Ей было 8.

The next morning

Sofia was sleeping soundly in her bed when her mother’s gentle but insistent voice broke the quiet: “Sweetie, wake up. We’re going to the fair today.” The girl slowly opened her eyes, stifled a long yawn, and stretched. Still half-asleep, she climbed out from under the blanket and went to her wardrobe. She put on a dark turquoise shirt and a pale pink skirt — the outfit that usually made her feel a little brighter — and headed to the living room. “I’m ready!” she announced with more cheer than she actually felt, but her parents smiled, and that alone eased something inside her. They set out together. Her parents quickly fell into conversation with an old friend — their voices light and relaxed, as if the world itself were in harmony. Nikita and Alena were laughing, chasing each other between the booths. Sofia tried to join them, but Alena, shrieking with laughter, darted after Nikita and forgot she was even there. Well… that figures. Sofia slowed, then stopped entirely, a familiar heaviness tightening beneath her ribs. She turned away before anyone could see her face. At some point her feet carried her toward the edge of the fair, where the noise faded and the forest began. Here she could at least be alone with her thoughts. She was so lost in them that she didn’t notice the two men passing nearby at first. Maxim and Anton. She recognized them instantly. A coldness rippled through her chest. “Hey, look,” Anton murmured, nudging his friend. “Isn’t that the kid who yelled at you about smoking? She looks miserable.” Maxim’s gaze followed Anton’s gesture. His expression was unreadable — calm to the point of being unnatural — but something in that calmness made Sofia’s skin crawl. He stepped closer. Too close. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Someone upset you?” His tone was almost kind, but beneath it lay an impatient edge, a subtle pressure that made her want to shrink back. Sofia took a step away. Words clung to her throat and refused to come out. She didn’t trust him — she couldn’t — and her body knew it even if she hadn’t admitted it yet. A flicker of irritation crossed Maxim’s face, quick and sharp. Then he crouched down in front of her, forcing her to meet his eyes. The gesture was meant to seem gentle, approachable — but somehow it only made her pulse quicken with fear. “Well?” he urged softly. “Want to come with us?” Sofia swallowed and tried to steady herself. “I… I’m Sofia…” she began, searching for something safe, something normal to hold onto. “And you are—” She didn’t finish. Maxim seized her wrist abruptly and yanked her forward. “I’m Maxim,” he said, as if nothing were wrong. “And that’s Anton.” Shock froze her for a moment. Her wrist stung, but her body reacted too slowly, as if she were moving under water. Then instinct surged through her, and she tore herself free, stumbling back several steps. “Hey!” Anton barked, immediately taking off after her. He wasn’t running like someone playing tag — Sofia felt that instantly. The intensity in his movements, the narrowed eyes, the way he leaned forward as if ready to grab her… Nothing about it was playful. A cold spike of panic shot up her spine. Why are they doing this? What do they want? She sprinted down the path toward the neighboring street, breath shuddering in her throat. Her legs trembled with each step, and her heartbeat thundered so loud she could barely hear her own thoughts. She didn’t see the rock until her foot struck it. She stumbled and fell hard, knees scraping painfully across the ground. Anton caught up almost at once. He didn’t offer a hand or ask if she was hurt. He looked down at her with empty, unfeeling eyes — eyes that saw her as something to be collected, not someone to care about. “Get up,” he said coldly. “We’re going back to Maxim, stupid girl.” Sofia lifted her head, and the way he stared at her — detached, indifferent — pierced deeper than the fall itself.