Outside – 1:12. A big moon – full, silver. The street – empty. The air – fresh but cold. The stars – bright.
Tomas walked slowly. Hands in his pockets.
Whether I live or die – it makes no difference.
Suddenly, in the distance:
– Someone help! – a girl's voice. Quiet. Trembling.
Tomas stopped. Looked around. By the bus stop – 4 silhouettes. One was holding a girl by her hair. She was on the ground. Clothes torn. Her hand on her face.
I'm drunk. Not my problem.
He turned to walk away.
But again – quieter:
– Help...
The third point.
– HEY! – his voice rang out loud, chilling. – WHAT ARE YOU DOING? LEAVE THE GIRL ALONE!
The men turned. Laughter – rough, drunk.
– Get lost if you want to stay alive, – growled one, big, wearing a leather jacket.
– And if I don't? – Tomas' voice – cold, with a crooked smile.
– Then you'll get it too! – said another, skinny, with a tattoo on his neck.
Tomas started laughing. Loudly. Chillingly. Without joy. Like a madman.
The men exchanged looks:
"This one's not right in the head."
"Or too drunk."
Tomas quietly, coldly:
– Alive or dead... Let's see what fate shows.
He stepped closer. Fist tightened – muscles outlined through the coat sleeve. Fingers – white.
The thugs attacked.
The first – a punch to the face. Tomas turned – the blow missed by his ear.
– Too slow, – he muttered.
His hand shot forward – two fingers to the neck nerve (vagus nerve, near the carotid artery). Precise. Fast.
The man collapsed – eyes rolled back, body like a sack.
Second – from the side.
– Now you! – he growled.
Tomas grabbed the wrist, twisted it 90 degrees:
– Bad angle.
His knee – straight into the liver (right side, under the ribs). Air burst from lungs with a groan.
The opponent fell to his knees:
– You... devil...
The girl opened her eyes. Full of fear. Pain. Blood on her lip.
She saw: the same sad man from the bar. Now – cold, but threatening. As if afraid of nothing and as if no one could defeat him.
The third – tried to run.
– Not so fast, – said Tomas, stepping sideways.
One strike – directly to the solar plexus (under the sternum, diaphragm).
The man folded, fell. Wheezing:
– Who... are you...
Silence. Only the wind. And the girl's breathing.
Tomas turned. Walked toward her slowly. Steps – heavy.
She curled into a corner. Knees to chest. Hands – trembling.
When he reached her:
– Don't be afraid. I won't do anything to you, – his voice – low, but no longer cold. Just tired.
He examined her closely: it was the same girl from the bar, only now her clothes were torn – the blouse ripped at the shoulder. Face – blood on her lip, a bruise under her eye. Hands – scraped, nails broken. Leg – dislocated, foot turned to the side. Eyes – brown. Trembling. But less fear. More worry.
– Are you okay? – he asked softly. – Should I call the police? An ambulance?
– No! – she shouted. Her voice – thin but firm. – No need! Please...
– Why? – he sat beside her, but not too close.
– They... they know my uncle. Police would be worse. Please...
– All right. Then maybe you can tell me where you live? I'll call a taxi. Or call your friends.
She lowered her head. Hair fell across her face.
– My phone... broke... – she showed the shattered screen on the ground. – Thank you for helping, but I'll find a place to sleep on my own.
She tried to stand. Leaned on the wall. Put her foot down – collapsed back onto the ground. Pain twisted her face:
– Aaa!
– Your leg, – said Tomas. – It's dislocated. You can't walk.
She tried to smile through the pain:
– I... am strong.
Tomas took off his coat. The fabric smelled of whiskey and cologne. He placed it on her shoulders.
– It's pretty cold. And you're shaking.
He crouched on one knee. Back toward her.
– Get on my back. I live nearby. I'll let you stay the night. You need your wounds treated. And... sleep.
She hesitated. Eyes – wide.
What motives does he have? But I'm too weak now. I'll freeze on the street.
He helped. Protected her.
– You're... not a serial killer? – she asked with a crooked smile.
– No. Just... tired of living, – Tomas answered plainly.
She laughed – weakly, but sincerely.
– Then... okay. I'm Laura.
Slowly, cautiously she wrapped her arms around his neck. Hands – cold, trembling. Climbed on.
– Mhm... All right, – Tomas whispered