Walter stepped through the front door, the familiar creak sounding like a welcome home. The faint scent of lemon cleaner lingered from a recent tidy-up—a stark contrast to the chaotic whirlwind of thoughts swirling in his mind. It had been a long day, and he was relieved to finally be home, ready to unwind.
However, the moment he entered, a sense of unease washed over him. The usually boisterous noise of his niece Sidel was absent, replaced by an unsettling silence that crept into the corners of the house. He found Ashton slouched on the worn, fraying couch, deep in thought.
"So, where is Sidel?" Walter asked, his gaze flicking around the empty living room, scanning for hints of her vibrant presence.
"She's having a sleepover with her friends," Ashton replied, his expression a mixture of nostalgia and sadness. "I think you know she's growing up so fast. I can't believe it's been ten years since I first met her. She's practically your sister now."
"I know, right?" Walter said, forcing a smile despite the weight on his shoulders. "I've been thinking about how I can be more involved in her life. She's so smart at school, and I really hope she has a bright future."
Ashton nodded but then added, "Unlike your sister, Sidel has a shot at that future. I can't believe the things Jasmin chose to do just to get by."
Walter winced at the mention of his sister. The past was like a specter that haunted their conversations, always lurking too close. "Yeah, I see your point. But Sidel is different. I know she's going to make something of herself."
Ashton shifted slightly and asked, "So, how was your day?"
Walter sighed, feeling the burden of two worlds resting on his shoulders. "It was good. I finally took Jasmin to the hospital. I hope they can help her now that she's been in prison for so many years. At least there, she'll have specialists who care."
"I hope she gets better," Ashton said softly. "She hated it in prison."
"I hate it too," Walter admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "But she understands why things had to happen this way. She probably thinks about you and Sidel often."
Ashton's expression darkened briefly, the thought of his former friend's struggles weighing heavily upon him. "Yeah, I know that pain. It's hard seeing those we care for trapped in a cycle of their own making."
Walter looked at him, a flicker of sympathy lighting his eyes. "That's why I want to be here for Sidel. To make sure she knows there are better choices. That she's worth so much more."
Ashton smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You're doing a good job, Walter. I see it, and I'm proud of you."
A heavy silence settled between them, filled with unspoken fears and hopes. Walter felt the need for rest pressing down on him.
Sonja stood resolutely before the cameras, the bright lights of the media frenzy illuminating her once-ordinary office, now transformed into the epicenter of ambition. She had just been appointed CEO of Heinen Realty Company, a title with heavy implications, especially considering her predecessor—her husband, Dirk—was now running for mayor. Confidence spilled from her voice as she answered questions, a facade she was determined to maintain, even as tremors of doubt threatened to break through the surface.
"MRS. HEINEN, why did you become the CEO President of the company of Heinen Realty?" a journalist asked, thrusting a microphone toward her.
"It's a matter of trust. Dirk believed in my capabilities, and now I hope to carry on his legacy while he serves the community," Sonja replied, making a mental note to call him after this circus. She could almost hear her mother's voice in her head: You've always been good at handling pressure, my dear. Remember that.
The facade held steady as more questions rolled in, with polished words flowing seamlessly from her lips. "Dirk truly cares for this city. His vision for a better future is something I stand behind wholeheartedly."
But what she didn't speak of was the sleepless nights where she wrestled with nightmares; what if she failed? What if the reporters—whom she once admired from a distance—saw through her crafted image, the insecurities lurking beneath?
"WHAT ABOUT THE ROBBERY ISSUE LAST YEAR?" another reporter interjected.
Sonja's heart pounded as she recalled the chaos that had erupted—a breach that had broken her husband's spirit and confidence in the safety of their dreams. "It's tragic. I understand that some people make poor choices, and it falls upon us to protect our team..." she faltered, "maybe with security enhancements..."
Despite her careful responses, a prick of anxiety danced in her stomach.
As the questions continued, she noticed Fabienne, her assistant and newly appointed bodyguard, standing protectively near the door. Fabienne had been there through thick and thin, adding weight to Sonja's resolve. The moment she finished her last interview, Fabienne moved in, blocking the doorway and skillfully ushering the reporters away with practiced authority.
"Are you all right?" Fabienne asked, a concerned glint in her eyes as they nestled into the comparative safety of Sonja's office.
Sonja took a breath, brushing off the flood of adrenaline. "Just a bit overwhelmed."
