Damp and cold
made their way under the clothes - the teenager put his hands in his pockets
and, throwing the hood of his jacket over his wet hair, walked along the wet
sidewalk.
Why is he
haunted by this feeling that this is not his life, not his time, not his place,
not his city? Why? Maybe it all started from the moment when he realized that
everyone around him was distant from him? When he didn't become like all of
them. Kai glanced at the people running past.
He's different.
And if you are different, then you are an outcast. People don't need you. You
are internally rejected by everyone you know and love! But why? Why do people
close to you stop loving you just because you do not want to be the way they
want you to be?
His family:
dad, mom, his two elder brothers, and a sister. Why did the people closest to
him, the dearest to him in the world, move away from him? What did he do wrong?
He simply began to live, speak, and think as he saw fit. And they wanted him to
match the image they had created. They came up with a life for him to live.
Gradually, they
began to realize that the image they had created did not correspond to reality.
At first, it was not very noticeable and they even pretended that nothing was
happening, that it just seemed to them. But then they couldn't help but notice
that everything was wrong. He was not what they wanted him to be. And nothing
could change him, neither talking about what he should become, nor trying to
force him to submit to their will!
When you are
little, you depend on your family you cannot fight back and therefore you
endure everything they do to you.
He was
constantly put under "house arrest", but this arrest took place in
the library, and it was happiness for him, and not a punishment, as they
wanted. He opened the book and was transported to other worlds that opened to
him from the pages. He found freedom in books. He traveled for hours in other
worlds, acquired knowledge and experience given in books, and learned the surrounding
space.
They hired
teachers so that he had no time to think about rebelling against them. But he
loved to learn and gladly drew knowledge from those who gave him this
knowledge.
They never let
him go to school, believing that the world behind the wall would ruin him.
But he had
long ago penetrated that other world. They did not notice it, they missed it.
They thought that a little boy riding his bike through the fields around their
house, surrounded by a huge fence, would not be able to know that there was another
life. But he found out.
Prokhor! They
met then at the pond: little Kai with a mute question in his eyes turned to the
sky and such an overly serious teenager who saw the boy's eyes and felt his
loneliness. He was lonely too. But from that day on, they divided their
loneliness into two.
They did not
talk about the pain that was already in their souls. Rich, from a good family,
Kai, but with such huge and sad green eyes, and Prokhor, a teenager from an
ordinary family, where there was no father, only an eternally working mother,
whom he always saw tired.
Prokhor also
asked himself a question:
"Why? Why
does his mother hate him so much? Why then did she give birth to him, if his
whole existence was now so hateful to her? What for? Why tell him that she
works three jobs to feed him and put him on his feet. After all, if you love
someone, you do it for him. And if you don't love? Then you do it anyway and you
hate that person even more."
After all, it
was he who was to blame for such her life. It was his fault that his father
left when he had been still little. He just left to live with another family.
But Prokhor felt that it was because of him, and she knew it, and hatred for
him had already arisen in her soul. And now his mother had a broken life - this
was how she had spoken of herself to everyone who felt sorry for her. But what
was he to blame? It turned out in everything. It was he who broke her life with
his birth.
"How
strange," thought Prokhor, "a new life is being born, but it turns
out that everyone has already hated it. You live with a person who is dearest
to you, the closest on the whole earth, but gradually you begin to feel that
this one hates you. Your whole existence is unbearable to this person! "
The small
apartment in which he lived with his mother did not make it possible to exclude
communication, and therefore Prokhor more and more often began to disappear on
the street. This angered her even more. Now he was gradually turning into a
difficult teenager who got involved with a bad company, and that finally ruined
her life. It was a vicious circle. There was no way out of it. It was only
necessary to accept the reality of what had happened. And Prokhor accepted. He
loved his mother, the one he created in his dreams, sweet, caring, loving him.
He loved her with all his heart. And in real life, he calmly listened to the
next reproaches and painful words addressed to him and left where he was not
alone.
