Kipnapped by a phyco EN

Chapter 1

It was another one of those nights when I just had to get out. The constant pressure from home and school was too much. When I looked through the window of my room at the dark street, I knew I could no longer sit there. I was only 17, but my parents gave me an amazing amount of freedom as long as I kept their rules. It was strange, but at the same time a good feeling. They trusted me, and I knew they were always there for me when I needed them. But sometimes the trust they gave me was overwhelming, and I just needed time to be for myself without anyone looking after me.

That evening it was the urge for peace that drove me out of the house. The forest always had something calming about it, a silence that I appreciated. The world seemed to be different there, untouched by the worries of everyday life. I knew I would feel alone and safe there. The hustle and bustle of school, the constant feeling of always having to do something, left me the further I went away from home. It was like a small retreat, a secret place where no one could find me.

I put on my jacket, slipped into my old, worn sneakers and sneaked out the front door without making a sound. The night was cool, the sky only sparsely lit by the stars. The moon sent silver light on the deserted streets. As I walked down the street, I looked at the clock. It showed 11:47 p.m. Normally I'd be with my friend right now. But he had gone to New York to visit his family. I had considered coming along, but with the exams on the door, I decided to stay home and study. I didn't want to be distracted, and somehow I felt like I needed this time for myself. It was strange, but lately I often felt alienated from the world - from my friends, my family, even from him. It wasn't that I didn't love him anymore, but something in me longed for distance, for something that belonged only to me.

When I reached the edge of the forest, I took a deep breath of the cool, clear air. The trees stood close together and seemed to disappear into the darkness, but I knew the way. I had walked it countless times, had memorized every curve, every root and every hill in recent years. The forest was like an old friend who never disappointed me, who always waited for me to return to him. The path was still familiar, although a lot had changed since the last time I was here. Some trees had evolved, new plants had grown, but the forest itself had never lost its magic. It was almost as if the forest was the only place where I didn't constantly wonder what the future held for me.

I went deep into the forest for about 15 minutes until I stood in front of a familiar tree - a huge oak tree whose branches stretched far beyond me. Directly in front of it, in one of the upper branches, was the tree house. It was the tree house that my father, my best friend Leni and I had assembled years ago. At that time, everything had been so carefree. It was our secret place, our hiding place, the place where we could retreat to dream, laugh and look at the world from a distance. The day we finished the tree house had been one of those perfect summer days. The sky was cloudless, and the smell of fresh wood and grass had filled the air. The summer ahead seemed endless and full of possibilities. But that was an eternity ago, and that summer was the last one I spent with my father.

In September, shortly after I started school, my father took his own life. It was a hard blow that I never quite understood. The world I had known broke into pieces, and with it also disappeared the feeling of security. The tree house that had bound us forever became a place of mourning for me, but also of memory. It was the retreat I always visited, especially in the dark moments when I felt alienated from the world. And that evening it was again the place where I sought comfort.

I climbed up the old wooden ladder and settled down on one of the hammocks. The mats were originally intended for our garden, but when we had to cut down the trees to make room for the tree house, a new idea suddenly came up. The mats fit perfectly, and they made the tree house even more comfortable than it already was. The smell of fresh wood coming from the trees mixed with the scent of the hammocks, and I closed my eyes. The memories of all the days we had spent up here rose in me. Leni, who always had an incredible imagination, telling us stories while my father and I screwed together on the beams. It was the place where I could let go of all my worries. Today I was alone, but I didn't feel lonely. On the contrary, it was almost calming.

I took out my phone and read the messages that came from my friend. In the last 15 minutes I had received 10 messages from him. A slight smile crept to my face, which always happened when he wrote to me or when I saw him. It was a warm feeling, and I knew it wasn't coincidence that we had met back in the first grade of high school. Since then we have been a couple, even though there were many girls who were jealous of us. They never seemed to be ashamed to cast their eyes at me as if they thought he and I didn't fit together. But I didn't care. I knew we were meant for each other.

We had many common experiences and had gone through thick and thin. It was always clear that we loved each other, and that love had made us stronger. I read the last news, in which he told me about his stay in New York. He sent me a picture of his favorite place there - an old cafe they used to visit when he was with his family. I felt so close to him, even from a distance. It was a reassuring feeling.

I looked around the tree house. The walls were covered with pictures, the memories of the beautiful moments we had spent together. Pictures of my family, of Leni and me, of me and my father. It was a kind of shrine, a monument to all the happy times that could never be taken away from us. In the midst of all the tears and grief, this was the place where I kept looking for peace.

I took out my diary, which I always had with me. It has been my faithful companion in recent years. I began to write, the thoughts flowed on the pages, as if they were a part of me. Word for word. The diary was to me like a friend who always had an open ear. It helped me to organize all my feelings and thoughts and let them out of myself. A while later, I put the book aside and stood up. It was time for a little break.

I went to a box in the corner and took out a small pillow and a blanket. I put both on the hammock and took another book that I had started reading some time ago. The forest around me was quiet, almost magical. The wind blew gently through the leaves, and it was as if the trees were whispering their own stories. It was the perfect moment. The forest, the tree house, the book - I felt so far away from the world out there.

At some point I fell asleep, the book in my hand. But it wasn't the coolness that woke me up. It was a sudden movement that woke me up. I felt a hand grab my arm. Frightened, I opened my eyes and stared at a young man's face. The moon seemed faint on his face, but his brown eyes stinged in the darkness. They were intense, as if they were looking into my soul.