All Chapters of My Dear Kidnapper: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The guard, at the end of the row on the left, was holding a middle-aged woman by the arm. He must have just pulled her up. Now he let go of her and stepped behind the next one. It was apparently the woman's husband, because as soon as he stood up too, she asked worriedly: "Are you okay with you, Frank?" He nodded soothingly.One after the other, a young man, an older lady, another, then an older gentleman and then another stood up. Then it was my turn. But the man who had previously helped the others up left me and instead continued with the man next to me.I looked up at Sascha questioningly. He saw my eyes and said: “Our plane is leaving soon, we should leave slowly.”“And what about me? Am I staying here? ”I asked him. Slightly amused, he shook his head and answered me: “No, but my cousin doesn't put his hand on someone else's girl.”“I am your girl?”“Yes.”“I am not your

The girl next to me, she was maybe a little younger than me, started crying. It must be terrible for her. And I knew it, I just couldn't think of it. Yes, I knew it again. He said he was from Tanzania. Hopefully the others came along too."Spain?" Asked a gentleman who was also a little older. Again I shook my head and mouthed the word: “Tanzania.”“Oh Spain, I think I've never come here before. But it has to be beautiful. It's wonderfully warm there. ", The guy made fun of the man. "One more try. I advise you only say something if you are quite sure. ”I carefully tapped the girl next to me on the leg with my foot. She just turned her head a little in my direction. The pretty long, brown hair fell in front of her face so that I couldn't see it.How incredibly practical that at that very moment the man who had stood behind us went to his father and enjoyed the sight of his prisoners grimacing with fear. The rest of the kidnappers w

 How rude of me. I am Sascha. This is my brother Taylor and my father Bruno, ”he explained to me. I saw Taylor raise a hand in greeting. What didn't make sense to me was that they told us their names so easily. Normally kidnappers wanted to remain undetected, didn't they? And why did Sascha get up?From the left I heard a faint scream, so quiet in the sense of hardly worth mentioning. I looked over. The guard, at the end of the row on the left, was holding a middle-aged woman by the arm. He must have just pulled her up. Now he let go of her and stepped behind the next one. It was apparently the woman's husband, because as soon as he stood up too, she asked worriedly: "Are you okay with you, Frank?" He nodded soothingly.One after the other, a young man, an older lady, another, then an older gentleman and then another stood up. Then it was my turn. But the man who had previously helped the others up left me and instead continued with the man next to me.

He didn't let go of my hand either. Even when we were in the back seat, he held it in his hand. It wasn't uncomfortable. His was nice and warm and warmed my ice-cold fingers. The only thing that wasn't so comfortable was that my hand was on his leg.The car drove off. He rolled through the gate and out onto a dirt road. The gate closed automatically behind us. I couldn't look forward to Bruno and Taylor. A thick, dark-tinted pane prevented any visual contact. I was practically alone with Sascha. You couldn't see from the windows either. Not only were they black from the outside, but from the inside you couldn't see anything more than your own reflection. Only by the sound of the tires did I recognize that we were no longer driving on gravel, but on a tarred road.To be honest, it made me tingle to be chained to Sascha. Not like butterflies in your stomach, but in a completely different way. Pleasant or unpleasant, I couldn't say.My fingers were getting warmer.

How old was I there? I think about seven years.My father had held me tight, and with a mere hug he had given me more love than I had felt in a long time. I had closed my eyes and just enjoyed my father rocking me gently back and forth.At some point I asked him where mom was. He replied that she was packing her things, that she would move out, away from us. He promised me that she would never hurt me again.I saw my mother again after my father promised me that. During their departure. I stood by my window and looked down to the exit where there was a car and my mother was standing next to that car. Our cook stood in front of my mother, I think her name was Greta. She watched happily as my mother's luggage was loaded into the back of the car.When mother looked up at me, I was shocked. She looked so mean and angry. I quickly took a few steps back from the window.My mother was always mad at me. Years later I tried again to remember something beaut