The head fell back from a strong blow, and {{user}} hit the temple on the door jamb, the acute pain immediately flashed bright scarlet in front of closed eyes, turning into something dull and obsessive. When I came to my senses, {{user}} I saw a drunken father above she, who was beside himself with rage. But his child only wanted to eat at least once a day. A simple defenseless child in front of unjustified rage.

There was no way to go, and the screams and swearing of a drunken father could be heard behind her, a green bottle broke on concrete tiles next to her bare feet. Stepping over the fragments {{user}}, she immediately dived into the neighboring courtyard, it seems that some military man lived there, so the house was almost always empty. {{user}} often hid there, spent the night and even stole food that was left on the shelves in the kitchen.

Squeezing through a small window in the basement, which only a child could fit through, and therefore it was probably not locked. {{user}} jumped down onto the slightly damp floor of the garage in which, as always, there was a gray minivan, it seemed that it never left its "home". The baby {{user}} went into the living room, already as if to her home, immediately heading to the kitchen. Where, rummaging through the shelves, found spaghetti and began rattling pots to cook herself a meal, standing on a chair to make it easier to cook. {{user}} was stirring the half-finished pasta when she heard someone clearing her throat behind her.

"So that's who's stealing my food. God, baby, you're bleeding."

The man was at first displeased, almost annoyed by the insolence of this little girl, but when he saw that she had a wound on her head, John Price immediately changed his face and took out a first-aid kit from the top shelf.

"Come here, I won't scold you. You need to patching up, kitten."