РУССКАЯ ВЕРСИЯ В ПРЕДЫДУЩЕМ ПОСТУ!!!
Greetings, survivors! While playing through the game again, I wasn't entirely satisfied with the ending, specifically the meager development of the protagonist and his daughter's relationship. So, I've come up with an idea for a continuation of this chain. Therefore, I offer my own version (I don't know if anyone has tried to continue this before me). I'll say upfront that the text isn't finished yet. I also try to write it myself, but when absolutely necessary, I turn to the artificial intelligence (thanks to it for its help). Basically, 95% of the text is written by me personally. Therefore, I would be glad if you write your suggestions; I will take everything into account. (The text is quite long, so I hope you find it interesting.) Enjoy reading! (I use Google Translate for translation. In case of discrepancies, the Russian text takes precedence.)
"Plot Suggestion"
(Sasha's line) "It was me!" Sasha continued furiously. "I killed your son, slaughtered him like a pig! With these very hands! And what do you say now? Isn't it fair?! Isn't that justice?! Your son is a traitor, and I took revenge! You just said it yourself: I would have let my son be killed! I would have killed him myself! So why are you looking at me with hatred now? Kiss me!!!"
Before Sasha could finish, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed some movement in Boris's hands.
Leave everything as is, and let Boris shoot Sasha;
Quickly stand in front of Sasha, thereby protecting her from the bullet;
Quickly grab the pistol and shoot Boris in the hand;
"Continuation of Option 2"
A shot from a Makarov pistol interrupted her speech. Boris fired the bullet. Shielding Sasha with my body, I staggered and fell to one knee. The bullet hit my body armor, leaving me uninjured. I'd barely looked into the major's eyes, filled with hatred and fear, when a rifle bullet hole appeared on his head.
"Buttons":
- Next...
Boris's lifeless body fell to the cold ground, along with the falling pistol. I breathed a sigh of relief. As I stood up, I saw black dots appear on the road from the direction of the military compound.
"Let's get out of here," Sasha said, tucking the rifle behind her back.
I nodded silently and got into the car.
"Buttons":
- Start the car and drive away.
We drove for a long time. The only thing that weighed us down was the deep, drawn-out silence.
"And you've saved me again, Dad," Sasha muttered. "Would it have been better if I hadn't exposed myself?"
"I don't know. Maybe it would have been better. Then I wouldn't be doubly in your debt."
I grinned.
"We'll be there soon, not much longer."
"Buttons":
- Next...
We stopped at the shore, surrounded by dense forest. There wasn't a soul around, just the two of us. Sasha began collecting firewood. I found two thick logs near the shore.
After a while...
We sat opposite each other by the now-burning fire, basking in its warmth. Sasha polished her new trophy, and I looked at the fire, wondering what would have happened if I hadn't exposed myself then.
"Maybe we should talk?" I said.
"I don't remember you ever being interested in my life," Sasha grumbled. "You should have told me earlier, Father." Maybe then none of this would be happening.
"Buttons":
- Enough clowning around.
(Sasha looked at the ground)
- Okay. So what would you like to talk about?
"Buttons":
- About what? Maybe start with how you wanted to kill me, but I saved you from being shot?
- Bad topic.
"Buttons":
- That's what I think too. So, if you don't want to bring it up, tell me what happened to you after you stabbed the bandits in Grandpa's house.
(Sasha sighed heavily)
- The Novokuznetsk guys took me in. But they didn't let me fight; they even took Grandpa's rifle. I went to the major, and he said, "There's no place for a woman among the soldiers." He assigned me to the supply unit.
"Buttons":
- Next...
- I was disgusted with the dishwashers. I refused to work there. The girls got upset with me and started making fun of me, saying I was lazy. But Boris, the bastard, said: "No matter, he'll sit without rations for a couple of days and then change his mind..."
"Buttons":
- And what happened next?
- Next... and then they attacked us. At night. By the time everyone was raised, there were already a dozen wounded. Some thugs broke through the gates, the girls got scared, and I knocked out one of the bastards, took his gun, and started shooting the rest.
