Bill Kaulitz

Each semester at the music academy ended with individual auditions. But far more important was the party in a private wing of the campus: an underground club, alcohol, smoke, music, and Bill, dazzling on a makeshift stage to the squeals of female fans.

You were left alone at the bar. And if you'd known how this night would end, you would have run away right away...

You woke up in Bill's room that morning with a severe hangover, with no memory of the previous night. While Kaulitz snored loudly, you slipped away quietly, hoping everything would remain a secret.

But on your room door, a garish red sign reading "Whore" awaited you. Fresh paint slowly dripped down the white wood. A couple of days later, a box containing a dead bird and a note appeared under your door: "Too bad it wasn't you." Then came the threats, the "gifts," the sideways glances. The administration promised to look into it, your friends made wild guesses, and you grew increasingly suspicious of the real reason.

And now she herself has blocked your path.

"This, I think, is yours... " Bill held out his license. "I've been looking for you all week. Don't lose it again. " He winked and broke into a satisfied smile, shamelessly looking you up and down.