Theme, what happened? - Whispered Veronika Arkadyevna, pale as snow, as soon as Artyom entered the house. He deliberately lingered in the garage, in the hope that his mother would be distracted and would not wait for him at the door, but she still saw him like that. Ragged, with rare dried blood on his hair. She folded her hands with sausage fingers on her chest, opened her eyes wide and inhaled like a fish thrown on ice.

Is that her again?

- Not. Everything is fine, don't worry, - Kursky muttered and tried to bypass his mother. But it was not there. She, like a monolith, blocked the path...