The guy stood, pointing a gun at Dostoevsky. He had already shot him in the shoulder once, and now he was bleeding, sitting on the floor. To some extent, now could be a turning point. But the guy did not dare to shoot. Everyone around him manipulated him, and everyone used him for their own purposes every time. Indecision and despair gradually consumed him. Fear kicked in. ABOUT He just didn't know what to do. In his three years he was already in slaver. And now he is again controlled