"Andrei, wake the fuck up! Flight leave in an hour, do you want to continue rotting in this country or not?"
Boris repeatedly prodded his cousin, who was still drunk after last night’s escapade.
“I swear to god Andrei if you don’t get the fuck up I’m going to leave you here to die.”
Andrei gave his first sign of being alive after last nights drunken escapade, and rolled on his back to face his cousin.
“I also swear to God if you don’t stop fucking touching me, I will break your dirty little fingers.”
Boris smiled at the threats of his younger cousin, and went into his room to grab a few last possessions; his porno magazines and bootlegged Dvd’s, the contents of which were also probably pornographic. The two had lived in Russia their entire lives, with nothing to show for their lives other than a few thousand empty cigarette cartons and liquor bottles. Crooked police patrolled the streets during the day, and if it wasn't the gangs at your throat during the night, it was the junkies. There was no chance for improvement in their lives. No chance for financial success. No chance to become anything other than the drug addict-pieces of shit they had developed into. Andrei’s mother had him when she was 17, to a father of whom she probably wouldn’t even recognize. She quickly fell out of his life due to her constant chase of addictions, so he was raised by his aunt Alisa. Alisa and her husband Bellic suffered conditions similar to Andrei’s mother, only they were much more efficient at hiding their addictions. They stuck around to raise their son Boris and his cousin, but they also did a great job at giving absolutely zero care as to what these two were getting into. Their curfew was non-existant, they attended school whenever they pleased, and weeks were spent away from their household without even the slightest worry for their kin.
"Russian streets turn a child into a man,” Bellic would always tell his family, typically while high on a mixture of heroin and crystal meth. Alisa would usually laugh as this was said, knowing her husband was no more of a “man” than any of the other junkies who roamed the Russian alleys.
In a sense, Boris was like a big brother to Andrei. He ensured Andrei would come up the same exact way he had growing up, nothing more nothing less. He bought Andrei his first cigarette packet when he was eleven, his first beer at thirteen, and his first shot of heroin at barely fifteen years old.Image Source: http://elesabafam.blogspot.com/