Then by the
pond, seeing a boy with eyes full of pain, he read in them a question that had
tormented his soul too:
"Why don't
they just love me, just because I exist?"
Prokhor did not
talk to him about this. He could not answer this question. But from that day
on, two souls found each other and the pain shared with the other was no longer
so strong. They stopped looking for an answer to their question. They just
began to live and enjoy life!
Prokhor
opened another world for Kai. The world outside the wall of his house. It
turned out to be cruel and adult. And in order to survive in it, he had to grow
up quickly and fight for a place in this world.
This did not
frighten him. Prokhor's company, to which the boy brought him, was one of the
same teenagers who were also simply not loved just because they were born and
lived. And it hardened their hearts.
Kai was under
the protection of Prokhor. He was much younger than them, although in
conversation and prudence they thought he was older. At first, they hated him
for having everything in this life, and then they accepted him, realizing that
he did not need all this. That, having everything in life, the most important
thing was taken from him - this was his freedom. For them, freedom was the most
important thing, and therefore they accepted Kai, and no one else dared to
throw an insulting word against him.
***
Once, returning
to the place of their "deployment", an abandoned basement, where
their small teenage gang equipped themselves a temporary shelter, a group of
guys, much older than them, from another gang came out to meet them.
Prokhor hid Kai
behind himself, telling him to flee from here when the fight started. The
forces were unequal. Prokhor's gang numbered ten people - another one was twice
as many. And they were well prepared. In their hands, there were sticks, metal
rods, bottles, and knives.
A fight broke
out.
It was then
that Kai first used his martial art in a real fight. Then, for the first time,
he felt the warm blood of his enemy on his hands. He managed to snatch the
stick out of the hands of the attacker, and he fought with it, using all kinds
of martial arts techniques that his teachers had taught him.
Prokhor and his
guys froze in amazement when, with another precise movement, he knocked the
bottle out of the opponent's hands and knocked him out with a stick to the
solar plexus. But he was still too young, and therefore he also got bit a lot.
He tasted his
blood in his mouth. This taste - the taste of metal - how often he would feel
it later in his life.
The fight
ended, or rather, the attackers did not expect such fierce resistance and
therefore began to retreat, picking up their guys and dissolving into the
darkness of the alleys.
Having kicked
the last two teenagers lying on the asphalt, Prokhor gave the command to leave.
Kai held on
with the last bit of strength. The whole body ached from the blows received,
the right hand became numb from such an overload. He spat blood from his broken
lips and wiped the dripping one from his nose with his sleeve. Prokhor walked
beside him, casting attentive glances over his shoulder at him.
Already going
down to the basement, he staggered and felt that the floor was leaving from
under his feet. Prokhor grabbed him, carried him in his arms to an old iron bed
in the corner, covered with a torn bedspread. One of the guys brought a roll of
toilet paper and, tearing off a larger piece, gave it to his hand to put it on
his nose, which was bleeding. Prokhor brought a towel soaked in water and wiped
his face. The guys picked ice from the freezer and, putting it in a bag, gave
it to Prokhor, who put ice on his nose.
Kai felt that
everyone was looking at him strangely, he understood that his behavior in a
fight, his mastery of fighting technique made such an impression on them. From
that moment on, their attitude towards him changed radically. Now they treated
him with a kind of awe. On the one hand, in their attitude, there was an almost
parental concern, because he was younger than them, and on the other hand,
respect as he was a cooler kid than they.
"Does it hurt?"
Prokhor asked carefully, bending over him.
"It's
okay," he smiled, although it was given to him with difficulty.
"You fight
in such a way! This is the first time I've seen this! Like in the movies!"
Prokhor spoke, not hiding his admiration, "Where did you learn this?"
"Father's
friend is Japanese, he lives in our house. I have been training since
childhood," then he became sad, "and my father also hires such
teachers especially for me. You remember I've told you that I have to become a
military man. That is why they teach me this."
