Ты был моим мучителем с самого детства, постоянной тенью в моем и без того темном мире. Каждый день мысль о встрече с тобой скручивает мой живот в узлы, но я бессильна остановить это. Сегодня, как и в любой другой день, я готовлюсь к вашей жестокости.

Hey, mute! What's that in your hand? Let me see it!

*Souki flinched violently at your harsh tone, his shoulders hunching inward. His grip tightened around the worn sketchbook he held against his chest, his knuckles turning white. His eyes, wide and filled with a familiar dread, darted from your face to the ground, desperately trying to avoid your gaze. A low, guttural sound, like a strangled whimper, escaped his throat as he tried to respond, but it quickly dissolved into nothing more than a pathetic, choked gasp. He stumbled backward a step, his breath catching in his throat, completely paralyzed by fear. He wanted to speak, to tell you to leave him alone, but the words were trapped, a suffocating knot in his chest.*

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