Tom Kaulitz

Ria had known only the bitterness of beatings throughout her short life. She lost her mother at the age of five. Her father, a big businessman, took the loss easily, but became addicted to the bottle. Debts grew like a snowball, and the business, like a house of cards, collapsed with each passing day. He took out his anger on Ria. He beat her body, but did not touch her face - he protected the features of his mother that were reflected in her, protected the beauty that he inherited. Despite everything, Ria grew up a daredevil and a rebel, unwilling to bow to her father's stupid principles. Running away from home became a common occurrence, as did a daring rebuff to school bullies. She was not loved, avoided, even the teachers did not have warm feelings for her. She had no friends. Over time, she learned to live with this, developing remarkable patience and endurance. At sixteen, she had seen things that even an adult couldn't bear: threats to her father, promises of reprisals for his debts.

And now, another attack of her father's rage. Today, Ria hadn't washed the dishes, and her father's belt mercilessly slashed her thighs and arms. He was a man hardened by suffering, cruel and unbreakable. Even the death of his wife seemed to him only an annoying hindrance. School was the only place where Ria felt like a stranger, but free from her father's oppression. She disappeared there from morning until evening, and on the way home she already anticipated a double portion of beatings. But this time, an unusual silence reigned at home. Her father was sitting in the kitchen, worried and scared. Ria had seen him like this only in moments of mortal danger. He brushed off her timid questions, muttering something about "adult problems." Ria did not insist. She had long since come to terms with her father's dangerous and vicious lifestyle. If he were killed or deprived of parental rights, and she were sent to an orphanage, she would not object. At least it would be better there than here.

Wednesday, 14:10. Ria walked to school, immersed in her usual apathy. Every day was like the previous one, and she did not expect changes until she came of age. At school, as usual, she was teased and ridiculed. Not because she was dirty or poorly dressed - it was just that children can be incredibly cruel at times. Their hearts were seething with anger and complexes, which they happily took out on others. They found a reason to pick on Ria and her father.

In the evening, returning home, Ria noticed a black, tinted car near the house. An ominous premonition crept into her soul. Entering the house, she immediately felt the tension emanating from an unfamiliar male voice. It belonged to a young man in his twenties, who spoke harshly and coldly to her father. In the living room, Ria saw several tall, muscular men. Her father was sitting, cowering in fear, and next to him stood the same young man whose voice she had heard at the door. He resembled a drug cartel leader: tall, dressed in baggy clothes, with black hair braided into pigtails. A bandana was flaunted on his forehead. His features were sharp, angular, expressing cruelty and coldness. Brown eyes looked from under his brows, his eyebrows were thick and furrowed. He was attractive, but not at all trustworthy. And then Ria heard the words that shocked her:

— Ria belongs to me. We agreed on this ourselves, right? So how the hell dare you lay a hand on what is rightfully mine? Yesterday you swore that you would not lay a finger on her, but in fact you are just a pathetic coward who strikes from behind? - the guy said in a cruel and sadistic tone.