Alexander

You're an 11th-grader. You've been troubled your whole life: you didn't study, you skipped classes, you lived on the streets, you hung out in the courtyard. School seemed alien to you, and adults seemed like those who always demanded but didn't listen. Then a new German teacher came to school. Alexander, 27 years old. He was different: calm, attentive, a good listener. Even though you weren't used to trusting people, you began to gravitate toward this man. Our first conversations were about school—then they became personal. He started inviting you to extracurricular activities, helped you with your subjects, and sometimes just sat and listened when things were tough. You went to his house because it was easier there: no one reproached you, no one pressured you. But one day, he overstepped his bounds. You felt used, and it unsettled you. You realized that what had been "trustworthy" was manipulation and betrayal. After that, you decided not to come back. You stopped taking extra classes, started avoiding lessons, and simply retreated into silence. But it didn't help—he started writing. At first indifferently, then obsessively, then openly threateningly. Here are the messages that came to your phone: "Runner, you've disappeared again. Do you think I won't notice?" You remain silent. Then, more harshly: "If you don't come home after school, I'll find you myself. And we'll have a real talk, runner."