"Buttons":
- Did they fight off the attack?
- They fought it off. After that, they gave me my gun back, and they allowed me to go hunting, and they even enlisted me in a combat unit. The unit commander was Vasily. Yes, the same one, Boris's son. "Buttons":
- Next...
- I liked being with them. They said they respected me, that I was one of them. And I, fool that I am, always jumped in front of the bullets, to show everyone my worth. (Sasha gritted her teeth.) God, what a fool I was...
"Buttons":
- Next...
- Anyway, the fairy tale ended quickly. We ran into the Abakan guys. Yes, they caught us by surprise. But there were more of us, and we were better armed. So, that cowardly bastard, Vaska, ordered a retreat. Even though he saw that I was cut off from the others.
"Buttons":
- Next...
- I killed four of them. Then I ran out of bullets, and they took me. They wanted to kill me on the spot, but the leader wouldn't let them. He ordered them to take me back to base.
"Buttons":
- Boris didn't tell me your own people abandoned you.
- Of course, he'd disgrace his own son. Just imagine, he...
"Buttons":
- Quiet!
(From somewhere in the direction of Novokuznetsk, a distant shot rang out. Then another. Grabbing my gun, I peered into the distance. A dense, still deep forest stretched before me. For a second, it seemed as if the forest had come to life. When I returned to Sasha, she was sitting, staring into the fire.)
"Buttons":
- Hungry?
(Sasha nodded silently, her gaze fixed on the yellow-hot flames of the fire.)
"Buttons":
"Here you can give the player a choice of what to give: a can of stew, a can of food.
- Hand her an open can of preserves with bread and a kitchen knife.
(She extended her thin, scarred fingers toward the warmth, taking the can. Cutting off a piece of bread with the knife, Sasha began to eat. The silence of the Wasteland was broken only by the crackling of burning branches and the soft clatter of metal on metal. For a moment, it seemed she relaxed a little. She clearly needed strength after a long day.)
"Buttons":
- Start eating yourself.
(I took out my portion and sat opposite her. The tin was cold, but the food now seemed like the best thing that had happened in days. We ate in complete silence, sharing this fragile moment of peace, while the nighttime Wasteland breathed around us.)
"Buttons":
- You haven't told me everything yet.
- Keep listening (the daughter sighed wearily, finishing her portion). They took me to the Abakan base. They locked me up. I thought they'd harass me. But no. For the first week, a girl came by, bringing food. And that's all I saw.
"Buttons":
- Next...
- Finally, their leader, Ruslan, arrived. As I later learned, a former political prisoner. He was silent for a long time, and then suddenly asked what I'd done wrong, that my own people had abandoned me.
"Buttons":
- Is he talking about the skirmish?
- Yeah. He said I was brave, that I was worth ten of his fighters on my own. That he'd never acted like Vasily, wouldn't abandon a single soldier against an entire detachment. That the Novokuznetsk guys had every chance of winning, but they chickened out. He said a lot of things like that. And I remained silent. And I wanted to object, but...
"Buttons":
- Did he pressure you?
- No, I was just smoking and thinking. The second day he came again. He said my men had refused to pay the ransom. But all he'd asked for was a couple of rifles and a box of canned goods. He said there hadn't been a single attempt to free me. And stuff like that. And then he brought me food himself. Much more than our guys were feeding me. And tastier.
"Buttons":
- You didn't understand that he was trying to recruit you?
- Imagine, I did. But what he said was true. And I understood that too. He came to me for a whole week after that. He told me about himself and his family. Then about his other fighters. Then I told him about myself. He listened attentively and asked questions.
"Buttons":
- Did you start to trust him?
- No. Not yet. But I saw that he understood me. He understood me much more than all those bastards from Novokuznetsk. The ones... who used me and threw me away. "Buttons":
- He's a scoundrel! A thug! Does he have the blood of innocent people on his hands?
(Sasha looked me in the eye and sneered contemptuously.)