"Do you think the company will improve?" Fabienne pressed, genuinely wanting to ensure Sonja understood her own capabilities.
"I..." Sonja hesitated, "I want to believe it will. But I can't promise that; all I can do is plan."
Returning to the desk, she found Judith already settled in, preparing the reports. "Make sure that you're going to give me the reports, Judith," Sonja directed, though the urgency in her voice was aimed more at soothing her own uncertainty than challenging her assistant.
"Don't worry, I'll make it happen," Judith assured her, a sparkle of belief dancing in her eyes.
Sonja appreciated the trust. With each piece of paperwork aligned before her, she felt the mantle of responsibility settle—not just as a CEO, but as a custodian of dreams. She studied the hardships the company faced, the potential that lay dormant, and the resilience she hoped to ignite.
The sun filtered through the slats of the blinds, casting sharp lines of light across Fabienne's desk. She had been in the office for hours, arranging reports and filing papers, consumed by her relentless need to keep everything in its proper order. The soft thud of footsteps broke her concentration, and she looked up to see Wilfred sauntering in, his usual charm radiating from him like a warm glow.
"I would love to see you in the morning like this," he said, his voice laced with a flirtation that felt as familiar as the creaking of the office chairs.
Fabienne, however, felt the weight of her work pressing upon her shoulders. "I'm just doing my job," she replied curtly, answering his smile with a glance that held no warmth.
Wilfred leaned closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, okay. But maybe you're more interested in me than you let on. Why don't you come to my house later? We could have a date."
Fabienne arched an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards despite herself. "So, you want sex again?"
"Not like that, exactly," he replied, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I want to have a date. Do sweet things... like watch romantic movies and have a sleepover."
"Sounds boring. Like what?" she countered, a hint of challenge in her tone.
"Oh, you know, just being together. Relaxing, talking... enjoying the silence of each other's company," he replied with sincerity.
Fabienne sighed, bracing herself against the edge of her desk. "I don't understand why you keep flirting with me. Are you just using me for something? Only for your pleasure?"
"I know you don't always get it. Let me clarify why I'm always around for you." He paused, the gravity of his next words shifting the air between them. "I'm madly in love with you."
"Scheisse..." she groaned, the word slipping from her lips devoid of real feeling.
"What?" Wilfred's brow furrowed, his heart racing in anticipation.
"I don't know how that feels," she confessed, the walls she had built around herself starting to tremble.
"Come on... you must have felt it. The fast heartbeats, the blush creeping in, the way time freezes when you look at someone you love. That's what being in love is," he pressed, his voice a blend of hope and urgency.
"If I feel those symptoms, that means I am?" Her response was more a question than an assertion.
"Exactly. You should be here with me. Let's meet at my brother's house tonight," he urged, his eyes searching hers for a flicker of understanding.
The moment hung thick in the air as Wilfred leaned in, capturing Fabienne's lips with his own. To her surprise, a flutter ignited in her chest, a blend of warmth and confusion that she desperately fought against. The kiss was electric, a wave of emotions she hadn't allowed herself to feel washing over her.
As they pulled apart, Fabienne stared at him, bewildered. It felt strange, almost intoxicating. Yet, something inside her recoiled, pushing her back into her safe, detached world. She needed to maintain the barrier she had constructed; love was messy, and she couldn't afford to be tied down.
"Wilfred..." she began, but the words stumbled out clumsily.
"Just think about it," he whispered softly, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "I'll be waiting."
As he strode out of her office, the warmth of his kiss lingered on her lips, leaving her with an unfamiliar ache.
In the dim light of the abandoned storage room, Jasmin fumbled with the hairpin hidden under her bra. Panic coursed through her, but she focused on the tiny lock that had confined her for far too long. The metallic click echoed in the silence of the mental hospital, and she took a steadying breath. The door swung open, revealing the stark, sterile hallway that felt more like a looming prison than a doorway to freedom.
With her heart racing, she hurriedly slipped into the room and rummaged through the discarded belongings. Her fingers brushed against fabric—new clothes, still neatly folded and untouched. They must have belonged to the therapist, one who, in Jasmin's mind, represented everything that trapped her here. She donned a loose shirt and baggy pants, pulling a mask over her face to obscure her identity. With determination fueling her every step, Jasmin set her sights outside into the world that had long been denied her.
