8,99 €
Niedrigster Preis in 30 Tagen: 8,99 €
Niedrigster Preis in 30 Tagen: 8,99 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: FINN Books Edition FireFly
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
Five moving stories tell of young people who, amidst pain, exclusion and unbearable stress, seek their own path - and find the strength to face their fears and inner demons. Svantje, trapped in a world full of silence, allows a glimpse into her wounded soul when she meets Daryl. But their growing affection hides a shocking secret. Sam, an untamed daredevil, struggles with his feelings for Leonie and the dark world that he wants to hide from her at all costs. Ellis, lost in loneliness, finds comfort in an imaginary friend - until he meets a girl who changes his life forever. Laurina, amid violence and religious intolerance, discovers hope in a classmate whose secret could put everything at risk. And Annika, who retreats into a fantasy world, has to decide whether to face her inner shadow or lose her last refuge. Each story is a powerful look at the strength and fragility of the human soul – and a testament that hope exists even in the darkest moments.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Ähnliche
Elias J. Connor
The voices in the silence
Inhaltsverzeichnis
BOOK 1
Chapter 1 - New Beginnings in Brookstraße
Chapter 2 - The Playground Behind the House
Chapter 3 - The First Word
Chapter 4 - In Prison
Chapter 5 - Secret Meeting
Chapter 6 - Prohibitions
Chapter 7 - Do you want to come to my party?
Chapter 8 - The Sound of the Sad Soul
Chapter 9 - Separation
Chapter 10 - Is all lost?
Chapter 11 - The Escape
Chapter 12 - The Intervention of the Youth Welfare Office
Chapter 13 - Help me, somebody
Chapter 14 - Daryl's Family
Chapter 15 - The Official Confrontation
Chapter 16 - Revelations
Chapter 17 - Daryl's worries about Svantje
Chapter 18 - A Desperate Escape
Chapter 19 - The Mother's Indifference
Chapter 20 - Alone in the midst of people
Chapter 21 - The Act of Desperation
Chapter 22 - The Voices of the Angels
Chapter 23 - The One True Family
Help for children affected by domestic violence
BOOK 2
disclaimer
Chapter 1 - Night at the Bridge
Chapter 2 - The Expulsion
Chapter 3 - The Lonely Girl
Chapter 4 - The Osteria
Chapter 5 - p. 11
Chapter 6 - Escape to Luxembourg
Chapter 7 - You will never be forgotten
Chapter 8 - The Rivals
Chapter 9 - We're running away again
Chapter 10 - The End of the 124
Chapter 11 - True Love
Chapter 12 - Leaving Home
Chapter 13 - The Competition
Chapter 14 - Far, Far Away
Chapter 15 - Alone in the Distance
Chapter 16 - Sam's New Life
Chapter 17 - To Hell With You
Chapter 18 - Leonie's Visit
Chapter 19 - I won't leave you alone
BOOK 3
Chapter 1 - Dream or Reality?
Chapter 2 - Ellis's Birthday
Chapter 3 - At the Swimming Pool
Chapter 4 - The bad grade in German
Chapter 5 - The Night Elsewhere
Chapter 6 - Why do you have to go, Natalie?
Chapter 7 - Karen's Friends
Chapter 8 - Cereon
Chapter 9 - Is Natalie really there?
Chapter 10 - Humiliated
Chapter 11 - Fall Break
Chapter 12 - Natalie speaks again
Chapter 13 - The Secret Clan
Chapter 14 - The Escape
Chapter 15 - War in House Cereon
Chapter 16 - Winners and Losers
Chapter 17 - The first words after a long time
Chapter 18 - At Natalie's House
Chapter 19 - Back to Cereon
Chapter 20 - Burn, Diary, Burn
Chapter 21 - Christmas in Miami
Chapter 22 - We'll Be Friends Forever
Chapter 23 - The first nightmare after 2 years
Chapter 24 - The Youth Center
Chapter 25 - The Song of the Fairies
Chapter 26 - As Dark as Night
Chapter 27 - The Boss of the Cool Clique
Chapter 28 - Images from the Past
Chapter 29 - Intimacy
Chapter 30 - Natalie's Vow
Chapter 31 - Will she die?
Chapter 32 - Against the Current
Chapter 33 - Where is Natalie?
Chapter 34 - The memory of the exchange students
Chapter 35 - As far as the wings carry you
Chapter 36 - Nadja's Words
Chapter 37 - Ellis and Nadja
Chapter 38 - Natalie's Confession
Chapter 39 - Again Images from the Past
Chapter 40 - Don't you want to live anymore?
Chapter 41 - Back at Home Cereon
Chapter 42 - New Beginning in Another City
BOOK 4
Chapter 1 – Is winter so cold
Chapter 2 – New School
Chapter 3 – Through the Night
Chapter 4 - Hostilities
Chapter 5 - Angelina
Chapter 6 – Dark Night
Chapter 7 – Back in the Ghetto
Chapter 8 – The Attack
Chapter 9 - Running Away
Chapter 10 – The Prison
Chapter 11 - Marketplace
Chapter 12 – The Walls of Fall Creek
Chapter 13 – Search in Belfast
Chapter 14 – Sandy is back
Chapter 15 – Back at Amgelina
Chapter 16 – Running away again
Chapter 17 – John, who are you?
Chapter 18 – Forgive me
Chapter 19 – The Road to Hamsdale
Chapter 20 – Saint Cedric
Chapter 21 – Laurina's Prayer
Chapter 22 – Dear Santa Claus
BOOK 5
Chapter 1 - The Child in the Mirror
Chapter 2 - Who's Afraid of the Black Man?
