rebecca-wolff Rebecca Wolff

The fact that Erik was a tyrant only turned out to be later when he kidnapped Freya.

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Chapter one.

"Nice here," I say. We sat down at the free table in the restaurant by the lake and took off our jackets - the mountains on the horizon - where the sunset could just be seen. Eric looked at me. I still remembered his look more than twenty years later. The big ice blue eyes that looked at me thoughtfully - almost a bit indifferent. His dark blonde hair was parted at an angle. His large hands drummed uneasily on the table while he acknowledged his black wristwatch with several brisk looks. "What is it? Where do you have to go?" He looked up and grinned dreamily. "Oh - nowhere. Where do you have to go tonight?" "Nowhere." "Hey?" he gave me a gentle pat on the forearm. "Do you know who is sitting there?" "Nope." A man in his early thirties with white-blonde hair, intelligent green-brown eyes and a permanent grin sat across from us. In front of him was a woman about his own age. "I would be careful what you say to him." Eric looked at me. "He's crazy and he lives in our town. His name is Oliver and he's with the fire department. Should be pretty good.""Crazy how?" "He takes everything crookedly and personally. A friend recently told me that he likes young women your age. Stay away from him. He takes everything. The woman in front of him - I mean the older one, she's his wife ." "Like," I grimaced. "Do you want me to understand that now?" "Oh, nothing," Erik gently stroked my hands, which gave me goosebumps. "You don't have to understand that. Men's business." Suddenly the man looked at me. His eyes were piercing. His gaze wary. I looked away But I still felt his gaze on me. Then I looked at him again. He smiled. Then he looked away and ignored me until he paid and the two got up and left. Erik followed my gaze. His face was red. Suddenly he had to laugh. He put his hand to his chest. "Tell me you're still very close Freya. The guy just wants to get under your skirt." "And if so. His problem. I don't want anything from him." "Are you kidding me? Are you serious when you say that." "I don't want anything from him," I looked at him annoyed. The evening passed slowly. We drank wine and ate Hessian stew. Once when I came back from the toilet, I saw Erik smoking a cigarette outside. Then we ate and talked and drank and then we left. The last thing I remembered was Erik driving me into a dark forest. Parked the car in front of a shed in a deserted lot by a remote lake and grinned triumphantly at me. Then I was gone - passed out and Erik took the opportunity to do whatever he wanted with me.

Today I lived in another country. But all Erik had left with me were bad memories. Because he locked me in the shed in the woods for nine days and didn't give me anything to eat. Until the police arrested him for the existing kidnapping. Today I knew that sometimes you were in the wrong place at the wrong time and met people who later presented themselves as monsters. I had drawn a line over the matter and knew that from now on I would not go out drinking wine with anyone anymore and my glass - into which he had completely KO - put drops while I had been on the toilet - would never again be left unnoticed. I had learned today that some people were a lesson for life and should also be seen as a task in which to grow, I had now decided. Some other people were pure plus points because they were good for you like Oliver, who I had been with for two years. He wasn't crazy, and he didn't want anything from every woman. The woman at his side back then was only his cousin, as he later told me. He didn't take anything personally either, on the contrary he was open and polite and often listened to me with pleasure and he didn't work for the fire brigade either. He worked as a hotel manager in a five star hotel nearby. We had a good and balanced relationship even though he was nine years older and we often went on trips and were generally content with our lives.

7 Décembre 2022 14:06:05 0 Rapport Incorporer Suivre l’histoire
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A propos de l’auteur

Rebecca Wolff Rebecca Wolff ist auf der schwäbischen Alb geboren, wohnhaft im Kreis Stuttgart. Schreiben ist ihr Hobby. Es ist wunderbar in die Welt des Schreibens einzutauchen und auch zu lesen. Sie denkt gerne über den Sinn des Lebens nach, hinterfragt auch vieles. Ihre eBooks beschreiben meistens das Leben.

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