I should be right in my fears. It was past midnight when I turned onto our street. I didn't park the car right in our driveway - I didn't want to risk waking anyone up by slamming the car door and adding to the annoyance of my own incompetence. I hurriedly walked the few steps it took to cross the street and quietly opened the front door - and any hope of getting out of here with impunity was nipped in the bud when I saw the streak of light coming through the kitchen door. I took a deep breath and took a step toward the light, then stood in the doorway. Ready to pick up another lecture. My father was sitting at the kitchen table with his head bowed, an empty bottle of wine in front of him - an image that I was not familiar with. Since when did he drink that much during the week? He liked to treat himself to a beer - but mainly on the weekends. Seeing him like this irritated me. "Jolien, where have you been?" He slurred. He tried to cover it up as best he could, but I heard it very clearly. "I was with Bekka," I answered quickly. "Is that so?" He slowly lifted his head and after a few seconds, his eyes left the bottle. He was looking straight at me now. "It's funny that Bekka called earlier and asked for you when you were sitting next to her the whole time." Shit! The lie flew mercilessly around my ears. I opened my mouth to say something, but he held up his hand, signaling me to be quiet with the gesture. "You were with him, weren't you?" I felt my cheeks start to glow. And I knew he saw it too, even though the kitchen was dimly lit. Could he know about Malio? Impossible. Except.. "Silia told me that you are meeting the offspring of Samael." He confirmed my suspicions. What bothered me even more than the huge catastrophe I was about to slither toward was the fact that my father apparently knew Malio's father's first name. "How do you know how Malio's father...." "So it's true?" He interrupted me harshly. ,, Jolien, unlike you, I googled them. Do you have any idea who they are?" He stroked his chin, his graying beard, which had long since stopped being a three-day stubble. He has never worn it for so long - that was also due to his long working days. But he was right about one thing. I had never googled Malio. Never searched his social media accounts. Although I've toyed with the idea so many times of simply typing Dakaria's name into a search engine's input window, I ultimately never did. " Jolien, you are dangerous! The whole family! Drugs, protection money..." "Stop it! I don't want to hear that." I interrupted my father loudly. It was easier to ignore the truth. As long as it was possible. "Are you sleeping with him?" He had gotten up unsteadily and supported himself on the left and right of the tabletop. I gasped. I felt so attacked in my privacy that I automatically switched to resistance. A mistake. "None of your business!" I said harshly, glaring at him angrily. "So it's true - my god, Jolien. Are you that stupid? Do you seriously think he's interested in you? Malio's only interested in himself himself - he uses you. He would never associate with someone like you - I forbid you to see him any longer!" His words hurt. Because he obviously thought Malio didn't think I was good enough. As not fit for a relationship. ,, At least I hope you used contraception and you don't catch anything from him. By all the whores he's sleeping with or worse, you're so dumb and let some little prick get you pregnant," he said angrily. Every single word was like a slap in the face. They hurt me to the core. I blinked hard not to burst into tears immediately. But the pain wasn't the only thing surfacing, the anger his words evoked in me was just waiting to erupt any second. " Damn - enough Dad! Save your lecture. Save every additional word! You want to talk about birth control?" I laughed out loud. "You're a few years late - Mom did that for you! Like she always did for you! And before you judge me, get it take control of your own life." The pain had turned into a huge wave of anger. "What damn father puts the responsibility of his four-year-old daughter on a sixteen-year-old? How poor can you be? Silia isn't Amelie's mother, what you're doing is..." but he wasn't to find out how I found his behavior - because before I could finish my sentence, the wine bottle flew just millimeters past my head and smashed with one loud bang on the kitchen wall. I felt some glass shards fly into my face while the others splattered around my feet on the hardwood kitchen floor. My eyes widened. Not only from fear, but also from fear. "Get out of my sight!" I heard my father yell. I felt the keys, which I was still clutching tightly, slip out of my hands. They fell to the floor with an unnatural, loud clink. "GO!" He roared at me with a red face and I wondered where this raging anger came from all of a sudden. I didn't know him like that. I was unable to take a single step. Everything inside me screamed - knew that I had to go now to avoid further escalation, but my feet just didn't obey me anymore. Something warm ran