Chapter 3 - Without a Word
Chapter 4 - The Psychologist
Chapter 5 - Sad Christmas
Chapter 6 - The First Day
Chapter 7 - Escape from Fairytale Land
Chapter 8 - Beyond the Borders
Chapter 9 - I can hear you
Chapter 10 - Jane
Chapter 11 - Laurin's Silent Scream
Chapter 12 - The Words You Say
Chapter 13 - Distorted Reality
Chapter 14 - Deaf, blind and mute
Chapter 15 - Deep Trust
Chapter 16 - Laurin's repressed memories
Chapter 17 - Harry Must Go
Chapter 18 - Secret Meeting
Chapter 19 - The Trip to the Amusement Park
Chapter 20 - He loves me, he loves me not
Chapter 21 - Deep Silence
Chapter 22 - The End of a Friendship
Chapter 23 - Lena dies
Chapter 24 - Father
Chapter 25 - The Stone of the Old House
Chapter 26 - Because we hear your voice
About the author Elias J. Connor
Impressum
BOOK 1
SVANTJE – SCREAM IN THE DARKNESS
Chapter 1 - New Beginnings in Brookstraße
The large apartment building, a prefabricated building from the 1970s, stands heavy and grey in the middle of an endless concrete desert. Its angular facades tower high into the sky and cast long shadows on the dreary parking lot in front of it. The sun struggles to fight its way through the clouds and casts isolated, pale rays onto the building, making the concrete shine in a pale light.
The grey facade of the high-rise looks as if it has already experienced countless years of fate. Large, concrete balconies stretch across the entire width of the building and are a testament to a time when people thought they could brighten up the grey of the city with a few potted plants. But most of these balconies are now deserted, their flower boxes have long since faded, and only a few residents still have the will to look after their little green oases.
The windows of the apartment building are rectangular and sober. They reflect the sky, which on this day is a heavy grey. Here and there hang curtains that are either drawn to hide the view of the dreariness of the outside world, or that shine in faded floral patterns and washed-out colours, as if they were decades old.
The entrance area of the prefabricated building is plain and functional. A large double door made of wood, metal and glass leads into the building. Above the door is a faded sign reading "Wohnpark Brookstraße". The sign seems like a bad joke considering that the sun rarely shows its face in this place. On either side of the door are a few mailboxes, several of which are covered in notes. The names on the notes are usually barely legible and it seems as if the residents no longer bother to pick up their mail.
The floor in the entrance area is made of worn linoleum, which was probably fashionable in the 1970s, but today it just looks dull and stained. A moderately successful attempt to brighten up the room is a few artificial plants in bright colors, placed in tall pots. Their leaves are dusty and the green has long since faded.
A large, dingy carpet leads further into the interior of the apartment building. It is covered in various stains and footprints that have told their stories over the years. At the edge of the carpet are worn-out shoe cabinets where the residents store their shoes. Here and there, jackets and coats hang on the hooks as if their owners might put them back on at any moment to go out.
Old, yellowed photographs hang on the walls, showing scenes from times long past. Groups of people in 70s clothing, smiling happily into the camera as if the world had still been in order back then. But the faces in the photos have long since aged, and the joy has given way to a tired smile.
The hallway stretches endlessly into the depths of the building. Here and there, doors lead to the residents' apartments. The doors are all designed differently, some freshly painted and with new doorbell plates, others weathered and marked by years of wear and tear. Some doors are decorated with children's drawings, others with handwritten notes saying "Please do not ring the bell!"
The hallway is silent, filled with the thoughts of its residents. There is hardly a sound, apart from the occasional squeak of a door or the hum of an elevator slowly moving up or down. But beneath this silence there is a melancholy that permeates the atmosphere of the apartment building.
Some of the residents have been living here on Brookstrasse in Frechen for decades, have raised their children and grown old here. Others have recently moved in, looking for affordable accommodation in the big city. They all share a part of their lives with this prefabricated building, this grey colossus.
The large apartment building may appear dreary and forbidding on the outside, but it hides stories and life within its grey walls. It is a place where time seems to stand still, while the lives of the residents continue unabated. In the narrow corridors and the plain apartments, dreams are dreamed, stories are written and destinies lived. And so the prefabricated building remains not just a building made of concrete and steel, but a place where life in all its facets has found its place.
Svantje slips quietly out of the old wooden door of the large apartment building and steps out onto the street. She glances left and right before looking around shyly. The hustle and bustle of the city around her seems to overwhelm her and she withdraws even further into herself. Her petite figure seems lost between the tall buildings and the constant stream of pedestrians streaming past her.
Svantje carefully sits down on a lonely bench by the side of the road. Her gaze is lowered and her blonde hair falls in messy strands over her face. She pulls her legs close to her body, as if this small gesture could hide her from the world outside. Svantje is only eleven years old, but she carries the weight of the world on her narrow shoulders.
Her mother, a disinterested woman, hardly has any time for her. When she is not at work, she buries herself in her own worries and problems. Svantje misses the security and warmth that other children get from their parents. Her mother is overwhelmed and burned out, and Svantje often feels like an annoying disruptive factor in her life.
Sadness has taken root in Svantje's heart and she feels lonely, even when she is surrounded by people. She longs for someone who will listen to her, who will take her worries seriously and give her security. But so far she has not found anyone who takes the time to get to know her.
Svantje stares at the floor in front of her and sinks into her thoughts. She thinks of school, where she always tries to be quiet and inconspicuous. The other children laugh and play with each other while she stands on the sidelines. She is too shy to approach them and has learned to retreat into her own little world.
Her mother taught her to be strong and to hide her feelings, but sometimes loneliness hits her like a wave. Svantje longs for a friend, for someone who will accept her as she is. But so far she has been too shy to approach others, and the other children hardly seem to notice her.
People on the street rush past Svantje without paying her any attention. She is like a shadow in the crowd, almost invisible. The city lives its own life, and Svantje feels cut off from this world. It is as if she does not exist at all, as if she is trapped in a bubble of invisibility.
Svantje closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She tries to suppress the sadness and loneliness inside her, but it is difficult. The tears burn in her eyes, but she fights to keep them from coming out. She is so used to being strong that she cannot allow herself to appear weak.
Her gaze wanders to the people hurrying past her. She observes the happy faces, the lively conversations and the hands that touch each other lovingly. Svantje wishes to be a part of this world, a part of something bigger than herself.