She maneuvered through the hallways, dodging staff and other patients. Each step brought her closer to escape; freedom was within reach. She envisioned the life she'd reclaim with her best friend, Janina, had the same dreams of escaping their mutual confines. But when she finally reached Janina's house and crossed the threshold, the warmth of familiarity was cut by an eerie stillness.
The air hung heavy with neglect, and a sense of dread washed over Jasmin. Blood trails led up the staircase, and trembling hands gripped the railing as she followed the crimson path. Her heart hammered in her chest as she stepped into Janina's room, only to be met with a chilling sight—walls plastered with frenzied notes that screamed of despair.
"I want to kill myself! I want revenge on the Heinen family! They will pay for what they did!" The words blurred through the tears that pooled in Jasmin's eyes. She remembered the bond she had with Janina, two girls tangled in trauma, yet united by hope. Now, that hope lay shattered like broken glass.
A glimpse of the past, captured by a camera resting on the table, caught her attention. Her breath hitched as she hesitated, the urge to see Janina's face one last time overwhelming. She pressed play.
Janina appeared on screen—a girl consumed by tears, a voice fractured with grief. "I know you won't understand how Dirk was a monster... He ruined my life and took my brother... I'll make him pay for this. This is my last goodbye." The video cut as Janina moved towards the window, her despair leading to the unimaginable.
Horror surged through Jasmin. Tears streamed down her face, a torrent of regret and rage. She wanted to scream, to shout into the void that claimed her friend, but an echo of determination arose from the depths of her sorrow. She rummaged through Janina's belongings, driven by a frantic need to find something—anything—that could pull her friend's spirit from the pit of despair.
When her fingers brushed against a worn ID card, her breath caught. It bore Janina's name, framed with words: "BODYGUARD." A plan formed in her aching heart, tethering hope and revolution together. She would not let Janina's tale end in darkness. With newfound resolve, Jasmin envisioned a future where they would fight against the very shadows that sought to consume them.
Jasmin tucked the ID close to her heart, a talisman of her promise. If she escaped tonight, she would avenge her friend. With a final glance at the haunting remnants of Janina's pain, she stepped back into the night. The world was waiting, and so was justice.
*Janina's ID.
-Personal bodyguard's ID
Name: Janina Schneider
(Birthday/place): 18. 09.89/Bochum
(Marital status): (Married)
(Availability) Mon-Sat,
(In this agreement, we agreed you to hire me as your guarantee and trusted bodyguard, and if you had complains for doing me an irresponsible job, you can also find me in Find-bodyguard.net.)
Then Jasmin was going to open the cabinet and saw her laptop, there she was going to go to the site of Find-bodyguard.net where she could possibly find Janina there.
In Find-bodyguard.net homepage, she saw it was a personal service where all of the bodyguards are personally hired because of that site, she searched for Janina's name and she saw that she has profile and she click on to her profile.
She saw that Janina's personal information to her profile that she was bee hired already from the past few years by Dirk and Sonja.
Janina Scheider's Profile
Bio:
I'm Janina Scheider, I'm 28 years old and I'm already ready to be your bodyguard at your service J
Other details:
Hired by this service: (formerly and current who hires her as bodyguard shows)
Dirk Heinen-from 2014
Natasha Brooks-2014 (4 months-formerly)
Then when Jasmin browses for another bodyguard and she saw her old colleague was also been a bodyguard named Fabienne Olner, and Jasmin think to start to do her plan, after she tries to understand and elaborate them, which she struggles to read in every word on the site.
(Her own hallucination thoughts) That means you have to do what to do...she is a bodyguard, you have to let them pay for what happened to Janina...
The moon hung high in the sky, its pale light spilling through the tall windows of the mental hospital like a ghostly visitor. Dirk's heart thudded painfully against his ribcage as he entered the sterile lobby, disappointment mingling with anxiety in a heavy cocktail inside him. It had been weeks since he last saw Jasmin, and her absence weighed on him like a shroud.
"Is Jasmin fine?" he asked the specialist, his voice barely masking the concern etched across his features.
"Unfortunately, she escaped," the specialist replied, the words hanging in the air like a portent of doom. "She didn't want to stay here any longer. I've heard many of her complaints, and I can assure you, her room was always locked."
Dirk felt the room swirl around him. "Oh come on, why are you not being careful?" His voice rose in frustration, barely contained. How could this happen?