down my cheek, although I already knew what it was, my eyes filled with tears when I saw the fresh blood on my fingertips. All self-control was gone and although tears were running down my cheeks, my father's expression didn't change. She continued to stare at me, furious, like a wild animal waiting for the wrong move of her prey. As he took a step towards me, my sanity finally snapped - I bent down for the keys and gave in to the only impulse forming inside me. Run. I escaped from my own house. From the place I called home. Away from people who until a few minutes ago I was sure would never hurt me. The veil of tears blinded me. Still I ran. Blind through the night As my lungs burned and a stitch from hell kept me from putting one foot in front of the other, I found my phone in my pants pocket. I let out a sigh of relief - and it was almost ironic that my father's words drove me straight into Malio's arms. Because it was his number that I dialed. "Jolien, I didn't think you'd be longing for me so quickly," he greeted me amused. When I didn't reply, just trying to fight back the tears that were constantly running down my cheeks, Malio's voice became more serious. "Jolien?" Before I answered him, I sniffed, which he immediately interpreted correctly. "Jolien, what's going on? Where are you?" I heard some jingling. "Jolien!" Malio yelled into the receiver almost in panic. "I don't know where I am, I just started running." "What? Why? I'll be right there!" , and, as if in confirmation, I heard the low engine of a car roar. "I don't know..." "Turn on the GPS on your phone and send me the location - now!" He hung up and I followed his instructions. The only question was how long it would take him to pick me up from this wasteland I was in right now. Definitely a place not to be at night as a seventeen year old! Little did I know that Silverside was also a socially disadvantaged area - but my explorations had never gone further than the coast and the beach. Well, obviously I was in just such a hot spot. The old rows of houses looked run down - most of the windows were smashed and some doors were almost completely ripped off their hinges. The street lamps were also broken and there were no lights on in any of the windows. I wondered how far I had walked, how many turns I had taken to get to a place like this. But the worst part was - which immediately stopped my tears and replaced the inner pain with a throbbing fear - I wasn't alone here. I wondered whether the best thing would be to take a few steps back unobtrusively to hide in one of the side streets, or to take shelter in the shade of a tree at the side of the street until Malio arrived or the three figures surrounding a Barrel with fire stood, looking for distance. If they did that at all - maybe they lived here too. Hard to imagine, but what did I know? I was still a student and had no idea about the seriousness of life, work, commitments and expenses. But even before I could decide on one of the two options, a few slurred words drifted towards me. "Honey, are you coming to us? Wait, wait, where are you going?" A deep, hoarse voice followed by a laugh. I saw them slowly detach themselves from the bin and come towards me. Damn. So much for sneaking away. I knew that the figures coming towards me was supposed to be a trigger to flee as quickly as possible, but I couldn't. As so often before, I was frozen in shock and unable to take a step forward, backward or to the side. I just watched as the three came towards me. Getting closer. More and more hopeless for me. Malio certainly wouldn't make it in time, I was on my own and the only weapon I had with me was my bunch of keys. It could have been worse for me because I knew how to use it, so I could repurpose it in a pinch. My mother showed me that too. When what turned out to be three men were only a few steps away from me, I slipped the key between my index and middle fingers. Always in the eye, always in the eye, I repeated my mother's words in my mind. In the eye... I didn't know if I could do that - just the thought made my stomach churn. Or else the nausea was triggered by the disgusting smell of the men that hit me now. The smell of old sweat, feces, and urine almost purred my throat. The closer they got, the clearer their outlines became. The hair matted with blood and dirt. The filthy clothes, whose trousers were more holes than fabric in some places. The emaciated faces, with the confused look in the collapsed eye sockets. bums or junkies. Whatever they were, guests like me didn't come around very often. I took a step back as they continued to come towards me. One of them, the tallest and broadest, with a shaggy mop of brown hair, loomed in front of me. He flashed me a smile that revealed his rotten teeth. The other men, one more shabby than the other, positioned themselves on either side of me - literally enclosing me and making escape impossible. "What's such a pretty girl doing here with us?" asked the tall, beefy man standing directly across from me. I breathed through my