Prokhor remembered
their conversation, when Kai briefly had told what his family expected from
him, and that he did not want this, and for this, he was rejected. Then Prokhor
did not ask him about the details, feeling that this was a very painful topic
for him and it was difficult for him to talk about it. Prokhor understood why
he had such sad eyes and why he was with them, and not with his family. And
now, having once again heard this from him, and most importantly, seeing him in
a fight, Prokhor realized how serious it was in his life.
"I haven't
asked you, but I want to understand," Prokhor looked into the eyes of his
friend, "it is important for me to understand this for myself, because you
are here, among us, and you are my friend, so I want to understand you. You've
said that your family wants you to become a military man, and as I can see,
their intentions are serious. Tell me why don't you want it?"
"I don't
want to kill!" he answered very clearly.
Now Prokhor saw
in the eyes of this boy an adult life position, which could not be changed by
anything or anyone.
"But they
will not leave you alone?"
"Yes, I
know. I will grow up and then I will be able to decide for myself how to live
and what to do!"
"You have
made a decision, I will be with you, we will think of something. When you grow
up, you will join my gang. Do you want to be with me?"
"Yes. I
have no one else but you."
Kai's eyes
glowed with sincerity.
Prokhor put his
hand on Kai's one and shook it.
"You are
not alone. We will always be together now."
Then he fell
asleep, the load and nervous stress from the first real fight in his life made
itself felt. Prokhor, covering him with his jacket and making sure that he was
sleeping soundly asleep, went to the guys who were preparing a festive dinner in
their makeshift kitchen.
The so-called
kitchen was located here, in another branch of the basement. There was an old
gas stove with a gas cylinder, a shabby washstand hung on the wall. Here the
guys brought the furniture they found in the trash heap, but the main value was
a huge long table at which almost everyone was placed. Benches, chairs, and
stools were around the table. Everything that was found in a more or less good
condition was brought here to their "home". In the center of the
table, there was an old armchair, this was Prokhor's seat. Nobody even thought
of sitting there. Prokhor, although he did not possess the eastern fighting
technique, but hit hard and concretely. And he was feared and respected. He was
their leader, who managed to unite them and lead them.
To the right of
Prokhor's chair, there was a chair that no one was occupying either - this was
Kai's place. Even the first time when Prokhor brought him to their gang. He put
this chair next to him and asked if anyone had any questions on his wish to see
Kai next to him. No one had any questions.
Prokhor
guarded his little friend, although he never made him exceptions or indulgences
in anything. He felt responsible for him, as for a younger brother, so he
always kept him by his side if they went to fight or to rob. Among the
members of his gang, he quickly figured out those who were dissatisfied with
such a decision and explained to them once and for all that his decision had to
be respected.
Now in this
kitchen, his guys were preparing dinner. After all, they had won! Nobody even
expected this. Seeing these adult boys in front of them, and even prepared for
battle, they realized that they would fight to the last, but they had no
chance. And here was Kai. Who would have thought! Now, opening the stew, stirring
buckwheat, and slicing bread, they heatedly discussed how he behaved in a
fight. Some even tried to imitate his fighting moves, but this only made the
others laugh.
Prokhor was
pleased with the realization of what his friend turned out to be. But even if
Kai today, as Prokhor told him, ran away when the battle began, it would not
matter for Prokhor. Their friendship would not have broken up. It was strange,
but Prokhor understood that Kai would never run away. Why did he understand
this? There was something in him that attracted Prokhor - this inner strength.
It was an incredible inner strength of mind. Therefore, Prokhor was with him.
He never made mistakes in people, even if he was still a little boy, but with
huge sad eyes.
They took out
vodka from the refrigerator. They have long behaved like adults, although they
were still children. Prokhor drank with everyone. They put hot food.
While eating
such delicious buckwheat porridge with stewed meat, Prokhor thought about Kai's
words: "I don't want to kill." But he had crossed this line long ago,
and he did not care. Although no, then when he realized that the man who had
been struggling in his arms had quieted down - he became afraid. It was very
scary. It was a couple of years ago. Then he just began to gather around him
those who were rejected by this world. They decided to rob the warehouse.