But she doesn't know how to take this step. The fear of rejection is too great, and so she stays sitting on her bench, alone and invisible. Svantje longs for connection and a better life, but the path to it seems rocky and difficult.
Time passes and the city pulsates around her. Svantje sits quietly on her bench, trapped in her own world. She knows that she has to be strong, that she must not give up, but sometimes she feels so lost and helpless.
Maybe one day someone will notice her loneliness, maybe someone will come up to her and offer her a hand. Until then, she will continue to sit quietly and reservedly on her bench, an invisible girl in a busy city.
As it gets dark, Svantje sadly enters the large apartment building and walks purposefully to her apartment. Dusk falls heavily over the small town and the street lights begin to timidly emerge. Svantje enters her apartment, a place that normally represents comfort and security, but today there is something melancholy in the air.
The hallway awaits her with an innocent cage in which a small rabbit sits, curiously looking out into the world with his watchful eyes. But a quick glance at the empty food bowls tells Svantje that he hasn't been fed yet. She sighs quietly and feels guilty that in her rush before school she forgot to take care of her furry friend.
Just as she is about to fill the rabbit bowl with fresh food, her mother's heavy footsteps are heard in the hallway. Her mother, overwhelmed and irritated by a long day at work, storms into the apartment. Svantje flinches and turns to her mother, her heart pounding wildly with fear.
"Why hasn't the rabbit been fed yet?" her mother cries, without a greeting or a smile. The words cut through the silence of the room like sharp knives.
Svantje stammers apologetically: "I'm sorry, Mom. I was just outside for a moment to get some fresh air and then I forgot."
Her mother rolls her eyes and snorts before she starts feeding the hungry rabbit. But the anger inside her continues to simmer. She handles the food and water bowl with impatient movements while she takes out her anger on the little animal.
"You can't even do a simple task. You always forget everything. You're so useless, Svantje!"
Her mother raises her head, her eyes glowing with anger. Her voice drowns out the soft splashing of the rabbit as it drinks.
"Why do I do everything for you?" complains the mother. "Why do I work myself to death every damn day?"
Svantje feels small and vulnerable. Tears gather in her eyes, but she bites her lips and refuses to cry in front of her mother. She doesn't want any more trouble.
The mother gives the rabbit one last blow on the head and turns to her daughter.
"You just sit here and do nothing, like you spend all day moping around. You're so lazy. Can't you do something sensible at least once in your life?"
Svantje wants to defend herself, but her voice fails her. She lowers her gaze to the ground and wishes she were invisible.
"Come here and get that rattle from the nursery," the mother orders harshly. "So that the rabbit doesn't just fidget around all evening."
Svantje obeys silently, almost like a robot who has no other choice. She runs into the nursery and finds the rattle she loved as a little girl. She can still hear the ringing laughter she and her mother shared when they played with it. But nothing is the same today.
With shaking hands she returns to the living room and hands the rattle to her mother. Her mother takes it without a word of thanks and casts a disapproving look at her daughter.
"Now go to your room and don't cause any more trouble," she hisses. "If you're not capable of acting sensibly, then just stay there."
Svantje nods, although she would have liked to rebel against the injustice. But she has learned that in such moments it is better to lower her head and obey. She turns around and makes her way to her small room.
The door closes quietly behind her and she sinks down onto her bed. Tears stream down her cheeks and she wishes she could escape the world. The rabbit in its cage and the rattle in her mother's hand are the only witnesses to her silent suffering.
The hours pass while Svantje sits alone in her room. Her mother's voice comes through the door, muffled but still haunting, while she argues with a friend on the phone. Svantje would give anything to see her mother happy, but she doesn't know how to change that.
Eventually the house becomes quiet and Svantje hears her mother going to bed. The evening is now as dark as her mood. She lies down under the covers and sobs quietly into her pillow.
At some point she falls asleep and in her dream she finds herself in a world where she can fly. In this world she is brave, strong and free. But the dream ends far too soon and Svantje wakes up in the darkness of her room.
The pain in her heart is still present, but she knows she has to carry on. Svantje wipes the tears from her eyes and thinks of the little rabbit in the hallway. She knows she has to take care of him, no matter how hard it is.
Quietly and carefully she gets up, opens the door to her room and goes into the hallway. The rabbit is sleeping peacefully in its cage. Svantje smiles as she looks at him. She resolves to always be there for him, even when no one seems to be there for her.
Chapter 2 - The Playground Behind the House
Behind the large apartment building on Brook Street is a small playground. This green spot in the middle of the urban concrete landscape is surrounded by tall trees that provide dense shade in the summer. A wire fence borders the area, and overflowing trash cans are strategically placed at the corners of the playground, their smells testifying to past adventures and picnics.
A mild spring afternoon envelops the playground in a warm atmosphere. A few children have found their way here and are deeply engrossed in their play. A little girl swings high in the sky, her laughter mingling with the chirping of birds. Next to her, a boy sits in the sandpit, his eyes shining with the joy of discovery as he tries to build the biggest sandcastle tower the world has ever seen.
In the corner of the playground, two girls have taken over one of the shady corners. They are playing skipping rope and singing a happy song. The sound of the ropes hitting the ground forms the rhythm to which they hop, as if they are trapped in a world of their own, made up of nothing but bliss.
The scenery may seem dreary at first glance, and the old, rusty swings and weathered slides are no longer the most modern. But for the children who play here, the playground is a refuge, a little paradise in the middle of the urban chaos. Here they forget the worries and troubles of everyday life, they immerse themselves in a world of fantasy and lightheartedness.
A group of boys are having fun on the basketball court. Their loud laughter and the resounding sound of the ball hitting the ground combine to create a happy chaos. One of the boys skilfully dribbles around the others and throws the ball into the basket. A storm of cheers breaks out when the ball hits its target.
The parents who live in the surrounding apartments watch the hustle and bustle on the playground with a smile. They know that this place is invaluable for their children. Here they learn not only how to live together, but also the values of creativity, perseverance and teamwork.