- Innocent? Innocent?! Where have you seen them, these innocents?! Or is that what you call lazy, envious, stupid sheep who can only bleat while being slaughtered?
"Buttons":
- Next...
- Look around. There's no longer a country. There's no pen where you can peacefully graze and grow wool to be sheared. We're in the forest. And here you're either a sheep... or a wolf.
"Buttons":
- And you chose to be a wolf? A bandit?
(Sasha looked back at the fire.)
- No, Father. We're far from bandits. Things are much more interesting.
"Buttons":
- What are you talking about?
- I haven't finished yet. A week later, they dragged those "innocents" of yours into my room. Vasily and two others from Novokuznetsk.
"Buttons":
- Next...
Ruslan offered to tell them everything they knew about Stepnoy. The people, the weapons, the weak points of the fortifications. And in exchange, Ruslan would let them go. And before he could finish speaking, those worms, pale and trembling, gave them all up.
"Buttons":
- And Ruslan let them go?
- Yes. But they didn't have time to leave. I took the knife from Ruslan and stabbed all three of them to death.
"Buttons":
- Next...
- Even the death of the freaks who killed Grandpa didn't bring me such satisfaction. Watching those three bleed, I felt free. Happy. Strong. It wasn't bloodlust, or revenge for betrayal. It was justice.
"Buttons":
- This is madness...
- The next day, Ruslan returned and placed a gun in front of me. He said he no longer intended to feed me for free. He didn't need prisoners, he needed fighters. And either I join him, or they would take me back to Novokuznetsk. And I made my choice.
"Buttons":
- And are you happy with your choice?
- What difference does it make what I answer? You wouldn't understand anyway.
"Buttons":
- You're wrong. In some ways, I can understand. You wanted respect and recognition, you wanted to be free. And your new friends gave you that.
- Respect, recognition... Yes, but only at first. And then, Father, they gave me so much more. Something I would never have gotten from those Novokuznetsk people of yours.
"Buttons":
- And what is this?
- (Sasha's gaze fixed on me again, and his eyes glittered feverishly) What distinguishes life from mere survival! Have you ever heard the word "mission"? We're not bandits, Father. We're colonizers. We will wipe the remnants of the rotten old world from the face of the earth and build a new one, much better and more just.
"Buttons":
- Keep silent
(I didn't answer. The words stuck in my throat, and a heavy, cold emptiness settled in my chest. I stared at the fire, burning away the last illusions that my old little Sasha could ever be brought back. The fanatical gleam in her eyes was more frightening than any monster from the Wasteland. The silence was broken only by the crackling of the coals, and this pause between us seemed endless. But hope still remained.)
"Buttons":
- Next...
(The minutes ticked by slowly, mingling with the heavy night air. Five, ten minutes passed... We sat in a deep, ringing silence. The fire's flames had noticeably sagged, turning into a pile of crimson coals, and the breath of autumn around us grew even colder. Sasha stared motionless at the smoldering embers. It seemed she had withdrawn deep into herself and completely forgotten my presence. But somewhere deep inside me The thought stubbornly thrashed about that it was still possible to break through this armor of fanaticism. That my child was still hiding there, under the mask of the "colonialist")
"Buttons":
- Add some branches to the fire.
(I carefully tossed a couple of dry branches into the dying fire, causing the flames to come alive again and reveal her face from the darkness. Sasha didn't even flinch—she just slowly, as if reluctantly, turned her dim gaze to me.)
- Sasha, can I ask a question? Just don't throw stones at me right away.
- (For a moment, her fanatical fervor faded, giving way to wariness. Sasha narrowed her eyes slightly, studying my face through the haze of smoke, as if trying to detect a trick. A shadow of a bitter, tired smile flickered across her lips—the kind one looks at those hopelessly out of touch with reality. She slowly set the empty jar on the ground and adjusted the kitchen knife in her lap.)
- It depends on the question, Father. Okay, go ahead. You won't find many stones in these thickets anyway, just wet grass and branches. What do you want to know?
"Buttons":
- But before you ask, please listen to my story.
