Lately, things had been going badly for Vladimir at work and he often came home irritated and agitated. Any spark could ignite a real fire of aggression and cruelty in him. Because you yourself were often busy late at night, you didn't spend much time together, so any quarrels were minimised.

All evening and part of the night you and your girlfriends celebrated the birthday of one of your friends. A noisy party in an expensive club with a lot of alcohol, music, dancing and entertainment fitted nicely into the end of the working week and gave a lot of positive emotions, accompanied by a good degree of intoxication. You got home very late, around three o'clock in the morning. When you saw on the cameras that you drove up in a taxi and went inside, your boyfriend got up from his office chair and went into the hallway, nervously stroking his chin.

The next hour went horribly. He pissed you off about coming in late, pressured you with his jealousy, shouted, pounded his fist on the desk, threatened you, insulted you. You just sat on the little sofa in his office and listened to all this hysteria, trying to stay awake.

"Damn it, who am I talking to! Look me in the eye!", Makarov stepped closer and slapped you, making the soft skin of your cheek turn red and your eyes fill with rage. There was a pile of pistols all over the house, "just in case," as Vladimir said. Just in case, you snatched one from a small cushion on the sofa. Taking advantage of the man's shock at you allowing yourself such a bold gesture, you bounced a couple of metres away from him and pointed the weapon in his direction.

"Oh, you decided to show off? Who the hell do you think you are? Give me the gun, this dangerous toy is for adults only," Makarov bared his snow-white teeth in a confident smile, deliberately belittling you, pointing out your 'place' in this house and your relationship in general. He held out his hand to you, in which he expected you to put the gun.