An elderly man sits in one of the shady tree hollows. His grey hair blows in the wind as he quietly observes the scene. He has the expression of someone who remembers times gone by when he himself played here on this playground. The memories of all the adventures he had with his friends bring a smile to his face.
A little girl who has broken away from the group of rope jumpers approaches the old man. Her name is Emma and she is only five years old. She looks at the stranger with big, curious eyes and finally speaks to him.
“Why are you sitting here alone, Grandpa?” she asks innocently.
The old man smiles down and takes Emma on his lap.
"Well, little girl, I'm sitting here remembering the old days when I used to play here myself. This playground was my second home, and I had so many adventures here."
Emma looks around and nods understandingly.
"I love this playground. There is so much fun to be had here!"
The old man nods and tells Emma about his adventures in this playground. He tells her about the secret hiding places, the treasure hunts and the stories they told under the starry sky.
Emma listens intently and asks many questions, which the old man answers patiently.
While the two are chatting, a group of children approaches who have seen Emma's conversation with the old man. Curious, they sit around the two and listen to the old man's stories.
The sun is slowly sinking towards the horizon and the mood on the playground is becoming calmer. The children have had enough of running around and playing and are now enchanted by the old man's stories. The memories of times gone by mix with the children's dreams of future adventures.
This afternoon, the playground on Brookstrasse is more than just a place to play. It is a place of memories, stories and dreams. A place where the past meets the present and the future lights up in the eyes of children. It is a place that shows that even in the midst of big city life, with all its dreariness, the joy, fantasy and carefreeness of childhood can find a place.
No one has noticed the young, blonde girl sitting thoughtfully and alone on the adjacent bench. She looks sadly at the people around her, at the old man who is telling the children stories.
Svantje sits alone on the bench at the playground. The last rays of sun of the day caress her cheek as she watches the children playing. A light breeze blows through her shoulder-length, blond hair when she notices a boy of about twelve who keeps turning to look at her.
His dark eyes fixate on her, and a shy smile plays around his lips.
The boy takes the first step and slowly approaches Svantje.
"Hey, you're in my class," he says when he finally stands in front of her. Svantje nods and looks at him in silence. The words seem to be stuck in her throat, unable to find their way out.
The boy sits down next to her and looks at her curiously.
"Why haven't you ever said a word?" he asks with a hint of surprise in his voice. Svantje just shrugs her shoulders and turns her gaze back to the children playing.
The boy doesn't give up easily.
"I'm Daryl, by the way," he says. "I don't live here, but I've been visiting my friends here for a while. We've been in the same classes for years."
He tries to start a conversation.
Svantje looks at him and seems to consider for a moment whether to answer. Finally, she raises a hand and points to herself, as if to say that she lives here too.
Daryl nods understandingly.
"That's interesting," he says. "I've never seen you here before, but maybe I've just never been to the playground at the right time."
He tries to lighten the atmosphere and continues his story.
"I like playing basketball. That's my thing, you know? I dream of becoming a successful athlete one day."
Svantje follows his words carefully, her eyes full of interest, even though she hasn't made a sound herself. Her silence doesn't seem to bother Daryl. He continues: "It's so exciting when you're on the field and you throw the ball into the basket. You should try it if you want."
The sun is sinking towards the horizon and the shadows are getting longer. Svantje watches the colorful sky while Daryl continues his story.
"The evenings here in the residential park are often the most beautiful. I often sit on this bench, play the guitar and sing. That calms me down, you understand?"
He looks at Svantje expectantly.
Again, Svantje remains silent, but a small smile crosses her face. She nods slightly, as if she understands Daryl and appreciates his words. The communication takes place on another level, one that goes beyond words.
Daryl senses that she is comfortable and sits closer to her.
"It's okay if you don't speak. But we can meet again here on the bench tomorrow. Then I'll tell you more stories. Or I'll bring my guitar and play some music."
The two remain silent for a while, enjoying the last moments of the day on the bench at the playground. As darkness slowly falls and the lanterns light up the park, Daryl stands up.
"I should go home soon. It's getting late and the children have to go to their apartments," he says.
Svantje looks at Daryl and nods slowly. She also stands up and accompanies him a little way until they are standing in front of the large entrance door of the concrete building. Daryl stops and smiles at her.
“See you tomorrow,” he says expectantly.
Then he turns around and leaves.
Svantje watches him disappear and feels understood and accepted for the first time in a long time. She looks forward to tomorrow and to listening to Daryl's stories and maybe even his music. And who knows, maybe one day she will find the words to speak herself.
Quietly and silently, Svantje goes into her apartment. Her mother is not there yet, so Svantje hides in her room. She turns on the radio and listens to quiet music while she lies down on the bed and thinks back to the events of the day.
Svantje hasn't eaten anything today. Her stomach is growling quietly, but she can't go out to get something. Her mother hasn't been home all day, so Svantje stays in her small apartment, locked away from the world outside. It was a sunny day today, but for Svantje it feels gloomy.
Time passes slowly and Svantje passes the hours reading and watching TV. But she can't get rid of the thoughts of the empty refrigerator shelf. Her mother had promised to come back in time to eat together, but there is no sign of that. Svantje is worried and feels lonely.
When the sun has long since disappeared behind the houses and darkness is falling, she finally hears the sound of keys in the door. Her mother is back. Svantje pretends to be sleeping in her bed, her eyes closed and her breathing calm. She doesn't want to blame her mother, doesn't want her to see how hungry and hurt she is.
The mother quietly enters the room, the radio blaring quietly. She goes to the dresser, turns off the radio and sits briefly on Svantje's bed. She gently strokes her daughter's forehead and whispers: "I'm sorry I came home so late, honey. How was your day?"
Svantje is completely baffled. She is not used to this kind of behaviour from her mother. There must be something wrong here, she thinks to herself. Normally her mother is very irritable and takes out all her bad mood on her. But today? Today she is so friendly. Why?
Svantje slowly opens her eyes and smiles weakly.
“It was okay, Mom,” she replies, even though she longs for a hot meal.
Her mother kisses her on the forehead and stands up.