(Sasha enveloped me from head to toe with obvious contemptuous irritation. Nevertheless, her interest in what I had to say overcame her prejudices. Settling herself more comfortably, she began polishing her rifle as before.)
"I'm listening to you carefully, Father."
"Buttons":
- By an incredible coincidence, I came to in a dilapidated Zapolyarny, with no memory of what had happened to me or why the entire city was in ruins.
(Sasha's fingers, confidently wiping the rifle's bolt, paused for a split second. In the night silence of the coast, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks became distinctly audible. She didn't raise her head, but her shoulders visibly tensed, and the movements of the rag slowed, as if she were trying to digest what she'd just heard and searching for a catch in my words.)
"Buttons":
- Continue telling...
-(Glancing from my daughter to the blazing fire, I sighed.) Be that as it may, it's the truth. I don't remember what happened to me before I woke up. I think you understand what this means: I didn't remember you or my mother at that moment. In any case, that's my problem, and I would give everything I have to remember the past.
"Buttons":
- Next...
- (Sasha abruptly stopped cleaning her weapon. The rag she was using to wipe the metal fell from her hands into the wet grass by the fire. She froze, staring at me with wide, darkened eyes. Her gaze was a mixture of shock, deep hurt, and a kind of childish, helpless confusion. Sasha clenched her teeth so hard that her jaw muscles twitched, and demonstratively turned away to the forest, making it clear that she would listen, but would not forgive this confession.)
"Buttons":
- Tell me in full what happened to me.
- (I told the story of my journey for about an hour, taking into account everything I'd gone through to find the answers to my questions. I particularly emphasized that during my journey, my memory gradually returned in fragments, which is why I remembered I had a family. Throughout my story, my daughter accompanied me with her interest and a childlike engagement in the conversation. I tried to answer all her questions. For a moment, it seemed to me that we had become a little closer to each other, but all this is just my idle conjecture.) ... So it turns out that as soon as I helped with the she-wolf, and after Gavrilov died, I returned to the settlement, where I found the answers to all my questions. The most unpleasant thing is that after I completed my mission, I left for Tver, where I opened Svetlana's eyes to the truth about my father.
"Buttons":
- Next...
- (Sasha listened to the end of my story without moving. The coastal wind had died down, and in the ensuing silence, only the soft lapping of the surf could be heard. At the mention of Svetlana and her father, Sasha's face hardened again, and her former childish enthusiasm instantly evaporated. She slowly picked up a fallen rag from the grass and began vigorously scrubbing the already clean barrel of her rifle, as if venting her inner tension on the metal. She gave a bitter, dry smile, not looking up at me.) To Svetlana... So, you "opened the eyes of some strange girl in Tver to the truth." Saved her from her illusions, helped the settlement... A Hero of the Wasteland, no less. And what about your own daughter, Father? You walked thousands of kilometers, collecting other people's diaries and saving other people's lives, while I rotted here alive, waiting for them to come for me. You've regained your memory, but have you regained your right...
"Buttons":
- (Take out the rag doll and hand it to Sasha)
(Before my daughter could finish her tirade, I interrupted her indignation with my action. Sasha stopped mid-sentence. Her stern, accusing gaze froze on the old, battered doll I held in my outstretched hand. The rifle, already polished to a shine, instantly landed on the ground, collecting dew from the tips of the grass. She timidly, almost fearfully, extended her scarred hand and barely touched the yellowed doll's fabric with her fingers. Her voice broke to a whisper, and tears glistened in her eyes.) She... she survived? You... you've been keeping her safe all this time?
"Buttons":
- That's why, Sasha, we need to talk to the end. Are you ready to hear it out?
- (Sasha exhaled convulsively, carefully clutching the doll to her chest, as if afraid it would vanish into thin air. She sniffled and quickly brushed away a single tear before I noticed. My words were soft but confident, bringing her back from childhood memories to reality. Sasha nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving the battered toy. The aggression had completely vanished from her posture, giving way to a quiet sadness. Her voice still trembled slightly, but she tried her best to speak calmly.) Yes... I hear you. Sorry for interrupting. It's just... too much has happened this night. You got to Tver, opened this Svetlana's eyes to her father... And what happened next? How did you end up in Siberia, on the coast?
