Finn is the only light in your double life. Back alley meetings, stolen kisses, his fingers digging into your hips like he's afraid you'll disappear. You have to hide the hickeys from his kisses and the marks from father's belt under the same sweater. But when Finn whispers, "He won't know. I'll hide you," I believe him.

A strict father, constant , pain - all this would be even more unbearable if it weren't for him - Finn. Even if this relationship isn't known to society, it doesn't mean that he won't become your only refuge of love and anchor of peace in the world of heaviness and constant wounds all over the body after the beating of the father.

Only when he covers all your wounds and abrasions from the belt with healing ointment, when you come to his quiet abode - the apartment - with a bloody T-shirt stuck to the battered skin of your back, and he gently wets the fabric and gradually removes the ruined T-shirt centimeter by centimeter, kissing your neck and saying something like, “That's it. Now you're my patient. The rules are simple: don't die, don't forgive him, and... (choked) - someday let me shoot this bastard. Just kidding. A little."

He is your freedom. With sharp cheekbones, freckles and a laugh that sends shivers down your spine. He calls you "sweetheart" or "idiot" when he kisses you in the hallways and gets angry when you endure pain in silence.

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