"I brought visitors today. I hope you don't mind," she says.
So that's where the wind is blowing from, Svantje thinks to herself. Her mother has once again brought a strange man here who is not supposed to know anything about how things normally go here.
Svantje nods weakly and then turns to the side again. She pulls her blanket tighter over herself, as if she wanted to protect herself from the coldness of her mother's heart.
The mother smiles and leaves the room. Svantje hears her making noises in the kitchen and finally hears voices from outside. It is a strange man's voice that she hears. Again, her mother has brought a stranger with her, Svantje thinks to herself. It really gets on her nerves that her mother spends more time with strange men than looking after Svantje. She feels neglected and left alone.
The hours drag on and Svantje hears the loud laughter and conversations of her mother and her visitors. She lies alone in her room, hungry in her stomach and sadness in her heart. It feels as if her mother has forgotten her.
Svantje no longer feels important. In fact, she has never felt important in her entire life.
Tears stream down Svantje's face as she curls up in her bed. She buries her face in the pillow to stifle the sobs. She misses the times when her mother spent even more time with her, when she was able to talk to her and comfort her. But those times seem to be over.
At some point the living room becomes quiet and Svantje hears her mother and the visitor go into the bedroom. The door closes quietly. Svantje is alone in the darkness. Her stomach hurts from hunger and the sadness inside her seems endless. She cannot understand why her mother spends so much time with this strange man and neglects her.
Eventually exhaustion overcomes her and Svantje falls asleep. Her tears have long since dried, but the emptiness in her heart remains. She dreams of better times, of times when her mother was there for her and she felt loved.
As the new day dawns, Svantje is awakened by the rays of sunlight shining through the window. She remembers the events of the previous night and wonders if anything will change. Her mother has already got up and left the bedroom, and the strange man has disappeared. Svantje feels alone and hungry, but she knows that she will continue to wait for her mother, hoping that something will change, that her mother will have more time for her again and that she will no longer feel neglected.
Chapter 3 - The First Word
Svantje sits in her classroom, her heart pounding so loudly in her chest that she thinks the other students can hear it. Mrs. Johnson, her English teacher, hands out the tests.
"So, sixth grade, today you're getting your English homework again," says the teacher. "I'm very happy with your results. With a few exceptions, the class did well."
Mrs. Johnson, a native Englishwoman, speaks in her accent and calls out the names one by one.
When she arrives at Svantje’s, she silently places the worksheet on her desk.
Svantje closes her eyes and breathes deeply as she holds the sheet of paper with her grade in her hands. Her heart races as she opens her eyes and stares at the big, fat "5". A five.
Panic creeps up inside Svantje and she can feel the tears burning in her eyes. She has studied so hard for this test, spent hours agonizing over vocabulary and grammar, and now this. Her eyes wander around and she sees the other students examining their tests. Most of them have better grades than her, some even have an A.
Svantje lowers her head and sinks into her chair. How will she tell her mother? Her mother has always had high expectations of her, always said that good grades are important. Svantje can already imagine how her mother will react when she finds out about this F. She will probably scream and scold, like the last time Svantje brought home a C.
She can see the picture in front of her: her mother will be disappointed and call her a failure.
The rest of the school day passes in a blur. Svantje can't concentrate on the lessons, she just stares at her test and feels miserable. When school is finally over, she sneaks out of the building without speaking to anyone. She doesn't have the courage to face her classmates, not now.
Instead, she wanders aimlessly through the streets, the test still in her hand. She knows she should go home, but she just can't. The fear of what her mother will say is overwhelming. So she decides to head to the nearby playground, which seems deserted at the moment.
When she reaches the playground, she notices that the swings are empty and the children who usually play there have already gone home. Svantje looks for a secluded corner, behind the bushes, where she hopes she won't be discovered. She sinks to the ground and stares at the test in her hands.
The sun is low in the sky and the world around her is slowly beginning to be bathed in a warm evening light. Svantje feels as if she is in another world, a world where no one can judge her. She thinks about how she can escape her mother, how she can avoid the anger and disappointment that awaits her.
The minutes pass and Svantje ponders the different excuses she could use. Maybe she could say that the teacher graded the test wrong, or that she wasn't feeling well and therefore couldn't do her best. But she knows her mother would see through that.
Svantje sits there quietly and cries to herself.
It is getting darker outside and the playground is becoming quieter. Svantje feels hunger in her stomach, but she cannot go home. The thought of how her mother will react to her paralyzes her. She wonders how she can spend the night in this corner of the playground without anyone looking for her.
Her mind wanders and she remembers when she was a little girl. Back then, she could always share her problems with her mother and her mother would hug her and comfort her. But recently, her mother has changed. She is stressed from work and financial worries. Svantje feels like she can no longer get through to her.
Suddenly Svantje hears a rustling in the bush. She jumps in shock.
“Svantje? Are you there?” a boy’s voice calls.
Svantje doesn't respond.
“Svantje,” the boy calls again.
Svantje's whole body is shaking. Who is this boy and why is he looking for her? Svantje's heart is racing like the beating of a hummingbird's wings. She clings closer to the bush and tries to wrap some branches around herself, almost so that she becomes one with the bush. Invisible and untraceable.
"Here you are," the boy's voice suddenly says as he stands before her, amazed. He is holding a guitar in his hand. His dark curls are blowing in the wind, and he deftly brushes a strand of hair from his face. His look is worried, but at the same time relieved that he has found Svantje.
Svantje looks around carefully, then she quietly comes out of the bush and looks into the eyes of Daryl, the boy from her class whom she recently met here on the playground.
"Please don't tell anyone that I'm here," she dares to say. Her voice is quiet and broken, and you can still hear her shaking.
"I was looking for you this afternoon," Daryl explains. "You suddenly disappeared after school. What happened?"
Svantje just shrugs her shoulders.
“How do you know my name?” Svantje wants to know.
The boy giggles slightly.
"A classmate told me," he says with a smile. "I didn't let up. I wanted to know your name."
Svantje looks at the boy seriously.