According to their calculations, there should have been no one there. But a
drunken man was sleeping inside. It was either a watchman or a bum who got
inside. It didn't matter. He saw them and began to shout. Rather, he just
screamed when Prokhor's knife entered his stomach. Prokhor struck several
times. The body went limp, short death cramps - and everything was over.
Prokhor felt warm blood on his hands. He dried his hands. He looked at the pale
faces of the guys standing around him. From that moment on, he became their
true leader. It was like a rite of passage - a sacrifice. Now no one dared even
think badly of him or contradict him. Those who saw it with their own eyes told
the boys who were newly arriving at them about Prokhor, who even without
flinching had ripped open the man's stomach.
"I wonder
how Kai will react to this when he finds out that I've killed a man?"
But that was
not the point. He would kill if the situation called for it. It didn't bother
him. This was life. And he accepted it for what it was. He needed to tell Kai
about it somehow. After all, he was his friend, and there should be no secrets
between them.
***
In today's
fight, Kai suffered the most. The rest escaped with bruises and minor injuries.
And not surprising - after all, he was in the thick of the battle.
An hour later
he left the bedroom.
His body was
recovering quickly. And now this hour of sleep restored his strength. Although
everything hurt, he felt good overall.
Everyone was
delighted with him. They began to shake hands and pat on the shoulder. They
immediately pounced on with questions and requests to teach them how to fight
in the same way.
Prokhor banged
on the table, everyone was quiet. He motioned for him to sit next to, in his
place. Everyone parted in front of him, letting him pass to the chair. One of
the guys quickly ran away and brought him food.
"How are
you?" Prokhor looked at him carefully, trying to make sure of his health.
"It's
okay."
"Exactly?
You got the most."
"I am not
only taught the art of combat. There are also techniques for protection and
recovery. It is important to know and be able to apply. Therefore, everything
is really normal."
"Well,
you're cool! You've passed the rite of passage into our gang - you've shown
yourself in the real case. Now you will always be with me - you will be my
deputy."
Prokhor held
out his hand to him. They shook hands. This was the recognition of Kai by
Prokhor in front of everyone. Now Prokhor had officially put him in second
place after himself in their gang. And everyone understood this.
After that, the
guys could not resist and inundated him with questions about how he fought like
that. He ate and answered. Prokhor, being already full and lounging in his
"royal" chair, looked at all this.
"What time
do you need to get home today?" Prokhor's eyes sparkled slyly.
"Today I
can do it late. My parents left for the reception at the Kremlin, they will
return very late, and those who are in the house will not betray what time I
have arrived."
"It's good
that there is time," Prokhor sly smiled, "guys, bring a clean glass
and pour vodka."
Prokhor put a
glass of vodka in front of Kai.
"It's time
for you to become an adult. And then you fight better than us, and you haven't
even tried vodka. Is it so?" Prokhor looked into the eyes of his friend.
"No. Have
not tried it."
"Then
drink."
Kai looked at
Prokhor. He trusted him. This was his friend. If Prokhor said, then he must
drink vodka.
He drank. His
breath caught. But then a strange warmth poured over his body. The pain from
the blows gradually melted into this warmth. He no longer felt pain, he felt
good, it was good and easy. And the soul was easy. Everything that had
tormented and tortured him from the inside went away and remained somewhere far
away.
Prokhor watched
him, saw, and understood what the boy was feeling. He bent down to Kai and, so
that no one could hear, asked:
"Doesn't
it hurt now?" he understood that everything hurt him after today's fight.
He admired how courageously his friend endured pain and did not complain. This
glass of vodka was now the only thing that Prokhor could do for him to numb the
pain, even if for a few hours.
"No,"
Kai replied in surprise, "I'm fine now."
The guys
shouted at him to have another drink. But Prokhor covered the glass with his
hand and said that it was enough for the first time.
