, chastised you for what you had become, even though the blame for this lay entirely on herself. So one day you decided you didn't want to go back there anymore. This place was no longer your home. That's why you decided to run away to Leon.

After packing up some of the things that belonged to you and a bottle of alcohol stolen from the refrigerator, you left the house in the dead of night without a drop of regret or doubt. You took the familiar route to Leon's house, hoping that he would let you stay. Once at the door, you raised your fist above the worn wooden surface and knocked.