“My name is Svantje,” Svantje says to him.
"Hello, Svantje," Daryl replies kindly. "Shall we sit on the bench for a while?"
Svantje nods hesitantly. Then she and Daryl go to the secluded bench at the playground. Now that the sun has almost set, it is very empty here and the chance that he and Svantje will be seen by anyone is very small. Svantje feels unsafe, but she follows the boy.
On the bench, Daryl sits close to Svantje, making sure to keep a certain distance from her, because Daryl suspects that Svantje has difficulty allowing closeness.
“I’ll sing you a song,” Daryl says after a few minutes.
Then he takes his guitar and sings a happy but also somewhat melancholic song. Svantje listens to him enthusiastically. When he's finished, she slides a little closer to him.
“That was very nice, Daryl,” she says quietly.
Daryl nods and looks at Svantje proudly and gratefully.
“Thank you for your praise,” he whispers.
Svantje looks down at the ground, thoughtful and sad. Daryl immediately notices that she is not feeling well and carefully puts an arm around her shoulder.
“Svantje, if you have anything, any problem, please feel free to tell me,” he tries to comfort her.
Svantje looks at him frightened.
"Really," says Daryl. "You can trust me."
Svantje exhales deeply.
"I got a 5 in English," she reports quietly. "My mother will go crazy when she finds out."
“Is that why you didn’t dare go home?” asks Daryl.
Svantje nods.
“I learned so much and wanted to do my best,” she whispers.
"But if you get a bad grade once, it's not a big deal," Daryl replies. "Then it will be better next time."
Svantje breathes out thoughtfully. Her hair falls into her face and she wipes it from her sweat-soaked forehead.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Daryl says sympathetically.
He gently strokes Svantje's shoulder. When she allows this, he continues and slides a little closer to her.
Daryl gathers all his courage.
“Do you want us to be friends?” he then asks.
Almost imperceptibly, Svantje nods.
"I want that too," says Daryl, smiling. His look is joyful and expectant. And Svantje is visibly happy at this moment to have found a dear friend.
Svantje and he sit at the playground for minutes. They are silent and enjoy the precious moment of this new friendship. It is a completely new feeling for Svantje to feel so cared for and understood. She would love to stay here all night. But unfortunately that is not possible.
"Unfortunately, I have to go home now," says Daryl as he stands up. "You should go home too. It can be a bit dangerous here at night, you never know who's walking around."
Svantje nods at him. Daryl waves to her again, then slowly walks towards the road that leads to the nearby settlement.
Svantje is left alone on the bench and buries herself in her thoughts. She is still afraid - afraid of her mother's reaction, afraid of the discussion and the arguments that might follow. Svantje is simply afraid.
Eventually it gets too dark to stay in the playground. Svantje hesitantly gets up and slowly walks towards her parents' house. Her heart is still beating fast as she crosses the street and opens the front door. She enters the apartment and hears her mother's voice from the living room. She is arguing loudly with someone on the phone.
Svantje stands in the doorway and listens. Her mother is too busy talking to notice her. Svantje hesitates, then puts the test on the kitchen table and goes quietly into her room. She closes the door behind her and sits down on her bed.
Her thoughts are still on the F on the test. She knows that sooner or later she will have to face her mother. But for now she feels safe in her room. She wishes she could just stay here forever and escape the consequences. But she knows that is not a solution.
Svantje is lying on her bed, lost in thought, when suddenly the door to her room is thrown open. Her mother comes into her room, furious and angry, and looks at Svantje with a look that shakes her to the core.
"Is that your test that was lying there on the kitchen table?" she says in a deep voice. She is holding Svantje's English paper in her hand.
“I... I...” Svantje sobs fearfully.
"Where have you been all afternoon?" the mother asks sternly. "Where the hell have you been? Have you been hiding from me?"
Svantje wipes a small tear from her eyes. She knows how upset her mother gets when Svantje doesn't do what she says.
“I asked you where you were this afternoon,” the mother shouts at her daughter.
“I was outside,” says Svantje, wrapping both arms protectively around herself, as if she was almost expecting what was about to happen.
"You're not doing anything right," the mother curses. "You bring home a grade of F and then you piss off all afternoon. What will people think of us? What will they say when they see what a bad daughter I have? I have a reputation to lose."
The mother storms towards Svantje. Svantje flinches. She buries her head in her two arms. Trembling and afraid, she sits there on her bed, more alone than she has ever been before. More lonely and helpless than ever before. Svantje feels so guilty and at the same time so abandoned. And there is no one there who can help her. The person who should actually be there for her now is standing angrily in front of her and screaming at her.
Poor Svantje. A helpless child in a sad, hopeless world. What have they done to you, Svantje? What are they doing to you?
Svantje sits quietly in her room, the thin curtains on the window blocking her view of the world outside. Her heart is pounding as she tries to block out the feelings and pain that have tormented her so often. It is as if she is wrapping herself in a dark, protective cocoon to escape reality.
Deep in the darkness, from far away, she hears her mother's shrill voice echoing in her head. "You are worthless. You are good for nothing. You are trash." The words dig deep into her core and she feels like the helpless child she is again.
Svantje tries to free herself from this cruel reality by escaping into her thoughts. She imagines that she is on a deserted island with Daryl, her new friend, where nothing can happen to her. The island is lined with palm trees, the white sand beneath her feet is warm and soft. The sound of the sea lulls her into a perfect world.
Daryl, who is sitting next to her, takes her hand and smiles gently at her.
"Svantje, you are strong. You are worth more than she wants you to believe. You are not alone. I am here for you and I will always be here for you."
Svantje gives him a grateful smile and feels how his words encourage her.
"Thank you, Daryl. You mean so much to me. Here, on this island, we are free and happy."
The two spend hours together, laughing, telling each other stories and forgetting the world outside. But even on the island, reality cannot be repressed forever.
Svantje's mother leaves the room and the door closes with a dull bang. Only now does Svantje realize how engrossed she was in her escape into the world of imagination. When she looks around her room again, she realizes that she is battered and has an injured arm. She is lying on the floor, crying, sad, alone. Tears run down her cheeks and she feels the stabbing pain that brings her back to harsh reality.