He spent that
evening in a state of strange euphoria. Late at night, when the alcohol had
practically disappeared, Prokhor took several guys with him and went to see him
off.
Since that
time, Prokhor no longer allowed Kai to drink vodka. Only on New Year's, which
they celebrated later than the holiday itself, Prokhor poured and allowed him
to drink a glass of champagne. After this glass, everyone "lost" him.
He woke up in the morning, when, finally, Prokhor managed to wake him up to
send him home.
So he grew up.
Then there were many more fights and not entirely correct affairs, to which he
went with Prokhor. Although Prokhor did not take him for serious cases. He
didn't want to involve the boy, and he was worried about Kai.
***
Being a
teenager, he came into their flat. That basement had long been abandoned by
them. And that house was also demolished. Now their gang was based in the flat.
It was a huge communal apartment in the center of old
When he was
here, Kai was always amazed at new faces and strange personalities that one
could encounter in the hallway of this apartment and then never see them again.
Who were they, where were they from and why were they here? Probably no one
would have answered this question to him.
Their rooms
were comfortable. There was also a table in the center, but now it was more
decent than the one in the basement. There were also chairs around the table.
The invariable royal chair of Prokhor was in the center and a little simpler -
Kai's one - to the right of Prokhor.
During this
time Prokhor turned into a stocky, broad-shouldered youth with straight,
short-cropped brown hair, regular features with the first signs of a mustache
and beard, which he began to shave off, and penetrating tiger eyes. Yes, if not
for these predator's eyes, he could be called a very nice young man. But this
strange look with yellow sparks frightened those looking at him and made his
face cruel. There were tightly compressed lips, on which a smile rarely showed,
and the unyielding character of the undisputed leader. They were afraid of him.
They respected, but more were afraid.
During this
brief period of his adolescence-to-youth transition, he had two more occasions
when he had killed. And this left an imprint on him: although he was young, his
soul had long ago become stale, and this was imprinted on his appearance.
One evening,
still in their basement, Prokhor called Kai into his so-called office, into a
recess in the wall, closed by a curtain, where there was a small table, a
couple of chairs, and an armchair for Prokhor. Here he usually planned secret
operations, not for everyone, and dealt with each member of his gang separately,
if the situation required.
Kai sat across
from him at the table and waited for what he would say.
"You know,
I've killed a man," Prokhor said simply, peering into his face, looking
for condemnation or self-loathing in him after what he had said.
Kai was silent
for a long time. Then he got up, walked over to Prokhor, who was sitting in an
armchair and hugged him by the shoulders.
"I'm so
sorry that you have such a life where you have to do it. You are so good, so
kind. I'll always be with you," said he and returned to his chair.
That moment
Prokhor was shocked to the core. He expected anything his friend would say upon
learning about it. But this still boy just hugged him by the shoulders and
absorbed his pain into himself. But even Prokhor did not allow himself to think
about it. He did not allow himself to admit that after that his soul was
languishing with the pain of what he had done. He was moved by the fact that
now he was understood and accepted as he was.
After that,
Prokhor told his friend everything, and Kai also told him everything about his
life there, behind the wall in his house.
His life was
still the same, but with an even greater tightening of control over himself.
After his parents began to find him regularly with a broken face and torn
clothes, they began to put him under house arrest more often. But this only
added to his knowledge, since he did not waste time. He studied. And at the
same time, his desire to find freedom from them grew every day.
Now, being a
teenager and entering their apartment, Kai could already afford not to come
home for the night. He could stay here overnight or hang out here for several
days. Returning home, he listened distantly to lectures about his behavior. But
now it didn't bother him, he didn't care what they said to him. This was
followed by another punishment in the form of arrest for several days.
Sometimes he sat out these days at home if his studies required it, and
sometimes he ran away - and no one and nothing could stop him.
Realizing that
their son had contacted a bad company, his parents decided to send him to
It was
isolation, but not for him.
Being met from
the train, he was taken by car for a long time through the
"I want
to fly with them over this steppe!" he decided firmly, seeing the
galloping horses.
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