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– You’re running into it! He pulled me towards him, and I literally slammed into him. I felt the hardness of his muscles, the smell immediately entered my lungs – tart, expensive, masculine, and this caused a shiver. He scared me. He frightened me with his strength, his silence, his impartiality. What if he makes me…

– I’m not going there! I screamed hysterically, dug my nails into his wrist. – Let me go, figlio di puttana! – (You son of a bitch – transl. from Italian.) I won’t go, understand?!

– Shut up, – he hissed, and twirled my hair around his fist.

I screamed and grabbed his hand.

– Let me go, – she squeaked somehow plaintively, even pitifully. She felt sorry for herself. What have I gotten myself into? How now… He pulled me, forced me to look into his face. His eyes shone frighteningly, and I did not see anything but this brilliance.

Finally, squeezing the strands more strongly, he released me, firmly grabbed my elbow and led me forward. I no longer struggled and did not resist. Her legs gave way, there was a lump in her throat, tears came to her eyes.