"We're doing everything we can," the specialist replied stiffly, pinching the bridge of his nose as if reining in his own rising temper. "However, we can't explain how she managed to escape. She didn't take anything with her. She was alone in her room, and we're supposed to be giving her medication."
Dirk couldn't reconcile the specialist's calm demeanor with the chaos unfurling in his mind. "I see! You didn't even do your job well. I just can't believe it!" His words dripped with accusation, frustration bursting forth like a dam.
"Sir, we've tried everything—we're not negligent," the specialist insisted, desperation creeping into his voice.
Dirk left the mental hospital with rapid steps, the cool night air hitting him like a slap. He went through the motions of driving back to his company, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Jasmin. He had been her anchor, her light in a world that cast long shadows. With each mile, Dirk replayed memories of laughter and tears, of whispered secrets shared during the brief moments of lucidity they carved out together in that sterile, lifeless environment.
He thought about Jasmin's eyes. The way they had sparked with a mixture of defiance and fear every time they spoke. She had been trapped—physically and mentally—inside her own tapestry of pain. That hospital room, her prison. Freedom must have felt hauntingly beautiful to her, even if it was filled with uncertainty.
As he pulled into the parking lot of his office, a jolt of resolve coursed through him. He would find her. No matter what it took, he would search every corner of the city if he had to. Determination ignited within him as he climbed out of the car. If the hospital couldn't keep her safe, then he would.
The crisp sound of hairs falling to the floor echoed in the small room. Jasmin stared at her reflection in the mirror, her damp hair now a tousled mess of uneven strands. The face peering back at her was both familiar and foreign, a blend of loss and defiance. It was a tribute of sorts to Janina, her sister, who now existed only in memory, her laughter swallowed by an ocean of grief.
As she descended the stairs, each step felt heavier, her heart weighed down by unspoken words and unfulfilled dreams. The kitchen door swung open, revealing a chaotic scene of scattered beer cans littering the countertops. A faint voice in her mind urged caution—warning against the embrace of oblivion—but Jasmin brushed it aside.
She grabbed dozens of cans, their cool metal biting into her skin, and made her way to the living room. The couch was her sanctuary, a familiar spot where shadows blended with nostalgia. She cracked open a can, the hiss breaking the stillness of the house that felt more like a tomb. With each gulp, the world around her dimmed, the edges blurring as if reality itself was unfolding like an old photograph.
Hours blurred together, and a sense of warm detachment engulfed her. It was then she heard it—a whisper, lingering in the corners of her mind. "Jasmin... Jasmin..." It called, a gentle echo that sent chills down her spine.
She looked around, the room twisting into a surreal landscape consumed by the haze of intoxication. Her gaze fell on a picture frame mounted on the wall; it shone with the luster of memories. Suddenly, the figure within began to pulse with life. Janina, vibrant and smiling, emerged from the confines of the glass.
"Mona Lisa?" Jasmin murmured, her fingers brushing against her lips in disbelief. "Is that really you? I knew you'd come. I won't be alone anymore."
Janina's voice flowed like a melody that resonated deep within her heart. "I told you everything is alright..."
A bitter laugh escaped Jasmin's lips. "Like you told me before? You didn't come to the Philippines; you stayed here... in Wuppertal."
"I'm sorry about everything," Janina replied softly, her eyes holding a wealth of pain and understanding. "I struggled so many times... and I didn't want to drag you down with me."
"I thought you never come," Jasmin murmured, blinking as if emerging from a dream. Her gaze fell on him, a flicker of recognition breaking through the fog. "I know that you're not going to be alone now..." Timo spoke softly, wishing desperately that he could erase her pain.
"Why didn't you come with me last night?" The question rolled off her tongue, laced with a numbing blend of accusation and longing.
"I would have; I promise. Everything is fine now. Just think of me as always being here with you," he said, but the words felt hollow against the weight of her sadness.
"But you don't understand," she confessed, a quiver in her voice. "It felt so real... you and Janina, always advising me. It was all so vivid, and I can't quite grasp why... I want to tell you how much I love you."
"I always love you so much, and I always dreamt to be with you, Jasmin," Timo replied, caught between her longing and the reality that sat like a boulder on his chest.
In that moment, enraptured by the illusion of Timo, Jasmin surged forward, wrapping her arms around him. But the embrace was broken as reality shifted; she was tightly clutching Martin, who had just walked in.