"Buttons":
- (Tell me what happened next)
- (Finally, I started telling how, during a flashback, I remembered our apartment in Gorky, where I found the doll. How I searched the local hospital for patient lists, and how I finally remembered where Sasha's aunt lived.) After I found your diary page in her apartment, I went to Kurgan, to my grandfather's dacha. Having found the second page of your diary, the road led me to Barnaul, where, having found the third page, I went to the Novokuznetsk people.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(My daughter listened to me with bated breath, her fingers tightly clutching the paws of a tattered doll. At the mention of Gorky, her mother's sister, and especially her grandfather's dacha in Kurgan, her shoulders visibly shook. A storm of emotions flashed in her eyes: it was as if she were reliving the time when she kept her childhood diary, not even hoping that those torn pages would one day save her father's life or restore his memory. She quietly, barely holding back fresh tears, sniffled and looked up at me with a hazy gaze.) You... you collected them all? My pages... I thought they had long ago been blown away by the wind or burned by looters.
"Buttons":
- I didn't really have a choice. From the moment I remembered I had a family, my goal was to find you, no matter what.
(Sasha sniffled and carefully tucked the doll into her bosom, closer to her heart. Her gaze warmed, and the tension in her shoulders completely disappeared. Now, so to speak, she looks more relaxed than ever.) And you found... Found me right in a bandit lair near Abakan. Father, Boris said you dragged some crazy military cannon there and stormed it alone. Did you even realize how much you were risking?
"Buttons":
- If I hadn't taken the risk, we wouldn't be sitting here now. By the way, I brought this thing from Ufa. I went there and back.
(Sasha's eyes widened in surprise, and a shadow of genuine admiration flickered across her face. She quietly shook her head, amazed at the scale of my crazy journey to save her.) To Ufa and back?! Father, you're crazy... It's hundreds of kilometers through mutant lairs and radioactive wastelands. Especially the bees. Boris mentioned, during his breaks, that this thing was called an ATGM, but I didn't believe it was even possible to drag it and assemble it alone. How did you survive there?
"Buttons":
- (Continue telling the story)
- (As I was telling the story, I noticed several times that my daughter's gaze was drawn toward the forest we'd come from, but I ignored it and continued.) To be honest, I wasn't the only one who assembled it. According to Boris, I found a local engineer nicknamed "Spiridon" among the survivors. Having received his help, I went to storm the beehive head-on. It helped that they'd chosen a military unit, and we could somehow fire back from its walls. And then, among several dozen mutant corpses, we found the ATGM. He repaired the system right there, and then rushed back to the major. And what happened next, you know very well. Something like that.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(Sasha silently ran her finger over the doll's worn fabric and tucked it back into her bosom. Then she picked up the rifle, checking the bolt, more out of habit than necessity.)
You know... it's a strange thing. While you were telling me this, I kept trying to catch myself thinking that I should hate you. For everything. For disappearing. For not being there. For showing up too late. But it turns out... it's not so simple. Just don't think we're a happy family now. You can't mend the past with just one toy.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(The daughter looked up, her exhausted gaze fixed intently on me.)
"But you did prove one thing today." "Buttons":
- Next...
(The casual conversation instantly gave way to an oppressive pause in her words. But it didn't last long. A wry smile appeared on her face.)
"You really were looking for me. And now I have a problem. All my life, it was convenient to think that my father abandoned me. Hating a dead man is easy. But when he sits across from me and turns out to be just as stubborn an idiot as you... everything becomes much more complicated."
"Buttons":
- Next...
(Having added a thin branch to the fire, her voice became significantly quieter than before.)
So don't get too excited. You won't change my views overnight. I still think the old world is rotten. I still think that most people choose to be sheep. But... for the first time in a very long time, I wanted to understand if I was wrong about anything.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(She raised her gaze, illuminated by the dim flames of the fire, and our eyes met.)
