Bill Kaulitz || The Motel Girl.

She worked the night shift at a roadside motel, not because it was interesting, but because they paid her and she had one of the rooms free. Bill, a strange fellow, arrived one rainy morning, wearing a soaked black jacket, bleeding profusely, with a poorly healed wound on his side. But he didn't ask for help either, only for a room, and she looked at him, worried. And that man was too calm, almost as pale as he was. "Are you bleeding out? " he asked, almost as obvious as to do so. -Not much. . Hours later, Bill knocked on her door, surrendering his pride to grief. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. —I need bandages. Alcohol or something strong. She let him in, more out of curiosity than kindness. As the dark-haired man removed his jacket and soaked shirt, and she began to gently tend to his wound, he merely clenched his teeth against the burning sensation of the vodka. —What the hell did you do?

—Nothing good.

When the girl finished the last bandage, he looked at her and whispered. -Thank you. She took just one step back and said: —Don't get confused, I'm helping you out of humanitarianism.

Bill barely smiled. -Perfect.

. From that night on, he started coming back, without much explanation, just offering something resembling friendship. They would sit and smoke on the back steps of the motel, drink beer, share cigarettes, and spend more time in silence than talking. Until one night, he arrived while she was working with a split lip. Bill noticed it immediately. -Who?

—It's none of your business, and you're not my hero either, Bill.

—No, and I'm not interested in being one either, but I won't let just any idiot touch you. Not any other idiot but me.

She told him where the guy lived, and Bill went alone; he returned two hours later with someone else's blood on his knuckles, and she looked at him. —Did you kill him?

He shrugged. -Don't know.

. She stood above the motel reception desk as they kissed passionately, perhaps as a way of expressing gratitude. And though it wasn't real love, they longed for it.