mouth, evenly and regularly, against the stench that poured out of his mouth with every word. "Get lost!" I managed somehow. To my own amazement, my voice was calm - I couldn't hear the inner panic and fear I was clearly feeling. "Get lost?" chuckled the strange man to my right , who wore a dirty brown wool cap over his bald head. "Our luck," exulted the one on the left, whose long, greasy hair was hanging straight down his head. It might have been blond at one time, but now it's shiny brown from sheer dirt and who knows what else. I didn't look at them - because I sensed that the real danger was the guy standing in front of me, still grinning. Did he sense my inner panic? I tightened my grip on the bunch of keys. Into the eyes, I reminded myself again of the target I must aim for if the ultimate were to come. Heart pounding, I watched my counterpart nod to the others. A command. Which I only realized when it was too late. Her spidery, skinny fingers wrapped themselves around my upper arms in a matter of seconds. I stifled the outcry that had already formed inside me and instead glared at the beefy man who also closed the last distance between us and got much too close to me. Its stench was unbearable. It immediately brought tears to my eyes and I fought the urge to vomit right here, at his feet. "Let me go!" I shook and tugged, but the two were surprisingly strong for their puny appearances. "Search their pockets!" The brown-haired man was still grinning as he watched me while his friends' free hands slipped into my pockets. Disgusted, I tried again to free myself from her clutches - again without success. Now tears of frustration welled up in my eyes. I felt so defenseless. "Shhh, shhh, shhh little one." I shuddered and my breathing quickened in panic as the beefy man wiped a tear from my cheek. His fat, smelly thumb ran down my cheek and rested on my lips. The grin on his face got even wider, even more obnoxious as he reached my bottom lip and brushed it down. "So nice and soft." I heard him murmur. Since I had given up all resistance, the other two men loosened their grip on my upper arms noticeably. Which gave me the necessary leeway to free my arm from the grip. I pushed without warning. A pained scream shattered the stillness of the night. ,, You bitch!" The falling fist hit me with such force that it knocked me off my feet. Flickering stars danced relentlessly in front of my inner eye. After a few seconds I won the fight against unconsciousness - although perhaps fainting would have been a better option. I tasted panic. Fear. Both had driven the taste of iron into my mouth. The taste of blood. The kick that hit my side knocked all the air out of my lungs. "Were you little whore about to stick your key in my eye?" The frown of the man with the shaggy brown hair who was obviously in charge loomed over my face. Both eyes were unharmed - I had missed my target. Only the long, bleeding wound on his cheek indicated that my attack was not entirely in vain. Another kick hit me. Much harder and more precise than the first. I gasped for breath, rattling, and this time I nearly lost the fight, almost fainting if I hadn't seen the bright cone of headlights at that moment. I heard a car door slam, rapid footsteps on the pavement, and a loud frantic scream. At first I thought it was my own, but the scream was different. fearful. more hysterical. I had never heard anything like this. "Sorry, man!", I heard the disgusting voice of the leader - but now it sounded almost tearful. "Kneel down! Everyone!", I recognized him immediately. Even now, with the menacing cold undertone. I sighed in relief. He was here. Malio was here. I got up panting. My ribs hurt terribly and I almost collapsed again from the pain. Somehow I made it. Managed to struggle to my feet to get a glimpse of what was happening in front of me - and almost knocked the rug out from under me again. It took me a few seconds, endless seconds it seemed, to understand the scenario before me. The big, beefy man who had kicked me a few seconds ago was now kneeling on the floor with his hands behind his head. He cried and begged. His face was pointed straight down the barrel of a black pistol. "Please, please don't," I heard him begging Malio. He begged for his life, but Malio didn't make a move. Nothing. His expressionless ice-blue eyes were on him, ready to pull the trigger at any moment. "Malio!" I took a step toward him, but stopped when I heard the click and he pressed the gun to the sobbing man's temple. "Get in the car, Jolien!" I heard Malio say without taking his eyes off. When one of the others moved, probably to flee, Malio knocked him to the ground with the gun. "Nobody goes here unless I want them to!" He pointed the gun at each one in turn to give his statement the necessary emphasis. "Please, we're sorry!" Cried the long-haired man. Malio laughed. So cold-hearted and merciless that it shook me for a moment. "I know exactly what you would have done if I hadn't come!" He angrily shook off the guy in the wool hat who was