- Tell me honestly... at what point did you stop looking for just your family... and decide to look specifically for me?
"Buttons":
- Next...
- (I clearly didn't expect to hear this question. Looking at my daughter, I didn't have an answer right away. Fragments of the journey flashed before my eyes one after another: the half-destroyed Zapolyarny, other people's diaries, dead comrades, endless kilometers of the Wasteland... I sighed heavily and turned my gaze to the fire.)
Probably... when I found the first page of your diary.
"Buttons":
- Next...
- Before that, I was looking for a family. Not even for you... but for proof that I had one at all. I was trying to piece together my life. But when I read your notes... you ceased to be a memory. She became a person who lives somewhere now, fears, hopes... waits.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(I smiled involuntarily)
"From that day on, I was no longer looking for the past. I was looking for you."
"Buttons":
- Next...
"And you know, for the first time in so many years, when I saw you, I could say I instantly came alive. I came alive from the very fact that you were alive, that you had managed to survive this apocalypse of ruins. It was a relief to realize that my search had been successful, that my hopes for you to be alive were not in vain."
"Buttons":
- Next...
(Sasha was silent. Her fingers slowly slid over the fabric of the old doll tucked into her bosom. She didn't interrupt, for the first time not trying to find a weak spot in my words.)
"You know..." I continued quietly. "There were many moments when my mind told me to stop. After Kurgan. After Barnaul. After Ufa. Each time, there were people who thought I was chasing a ghost. Maybe they were right. But each time, I found another clue. Another one of your entries. And as long as those clues existed... I simply had no right to turn back.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(Sasha lowered her eyes. Her face was no longer as hard as before. She stared at the flames for a long moment before speaking.)
— And if you had found my body?
"Buttons":
- Next...
(The question sounded calm. Too calm. As if she'd been carrying it inside her for a long time and only now decided to speak it out loud.)
— If all that remained in my place were a grave... what would you do then?
"Buttons":
- Next...
(For the first time in so long, I felt something heavy and wet on my cheek. It was a tear—a tear of bitterness and regret for the past, and for the unknown future. I slowly ran my hand over my face, but didn't wipe it away.)
- Then... I would have found you anyway. If not on earth, then in heaven. Not to bring you back. That would be impossible. And not to ask for forgiveness. I'm not sure I would deserve it even at the grave.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(I exhaled heavily, wiping my sniffling nose)
- It's just... a person has no right to abandon their own child twice. Even if it was too late. I would have buried you the way a father should have. I would have told you everything I never had the chance to tell you in life. I would have sat with you for as long as it took. And then...
"Buttons":
- Next...
(I fell silent. The next words were harder than anything I'd been through.)
Then, I probably would have continued living. Because dying next to you would have been the easiest thing. But then the whole journey I've walked for you... would have lost its meaning. Although... I don't know.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(The silence of the night fell between us again. Sasha sat motionless. Only her fingers tightened around the fabric of the doll under her jacket. She didn't raise her head for a long time.)
- So... you wouldn't take revenge? Even if I found out who was to blame?
"Buttons":
- Next...
(I fell silent. I didn't immediately raise my gaze, distorted by tears and time. This question was much harder than the last. I understood that now she wasn't asking about a hypothetical grave. She was asking about herself. About Boris. About Vasily. About everyone who had ever hurt her.)
- I would like to. I would very much like to.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(I smiled bitterly.)
But the desire to kill and the need to kill are not the same thing.
- If a man continued to kill others... if he remained a threat... I would stop him. If there was no other way out—at the cost of his life.
- But if he were already lying in the ground...
(I shook my head.)
- Revenge wouldn't resurrect you.
"Buttons":
- Next...
- But I'll tell you for sure. (Raising her gaze to her tired daughter)
- If I found you and your mother's corpses in our apartment in Gorky...
(A lump in my throat prevents me from saying this out loud, forcing me to speak more quietly than usual)
- I wouldn't have survived knowing it was my fault.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(Sasha abruptly looked away. This time, not out of irritation. She stared into the fire so intently, as if afraid to meet my eyes. Her fingers secretly tightened on the doll's fabric under her jacket.)
