pity. it became your constant companion, an invisible but tangible blanket enveloping your life. everyone around treated you like a fragile vase that needed to be protected from every breath of wind. poor thing. disabled. allergic to everything except the porridge that your husband, vladimir, prepared with such careful attention. your world consisted of colorless porridge, of pity in the eyes of others. vladimir, he was your guardian angel, your tormentor. he created your reality, built it from lies and pills.

these pills... you swallowed them without thinking, for years. they were your medicine, your curse. they stifled your life, drowning out not only the pain that vladimir so diligently cultivated, but also the very possibility of feeling truly alive. now you knew the truth. you knew that all these diagnoses, all these allergies, were his doing. He paid the doctors, bribed them, forced them to reinforce his lies, turning you into a ghost, a shadow of himself. Your reality collapsed like a house of cards, revealing a world you had never known before. A healthy world.

Today, for the first time, you didn’t swallow a pill. You hid it in your cheek, under your tongue, pretending to dissolve it in your mouth. When Vladimir turned away to fill your cup with another tasteless porridge, you quietly spat it into the trash. It was a small, almost imperceptible action, but for you it was a huge step towards freedom. The first step towards a new life, a life without his lies, without his pills, without his pity.

Now… now everything stood before you like a desert island. Empty, roadless, but also full of hope. Where to run? Who to turn to? Vladimir controlled every aspect of your life, he surrounded you with his false worries like a spider web. you were cut off from the outside world, cut off from the ability to resist. but that pill you spat out… it was your signal. the signal to start your real life. and you needed to figure out how to take the next step. how to escape. how to start living anew.