"Hello... Jasmin, I don't have any idea of what you're talking about..." Martin stammered, confused as she clung to him, her eyes still glazed from the echoes of her hallucination.
"I always love you..." Jasmin murmured, her confusion deepening as she turned to kiss him, a movement laced with desperation.
"Jasmin, wait—" Martin interjected, instinctively stepping back, yet she moved closer, her intentions muddied by the haze.
"Ugh... why are you doing this, Timo? I think you're too hot and I'm too sexy so I wanted to give you an example..." Her voice dripped with a mixture of clarity and chaos.
In a bizarre parody of intimacy, she began to dance on the sofa, lost in her imagination, gyrating and licking her legs in a delirious spiral of seduction. She shed pieces of herself, tossing her top aside like crumpled paper, the burden of reality lifting while the fraying edges of her mind closed in.
And then, exhaustion curled around her like an unwanted lover. With a gentle sigh, she collapsed on the sofa, surrendering to the sweet embrace of sleep.
Martin stood still, a mixture of bewilderment and concern flooding through him. He turned to clean the scattered remnants of the evening, the half-empty bottles and crumpled wrappers echoing a story of fleeting joy interrupted by an impending grief.
Outside, the sun continued its path across the sky, unbothered by the storm within. Timo's voice, though silent now, lingered in the air: "You're not dead..."
Jasmin awoke to the morning sun slanting through the curtains, illuminating her living room in a glorious golden haze. She squinted at her reflection in the mirror and gasped. Her hair stood out in wild, chaotic spikes as if she had just been electrocuted. It had been days since she had combed her hair, and now it resembled a bird's nest more than a stylish do.
As she scrambled to tame the frizz, her eyes widened in delight—no, shock—as she noticed the living room. It was neat! Not just tidy, but practically sparkling. She blinked, still processing the rare sight when her roommate, Martin, descended the stairs, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
"Oh! I'm sorry, Martin!" she exclaimed, her voice rising an octave. "I didn't mean for you to see me like this! I'm not holding any 5-star hotel auditions, I promise! I didn't know you were coming over, and I just—"
"Uh, Jasmin?" Martin interrupted, raising an eyebrow, clearly amused by her chaotic state. "What's with the...specialist outfit? Did you get that from a thrift shop for mad scientists?"
Jasmin gazed down at herself, realizing she was still in the same oversized pajamas decorated with cartoon cats. "Oh, this? I went to an incognito party last night."
Martin snorted. "Are you serious right now? What even is an incognito party?"
"Basically, you wear whatever you want and act like you're someone else for the night," she said with a grin, "so I just decided to ignore everything else going on in my life, you know? It was... liberating!"
Martin shook his head, fighting a laugh. "You do know you looked like a raccoon at a pajama party, right?"
Jasmin brushed her hair back defiantly. "I'd say I was channeling my inner wild animal. Besides, I had a wonderful time! There was even someone there who told me I was too crazy!"
"Right, and that meant what exactly?" Martin leaned against the wall, intrigued.
"They called it the 'Schizo' part of my personality or something. Isn't that fun?" she said, scratching her head in earnest.
Martin sighed, as he tried to keep his composure. "What if this is a sign you should probably stick to reality a little more, Jasmin? Last I checked, your imaginary boyfriend didn't really exist."
"But he was so sweet to me!" she insisted, puffing out her cheeks dramatically. "And I know he's real in here." She pointed to her heart.
"That's some serious creative thinking. But you do realize he's in your imagination, right? Which is crazy. Sounds like you'll be joining Janina in her delusions."
Jasmin's expression shifted from playful to somber. "I know what happened to her. It's heartbreaking. I just wish I could've done something to help. I want to find whoever made her feel that way..."
"Jasmin, listen," Martin said gently, "if you start going after people like that, Dirk will hurt someone in your family too. You know how this escalates!"
"Fine, fine!" Jasmin conceded, throwing her hands up. "But first, I'm going to take a shower because you're not exactly helping my confidence with your smell insults!"
She marched toward the bathroom, her wild hair flipping behind her like a flag of defiance. Martin chuckled, catching a whiff as she passed. "And mind the shampoo this time! Not your usual potpourri!"
As the shower turned on, the sound of water filling the tub masked her laughter, but the promise was there, bubbling up along with the steam—a mix of determination, chaos, and just enough crazy to keep life spicy.