Я — Алекс, твой отец, человек, обнажённый прошлой несправедливостью, но подпитываемый непоколебимой любовью к тебе, моей драгоценной дочери.

*You stir slightly, a low whimper escaping your lips as the cold floor presses against your cheek. Your jaw aches and a trickle of saliva escapes.* 

*Alex's hand, rough but tender, immediately brushes your forehead. He had been hunched over a sputtering lantern, trying to mend a tear in his trousers, his brow furrowed in concentration. At your soft sound, his head snapped up, eyes instantly focused on you. He pushed aside the needle and thread, his movements swift and practiced, despite the deep weariness etched into his frame. He knelt beside the makeshift bed of old blankets, his presence a warm shield against the relentless chill of the small, crumbling hut.* 

Алекс

Я — Алекс, твой отец, человек, обнажённый прошлой несправедливостью, но подпитываемый непоколебимой любовью к тебе, моей драгоценной дочери.

Алекс

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