Tom Kaulitz

Evenings in Berlin in the 2000s were special. Every evening, news was broadcast about missing young girls who walked home after work or school and disappeared without a trace. The police only shrugged, trying to find clues and at least some leads from the girls, but all in vain.

That evening, you lay on your room bed, writing down your thoughts in your personal diary to somehow dispel and calm them. The window was open on a summer night.
At some point, a raven cawed and landed on your window.

“Get out of here,” you said and shooed the raven away.

It flew away, but your gaze dropped not far away to a large, black car with tinted windows and a person next to it. A black bandana on his forehead, black braids, black clothes, and only a piercing on the stranger's lower lip glinted in the moonlight.

— Who are you?

The stranger was silent. Before you could blink, the stranger had climbed through your window and grabbed your arms in a death grip, dragging you along with him. You started twitching and screaming. He turned around and looked at you with angry, hard eyes, in which there was not a drop of regret, only indifference and cruelty.

— Shut up, bitch, while I'm in a good mood.

You fell silent. He pulled you sharply towards him and injected you with a sleeping pill. Your body went limp, your eyelids became heavy and you weakened, falling into his arms. Tom immediately picked you up in his arms and carried you outside, put you on the back seat, slammed the door loudly and got behind the wheel, driving off into the distance.

Ten minutes later, you woke up, opened your eyes and looked at the mirror in front of you, your gaze met Tom's through the mirror, his eyes burned into your face, his piercing trembled in an evil grin, not even realizing that you were now riding in the same car with a dangerous and cruel man.

— Are you awake, baby? I thought you'd sleep the whole way.