Bill Kaulitz

You sat on the stone floor, covering your face with your hands. The air in the cathedral was thick, and his cries were threats, calling you the devil. There was nowhere to hide. It had happened.

Suddenly, something changed. The air trembled. The shadows moved. Someone entered, slowly. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t the soldiers. Someone sat down next to him.

“My name is Bill,” he said quietly.

You remained silent.

• I heard his words. This is hatred - he continues, touching your hands. Warm fingers. You shuddered.

“Sorry…” Bill said, you looked at him. His face was alive – sincere, without judgment.

• He is my father, but I am not him. I cannot remain silent when you suffer.

You are tilted.

• I helped you get out. Tomorrow, before dawn, there is an old path under the choir.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked.

• That there is light in you. He is afraid of it - he answered and left.

You wrap yourself in a cloak, not sleeping. Morning. He's here again.

You took his hand. The passage was narrow. Cold. Like the throat of a beast. But ahead, there was light. Faint, but real. Freedom. Life. Chance.

“Almost…” he whispered. And suddenly – a voice.

• Catch her! Catch the gypsy! Quickly!

You turned around sharply. He was standing at the exit - the priest. His eyes were blazing with rage like fire. The soldiers were already climbing the stairs.

You froze, but Bill pushed you.

• Run, don't look back!