begging and crying and clutching one of his legs. "Get your dirty hands off me or you'll be the first one I put a bullet in! You bastards!” He swung again and brought the gun down hard on the man's head. The man sprawled on the ground, yelping. "Malio!" My voice alone was enough for his shoulders to relax for a moment. "Let's go please!" I spoke so quietly that I was afraid he wouldn't understand me at all. For a moment there was complete silence - even the three men seemed to have been holding their breath. I slowly approached Malio. He still had his back to me, never taking his eyes off the whimpering figures. I gently touched his shoulder. "Please, Malio!" "Why? You deserve it - you deserve death. If only I had come a few minutes later!" Again, he took turns aiming his pistol at each of the men kneeling on the ground. "Malio, please I'm fine - Please!" I felt tears running down my cheeks. I saw him hesitate for a moment before finally lowering the gun. "If I see you anywhere near her again - I will slowly and painfully kill each and every one of you, do you understand that?" "Yes..", all three said at the same time. I sighed with relief. Too soon, because the next moment a single shot broke the darkness. There was a shriek of agony as the bullet hit its target. I jumped back, startled. Saw the blood spreading on the asphalt. The blood of the man with the brown felt hair who was screaming and holding his hand. The hand through which a bullet had passed and now showed a gaping hole. Malio stepped forward and in a cold, menacing voice he said, "So you'll remember my words if you ever touch a woman against her will with those dirty hands again!" He put the gun away and turned, looking me straight in the eye. "I told you to get in the car!" When I again made no move to obey his instructions, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me behind him to the black Lamborghini, whose headlights bathed the events in an eerie light. I cast an anxious look over my shoulder one last time. Saw the guy in the penumbra, crouching in the middle of the street, staring at his bleeding hand. His screams followed us to the car - and I'm sure much further. I looked at Malio in disbelief, trying to read something on his face, but there was nothing to indicate that he regretted what he had just done. His expression was hard and opaque. Malio shoved me towards the passenger door and pushed me into the seat. As he walked around the car, I avoided looking through the windshield - not sure I could bear the sight another second. "Buckle up!" Malio said coldly after getting into the driver's seat only to pull out of the road with screeching tires. He left the three without batting an eyelid. For half an eternity we drove through streets that meant absolutely nothing to me - let alone seemed familiar. I didn't even remember crossing it on the way out. Nothing that passed us was in any way familiar to me. Also, it seemed like the memories of the last few hours were fading more and more from my memory. It was almost as if they were fading - losing color and reality. Until only a few scraps of memory could be called up. By now the night sky had cleared over us and after a while it had started to rain. I watched the steady movements of the windshield wipers, which desperately tried to counteract the huge amount of water that was falling inexorably from the sky. I shifted uncomfortably in the seat - trying to find a position that wasn't uncomfortable. Now that the panic and fear were slowly fading away, the pain came. Every breath burned. Sent little stitches through my battered ribs. I hadn't dared to look in the mirror until now, but I was sure my lower lip was split. Because I felt the slight but constant throbbing at the corner of my mouth – my head was also pounding, probably from the fall. For a moment I wondered if Malio would drive me to the local hospital? Wherever he was going, I prayed it was far enough away from my father. He was the last one I wanted to see now. "Malio?" I asked timidly, after the oppressive silence became too much and I couldn't stand another second of just sitting silently next to him. Nothing - he didn't answer me. In fact, he didn't react to me at all. No grumbling No twitching No sarcastic comment I got the feeling he didn't even blink. "Where are we going?" I tried again after a few seconds. But his gaze was still fixed on the road - as if he didn't hear me. My voice didn't get through to him at all. Even in this awful weather, Malio was speeding again—but I had stopped staring at the speedometer like a maniac. It wasn't even necessary anymore, because although I still hated high speeds, I felt safe with him. Kind of ironic. When so much danger emanated from him. But for me, Malio was just one thing: a safe place. "Malio, everything okay?" But when he didn't answer this question either, but just clenched his jaw, I got a bad feeling. Was he angry? I couldn't think of a reason. After all, I hadn't told him to shoot the guy in the hand or generally rush to my rescue with a pistol. My eyes fell on the gun still lying on his lap. I remembered how routinely he had handled her. How many times had he shot people? How many didn't get off so lightly? Although mild was probably the wrong word here. After all, the man's hand function would be permanently damaged - of that I was sure. Criminal organization, my father's words came back to me. Mafia, I thought. I let my eyes dart back and forth between him and the gun again. Over and over again. I knew I should be afraid of him... "Malio? I asked again, but this time a bit more carefully. I wanted him to say something and not let it stand unspoken between us. But instead of answering, he stopped the car on a cliff edge. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that it wasn't around any cliff edge - for the cliff seemed familiar to me. We had both been here before. It was the same cliff I've been balancing on in the abyss. What was he doing here? Why did he stop? Middle of the night? I looked at Malio in surprise. "Why are we stopping?" I was beginning to fear he might throw me out of the car again - as unpredictable as he was. Who knows what was going on in that head. It surprised me all the more that I wasn't the one who got out of the car - he was. He charged toward the cliff, pistol in hand. I pushed open the passenger door, horrified, but it was too late—Malio had already reached the cliffs. Cursing, he threw the weapon in a high arc over the cliff, straight into the raging sea. Roared out all the frustration, all the anger that seemed to be raging inside him. Irritated and a bit surprised, I didn't really know how to interpret the situation. Should I wait here and hope he would calm down? Or did I have to go to him and say something? Damned. I was torn because I actually had enough for one evening. Didn't want to risk another escalating situation with Malio, but my helper syndrome literally forced me to put my hand on the door handle to pull myself out of the car - because I wouldn't have been able to do it completely on my own. It was only seconds before I was soaked through and the cold was tugging at my hair and clothes. The wind whipped at me and I pulled the thin wool of my cardigan tighter around my body. It was the only jacket I wore over the thin lace bodysuit. Of course, when I spontaneously escaped from the kitchen, I hadn't thought of the thicker jacket hanging from the hall wardrobe. I slowly approached Malio, who had started angrily kicking some pebbles off the cliff while running his fingers through his wet hair. This sight was so surreal - so disturbing that I was almost afraid to speak to him. "Malio?" I whispered. At the risk of not being able to defuse the ticking bomb, I took another step towards him. "Fuck!" he yelled angrily and again a few rocks found their way into the deep, dark waves. "I'm sorry!" I apologized intuitively. For what actually? I had no idea - just a feeling that his sudden outburst of emotion was closely related to mine. He spun around and looked at me with a confused expression. "Why are you apologizing?" "If I hadn't called you..." "...the guy wouldn't have a hole in his hand now, but in his head!" he finished my sentence and took a step in my direction. I noticed the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He was beside himself. I opened my mouth, but before I could reply, he cut me off with a single sentence. Six words of pain. "Jolien, I'm a bad person." He had reduced the distance between us in a few steps, almost completely eliminated it. If I stretched out my hand, I could have touched him. "I saw red. Fuck - I broke everything." In a millisecond he had also taken the last small step to close the small, but still existing distance between our bodies. He wrapped his trembling, cold hands around my face. "You should never have seen that. Please don't hate me for who I am, Jolien. ", I heard the desperation in his voice. I saw the fear in his ice blue eyes. And I understood that it was his only concern. The reason for all this. He was afraid I would hate him. I felt the hot tears running down my icy cheeks, mixing with the rain on my face. "Would you have killed him if I hadn't been there?" Silence. An unbearable silence lay between us until he broke it. "Yes..." he finally said in a voice that left no doubt as to his answer. He meant it. His blue eyes darted across my face, almost desperately searching for a reaction that would take away his fear, everything to have ruined. And while his testimony should have shaken me, it didn't. Because I had known it for a long time. Maybe I was stupid, naive, or just plain crazy - but it didn't change how I felt about him. I brushed Malio's wet hair out of his face and looked him straight in the eyes. There was something vulnerable in them, which gave me the last courage to say the following words out loud. "You can tell me about all the bad things you've done Malio. And it wouldn't change how I feel about you." It was the first time. The first time I said it out loud. Expressed having feelings for him.