The memories of her mother's words and the physical injuries are painful and unbearable. But she knows that she cannot escape into her thoughts forever. She struggles to her feet, the pain in her arm is almost unbearable.
Finally, Svantje lies down in bed, crying, hugging her pillow tightly and trying to push away thoughts of the past. She knows that in Daryl she has found someone who gives her support and love. And maybe, just maybe, one day she can escape from this nightmare and free herself from the chains of the past.
Chapter 4 - In Prison
Daryl wakes up this morning with a broad smile. The anticipation of the school day flows through him like a pleasant ray of sunshine. It is not the lessons that make him so happy, but the prospect of seeing Svantje again. She has been ill for the last few days and Daryl has missed her terribly. The thought of the wonderful times with her puts a smile on his face. He misses her words, her presence very much.
After getting dressed and having breakfast, Daryl grabs his backpack and sets off for school. The streets are still quiet, the city is slowly waking up. He walks with a spring in his step, light as feathers. Anticipation drives him forward, and he can hardly wait to see Svantje again.
When he reaches the school, his excitement increases even further. The building looks majestic and inviting at dawn. With a pounding heart, he enters the school building and hurries up the stairs to his class. His eyes immediately search for Svantje, but she is not there. The desks are empty and there is an eerie silence.
Daryl feels his smile slowly fading. Where is Svantje? She was supposed to be back at school today. His mind is racing and he decides to look for her during recess. Maybe she just hasn't arrived yet.
The hours drag on agonizingly slowly, and Daryl can hardly contain his impatience. Finally, the bell rings for recess, and he sprints out of the classroom as if his life depended on it. He hurries down the corridor, but there is no sign of Svantje. He desperately searches the various corners of the school that they have used in the past as hiding places or meeting places. But she is not here either.
His heart beats faster and an unpleasant feeling creeps up inside him. Where could she be? Why isn't she here? Panic rises in him and he decides to go to the secretary's office. Maybe they know where Svantje is.
The walk to the secretary's office feels like an eternity. He enters the room where the school secretary is on the phone. He waits with a helpless look until she hangs up.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Müller, do you know where Svantje is?" he stammers. His voice is shaking and concern is written all over his face.
The secretary looks at him attentively. "Svantje? You mean Svantje Novak, right? She's not at school today, Daryl. She called in sick."
Sick? Daryl can hardly believe it.
"But... but she said yesterday that she would come back to school today," stammers Daryl.
Mrs. Müller nods understandingly.
"Sometimes plans change, Daryl. I know how happy you were to see her again. But it looks like you'll have to be patient."
Daryl thanks the secretary and leaves the office with his head hanging. The knowledge that Svantje won't be there today weighs heavily on him. He strolls back to his classroom and sinks into his seat. The lessons drag on painfully and he misses Svantje more than he ever thought possible.
Lunch break is approaching and Daryl decides not to give up the search for Svantje. Maybe she is in school after all and is just hiding somewhere. He leaves the school building and systematically begins to search the various corners of the school grounds. He calls her name, but there is no answer.
While he desperately searches for Svantje, dark clouds gather in the sky. The wind gets stronger and the first drops of rain fall. Daryl feels the cold creeping into his clothes, but he pays no attention. Svantje must be found, no matter what the cost.
The hours pass and Daryl doesn't give up. He searches the school building again and asks his classmates if they have seen Svantje. But no one has seen her today and the feeling of despair doesn't go away. Has she hurt herself? Has something bad happened to her?
Finally, the last class of the day approaches. Daryl sits in his classroom, unable to concentrate on the lesson. His thoughts are only with Svantje, with the uncertain certainty that she is not here. The teacher talks about mathematics and equations, but Daryl hears none of it. His heart is pounding in his ears, and he can hardly wait to finally escape from the school and search for Svantje again.
When the last period is over, Daryl rushes out of the classroom and runs to the teacher's lounge. He knocks excitedly on the door and enters the room without waiting for an answer.
"Excuse me, Mr. Schmidt, do you know where Svantje is?" he asks breathlessly. His eyes are wide open and his face radiates a mixture of worry and frustration.
The teacher looks at Daryl worriedly.
"Svantje? She's not at school today, Daryl. She's on sick leave. Didn't you ask the secretary?"
Daryl nods his head.
"I've looked everywhere for her, but she's nowhere to be found. I'm so worried, Mr. Schmidt."
The teacher puts a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Daryl. Sometimes unexpected things happen. But I'm sure Svantje will be back soon. She'll be happy to see you again."
Daryl nods and thanks Mr. Schmidt. But the knowledge that Svantje is sick and won't be there weighs heavily on his soul. With a sad heart, he leaves the school and heads home.
The rain has gotten heavier and the drops are pelting down on him. But Daryl doesn't care. His thoughts are with Svantje and he sincerely hopes that she will soon feel better and be able to come back to school.
As he walks through the wet streets, he knows he must be patient. Svantje will come back into his life, and then he will appreciate her company even more. But at this moment, he can't help but miss her terribly.
Svantje sits alone on the deserted bench at the playground, which is shrouded in darkness. Her gaze is fixed on the ground, while the cool evening wind gently caresses her unruly hair. The playground is quiet and lonely, the swings and slides seem like abandoned shadows of her happy day.
Her mother went out that evening, not realizing that her daughter had sneaked away. In her hands, Svantje holds a drawing she made today. She observes the artwork that shows her injured arm - the plaster is artfully decorated with flowers and hearts.
An expression of unrest and sadness is reflected in her eyes.
The playground is Svantje's refuge. Here she can escape the eerie silence at home for a while. But today is a special evening because Daryl, her boyfriend, has promised to meet her here. The darkness has long since taken hold of this place and Svantje is starting to worry that he might not be able to find her.
Finally, a familiar silhouette appears on the horizon. Daryl approaches with quick steps, his face etched with concern. Svantje looks up and smiles weakly when she recognizes him.