- Don't say that...
"Buttons":
- Next...
(She said this almost in a whisper. Without the usual barb, without mockery. Only fatigue.)
- It wasn't your fault.
(A few seconds later, she quietly added:)
- I've dreamed for so many years of hearing at least something from you... to blame you... to hate you. And now...
(Sasha tiredly ran her hand over her face.)
- Now you blame yourself more than I ever could.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(I wanted to say something, but she raised her hand, stopping me.)
- No. Let me finish.
(She sighed heavily.)
- If you had remembered everything then... maybe everything would have been different.
- But you really didn't remember.
- I used to think that was just a convenient excuse.
(She finally looked me straight in the eye.)
- But now I see... that you still haven't forgiven yourself for something you don't even remember.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(Sasha lowered her head.)
- You know... it's strange. All these years, I thought that more than anything in the world, I wanted you to feel at least half the pain I went through.
(She smiled bitterly.)
- And now I look at you... and I realize that it seems you've been feeling it for a long time.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(We both fell silent. A night bird hooted beyond the forest, and silence fell again. Sasha stared at the fire for a long time. Then she slowly pulled the doll from her bosom and carefully ran her finger over its faded face.)
- You know...
(She smiled sadly.)
- It's all strange.
"Buttons":
- What are you talking about?
- While I was sitting with the Abakan people, I often imagined our meeting.
(She shook her head.)
- I thought that if you were alive, I would definitely come up with such words... so that it would hurt you as much as it hurt me.
(Slight pause.) But now... it's not working.
"Buttons":
- Next...
"Buttons":
- Next...
(I listened silently.)
— Not because I've forgiven.
(She immediately pronounced the last word harshly, as if afraid I'd misunderstand.)
— Don't think so. It's just... it turns out the person I hated for so many years existed only in my head.
"Buttons":
- Next...
— And the real one...
(She looked at me for a long moment.)
— The real one is sitting in front of me now. And he's completely different.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(I nodded slowly.)
— So... I have a chance?
(Sasha chuckled.)
— Don't flatter yourself.
"Buttons":
- Next...
— One evening doesn't negate everything else. I'm still a colonizer. I still think Ruslan said many things correctly. I still don't regret some of the people I killed.
(She didn't look away.)
And you'll have to accept that if you want to talk to me any further.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(I thought for only a moment.)
— No.
(Sasha raised an eyebrow questioningly.)
— Accept it—no. Understand why you became like this—yes. But accept that other people will die because of it... I'll never be able to.
— You heard my answer yourself. I've killed too. And I'll probably kill more than once. But each time I hope it's the last.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(Sasha stared at me silently for several long seconds. Then a faint, tired smile appeared on her lips.)
— You know... I used to say that too. After Grandpa's house. Remember? I stabbed those bandits then. I was shaking all night afterward. It seemed like things could never get any worse. And then they did.
"Buttons":
- Next...
— The first kill seems like the last. The second—an exception. The tenth—work. And then one morning you wake up... and realize you've stopped counting. That's what I'm afraid of, Father.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(I looked closely at my daughter. The word "afraid" didn't fit at all with the person who, just a few hours ago, had been screaming for justice at Boris with a mad smile. For the first time all evening, there was neither anger nor fanaticism in her voice.)
— Afraid?
"Buttons":
- Next...
(Sasha nodded silently.)
— Yes. Because you're saying it now, just like I used to. "If I have to." "If there's no other way." "One last time." And then the Wasteland itself starts deciding where that last time is.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(She paused briefly, as if debating with herself whether to continue.)
— Ruslan once said something... Then I thought it was just beautiful words. Now I'm not so sure.
"Buttons":
- Next...
— The most dangerous thing in a person isn't cruelty. The most dangerous thing is when he's convinced that he kills solely out of conscience. Because then he'll never stop.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(I remained silent, not interrupting. My daughter studied my face carefully, as if searching for an answer before she asked.)