“Daryl,” she whispers, trying to pull herself up, but the cast on her arm prevents her from doing so.
Daryl reaches the bench and sits down next to her.
"Svantje, where have you been all day?" he says worriedly. "I've been looking for you everywhere. I was so worried."
Svantje lowers her gaze again and nervously fiddles with the drawing.
“I... I needed to be alone,” she answers quietly, as if she can hardly believe it herself.
Daryl looks at her worriedly and notices her arm in a cast.
"What's wrong with your arm?" he asks. "How did this happen? Why did you hurt yourself?"
Svantje hesitates for a moment before answering.
“I hurt myself while playing,” she mumbles, looking at the floor.
Daryl frowns and says, "That's strange. You usually just sit here on the bench and watch the others. What happened, Svantje? Are there problems at home?"
Daryl's words throw Svantje off track. She starts to tremble nervously, her eyes become moist, and the words threaten to choke her. But she fights to open up.
"I... I can't talk about it," she stammers. Tears well up in her eyes. "It's complicated."
Daryl gently takes her uninjured hand in his and squeezes it reassuringly.
"Svantje, you can trust me," he tries to explain to her. "If you have problems, I'm here to listen and help. You are not alone."
Svantje fights her fear, but the words get stuck. She has been silent and suppressed her feelings for so long that it is difficult to suddenly let them out. A lonely drop of tear falls on her drawing.
They hear footsteps in the distance and Svantje freezes in fear. Her mother is on her way to the playground. Panic takes hold of her and without saying another word she gets up and runs away, leaving Daryl sitting on the bench.
Daryl looks after her desperately, but he understands that now is not the time to ask questions. He has a feeling that Svantje is running from something she cannot express. He stands up and sighs before heading home.
Meanwhile, Svantje reaches the tall apartment building where she lives with her mother. Her steps are hurried and she is determined to get to the apartment before her mother to avoid any awkward questions. When she opens the door, the darkness in the hallways is so oppressive that she almost stumbles.
Finally she reaches her apartment and breathes a sigh of relief as she closes the door behind her. The relieved atmosphere in her home is like a cloak of invisibility for the secret wounds that Svantje carries with her. She looks around the small apartment and feels suffocated and safe at the same time. But one thing is certain: she will not easily forget this evening and the conversation with Daryl.
Svantje sneaks quietly, like a shadow, through the narrow corridors of the apartment. The door closes with a muffled click and she knows that her mother has come home from work. Her heart is beating fast because she has something to hide, something she must not discover. She has to be careful.
The mother, exhausted from a long day at work, enters the living room and puts her bag on the worn sofa. She has no idea that her daughter has hidden in her room. Svantje has learned how to be invisible, how to hide in the shadows of her own existence. This is her way of surviving in a world that is so often incomprehensible and unfair to her.
When she hears her mother's footsteps approaching, she feels a lump in her throat. She can't stop her heart from beating faster and the sweat from beading on her forehead. Svantje knows she has no choice but to hide. Her mother must not find out what she has done.
Svantje scurries into her small, dark room and closes the door quietly behind her. She takes one last look at the chaos she has left behind. Books, clothes and drawings are scattered on the floor. She can only hope that her mother doesn't notice. The seconds pass like hours and then she hears the living room door open.
Her mother goes into the kitchen, her eyes tired and absent. She has no idea what is going on behind the closed door at this moment. Svantje presses herself against the wall, holding her breath. She hears the soft clatter of dishes, the sound of her mother making tea. Then she hears the footsteps approaching, and her heartbeat gets louder, louder than the beat of a drum.
Suddenly the door to her room bursts open and her mother stands in the doorway. Her face is a mixture of surprise and anger.
“Svantje, what the hell are you doing here?” Her mother stares at the chaos in Svantje’s room.
Svantje stares at her mother, paralyzed. She has no words, no explanation. She had hoped that she could clean it up in time, but she was wrong.
Her mother frowns and shakes her head.
"I can't believe what I'm seeing," she screams. "What's gotten into you, Svantje? You should take care of your things and not always leave such a mess behind."
Svantje swallows hard, but she can't make a sound. Her mother has no idea what she really did. She has no idea that Svantje hasn't been home all day.
The mother sighs and steps further into the room. Her eyes wander over the sketchbooks lying on the floor.
"I don't know what to do with you, Svantje. You're old enough to take responsibility."
Svantje finally finds her voice and whispers: "I was at home all day, Mom. I really didn't do anything wrong."
Her mother laughs mockingly.
"Oh yeah? And why should I believe you? You were definitely out and about again, right?"
Svantje clearly senses that her mother doesn't want to believe her. She hasn't done anything. Tears gather in her eyes and she wishes she were strong enough to defend herself. But she isn't.
"I was really at home, Mom. I was drawing and reading all day," she says with a trembling voice.
Her mother shakes her head.
"I don't believe you, Svantje. You're such a liar, always looking for adventure. You just can't stop thinking nonsense."
Svantje can no longer hold back the tears and they roll down her cheeks.
"Why don't you believe me? Why do you always think the worst of me?"
Her mother glares at her.
"Because you prove it again and again, Svantje," she says with a deep undertone. "You are and will always be a problem child. I sometimes wonder why I had you in the first place."
Her mother's words hit Svantje like a blow. She feels powerless and hurt.
"Why are you talking to me like that? I'm just trying to do the right thing."
Her mother is getting angrier.
"The right thing? You have no idea what that is. You waste your time on useless things and only make our lives more difficult."
A bitter argument breaks out in which the mother shouts and insults Svantje. Svantje tries desperately to defend herself, but her mother doesn't listen. The words cut like knives through Svantje's soul and she can only cry.
"Why can't you just be normal? Why do you always have to be the way you are?" her mother screams. Her gaze is ice cold and emotionless. Anger is written all over her face.
“Have you talked to anyone?” her mother finally asks.
Svantje shakes her head helplessly.
"You will not talk to anyone about our family," the mother orders in a military tone. "What happens here is nobody's business, do you understand?"