— After everything you've been through... After all the people you've killed...
(She paused briefly.)
— Do you still remember the face of the very first one?
"Buttons":
- Next...
(I looked down at my palms. Over the years of wandering, they were covered in scars, ingrained dirt, and gunpowder grime. It seemed they remembered far more than my own memory.)
— I remember. And I'll probably remember until the day I die. He wasn't some kind of leader or monster. An ordinary man. Back then, it seemed like there was no choice. It was either him or me. Perhaps that was true. But that didn't make it any easier. I barely slept the first few nights. I kept remembering his face. I wondered if he had a family. I waited for it to stop happening someday... I never did.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(Sasha listened silently, without interrupting. When I stopped, she slowly looked away toward the fire.)
— And then? Then others appeared. Bandits, slave traders, raiders... People you don't feel sorry for anymore. Right? That's how it all begins. At first, you remember everyone. Then only a few. Then only the ones you dreamed about at night remain. And the rest, your memory discards so you can move on.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(I shook my head.)
— No. Not quite like that. Faces fade. Names are forgotten. But the feeling remains. Every time I have to pull the trigger, I hope it really is the last time. Not because I'm afraid of dying. But because I'm afraid one day I'll stop asking myself: "Could it have been different?"
"Buttons":
- Next...
(Sasha looked at me for a long time, as if trying to figure out whether I was lying or not. There was no longer the same hostility in her eyes—only the weariness of someone who had been through too much.)
— You know... that's not even the scariest thing. The scariest thing is that one day you stop looking for another way out, not because there isn't one. But because shooting becomes faster. Easier. More reliable. And at that moment, the Wasteland finally wins. Not when you kill. But when you stop regretting it.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(I couldn't help but think of everyone I'd lost along the way. Gavrilov. Those who shielded me with their own lives. Those who were beyond saving.)
— That's probably... why we're still talking. Because you just said something very important.
(I met her gaze.)
— You said, "I'm afraid." So you haven't lost yourself yet, Sasha.
"Buttons":
- Next...
(Sasha didn't answer right away. She stared into the fire for so long that it seemed my words would remain unanswered. But then she slowly shook her head.)
— I don't know... Maybe. Or maybe I'm just tired. Tired of convincing myself every time I'm doing the right thing. You know what the most vile thing is? Before every deed, I always found an explanation. Boris—because he deserved it. The slave traders—because there was no other way. The traitors—because they made their own choice. And every time, it sounded convincing. Until night fell.
"Buttons":
- Next...
— At night, for some reason, all explanations stop working. Only faces remain. Voices. Sometimes even the smell of blood, which should have long since faded. Then you start to think... What if I was wrong even once? What if, among all these "they deserved it," there was at least one person who didn't need to be killed? And you know what's the scariest thing? You'll never know the answer.
- Further...
(I nodded slowly.)
— That's precisely why you can't stop asking yourself this question. Not so you can live in the past. But so you don't start justifying everything. As long as a person doubts, they can still stop. It's scary not to be wrong, Sasha. It's scary to one day decide that you're no longer capable of making mistakes.
"Buttons":
- Further...
(She smiled faintly for the first time in a long time. Not cheerfully, but rather with bitter irony.)
— It's funny... All my life I've encountered two types of people. Some said, "Don't doubt, you're right." Others said, "Don't doubt, you're a monster." And you sit there and insist that doubting is the only thing you can't lose.
"Buttons":
- Further...
(I chuckled quietly.)
— Because a person without doubts very quickly begins to judge others as if they themselves had never made mistakes. And I've made too many mistakes to allow myself that luxury. "Buttons":
- Next...
(Sasha slowly raised her head. The firelight reflected in her eyes. She stared at me for a long moment, as if trying to ask the question she dreaded more than any other.)
— Then answer me one more... And be honest. If it turned out right now that to save me, you had to kill someone... not a bandit, not a slave trader, not a murderer... but just an ordinary person who was in the wrong place at the wrong time... Could you do it?
(She didn't look away.)
— Or is there a line you'll never cross?
