Rückkehr mit seinem Quartett

Chapter One

The body lay in perfect repose on the Victorian fainting couch, looking more like a sleeping beauty than a victim. Detective Sarah Chen had seen enough death in her ten years with the Metropolitan Police's Special Cases Unit to know that natural death never looked this peaceful. Something was very, very wrong.

        'No signs of struggle, no marks on the body, and yet...' She leaned closer, studying the victim's face. Charlotte Mills, aged 28, was found by her roommate this morning, apparently having passed away in her sleep. Her expression was serene, almost blissful, but her eyes - those were what caught Sarah's attention. Behind the closed lids, her eyes were moving rapidly, as if still deep in REM sleep.

        "You see it too, don't you?" The voice came from behind her, rich and cultured with a slight Irish lilt. "She's still dreaming."

        Sarah turned to find a tall man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit standing in the doorway. He hadn't been there a moment ago, she was certain of it. His dark hair was streaked with silver at the temples, and his eyes were an unusual shade of amber that seemed to shift color in the light.

        "This is a closed crime scene," she said firmly, her hand instinctively moving toward her weapon. "How did you get in here?"

        He smiled, but it didn't reach those strange eyes. "Dr. Marcus Thorne," he said, pulling out a card that somehow both looked official and seemed to shimmer slightly. "I'm a consulting specialist with the Department's new Oneiric Phenomena Division."

        "The what division?" Sarah frowned, taking the card. The moment her fingers touched it, she felt a slight electric tingle, and the letters seemed to rearrange themselves before her eyes.

        "Dreams, Detective Chen. We investigate crimes involving dreams." He moved into the room with fluid grace, his attention fixed on the victim. "And this is the third one this month."

        Sarah's mind raced. There had been two other deaths recently - both young women, both found peacefully dead in their sleep. She'd seen the reports but hadn't made the connection until now. "How do you know about those cases?"

        "Because I've been tracking the killer for quite some time." Thorne knelt beside the body, his eyes now definitely more gold than amber. "He's what we call a Dream Collector - someone who has learned to enter and steal dreams. But this one has developed a taste for more than just dreams. He's taking souls."

        Under normal circumstances, Sarah would have dismissed such talk as nonsense. But there was something about the scene, about the victim's still-moving eyes, about Thorne himself, that made the impossible seem suddenly plausible.

        "If you're tracking him," she said carefully, "why haven't you caught him?"

        Thorne's expression darkened. "Because he only appears in dreams. The physical world is my domain, but his... his is the realm of sleep. To catch him, we need someone who can walk between both worlds." He turned those unsettling eyes on her. "Someone like you."

        "Me?" Sarah almost laughed, but the sound died in her throat as memories she'd long suppressed began to surface. The dreams that felt too real, the nights she'd awakened to find objects moved in her room, the way she sometimes knew things she couldn't possibly know...

        "You've always known you were different, haven't you, Detective?" Thorne's voice was gentle now. "The dreams that come true, the hunches that turn out to be right, the way you can sometimes see how people died just by touching objects they owned..."

        Sarah took an involuntary step back. "How do you know about that?"

        "Because I've been looking for someone like you. A Natural - someone born with the ability to cross the threshold between waking and dreaming." He gestured to the victim. "Charlotte here won't be his last. There will be others, and their souls will remain trapped in an eternal dream unless we stop him."

        Just then, the victim's hand twitched, her fingers moving as if writing something. Sarah moved closer, watching as invisible words were traced in the air. Thorne pulled out what looked like an antique monocle and held it up. Through its lens, golden letters shimmered in the air where Charlotte's fingers moved.

        "Help me," Thorne read aloud. "He's coming for the others."

        Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She looked at the victim's peaceful face, at those restlessly moving eyes, and made a decision that would change her life forever.

        "Tell me what I need to do."

        Thorne's smile was grim. "First, you need to learn to control your abilities. Then..." he held up the monocle, through which Sarah could now see strange symbols glowing all around the room, "you need to learn to hunt in dreams."

        Outside the Victorian townhouse, storm clouds gathered, and Sarah Chen, homicide detective and newly discovered dream walker, took her first step into a world where nightmares were real, and death was just another kind of sleep.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Two

The basement of the Natural History Museum was the last place Sarah expected to find the headquarters of a secret dream investigation unit. Yet here she was, following Thorne through a maze of storage rooms filled with artifacts that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.

        "The mundane world only sees what it expects to see," Thorne explained, using an ornate key to unlock a heavy wooden door marked 'Private Collection.' "To them, this is just museum storage. To us, it's the largest collection of dream artifacts in the Western Hemisphere."

        The room beyond defied physics. It stretched impossibly far, filled with glass cases containing everything from ancient masks to modern-looking devices. Floating orbs of soft light illuminated collections of bottled dreams - actual dreams, swirling like liquid mercury behind glass.

        "Your badge, Detective," Thorne held out his hand. Sarah hesitated before handing over her police credentials. He placed it on a strange device that looked like a Victorian music box crossed with a computer. When he returned the badge, it felt different - heavier, somehow more real.

        "Now you'll be able to access both worlds officially," he said. "Look at it again."

        The badge had changed. Alongside her regular police credentials, new text had appeared: 'Special Inspector, Oneiric Investigations Division.' The letters seemed to shift between English and something older, something that made her eyes water if she looked too long.

        "Before we can hunt the Dream Collector, you need to understand what you're dealing with." Thorne led her to a case containing what looked like a normal pillow. "Touch it."

        Sarah reached out hesitantly. The moment her fingers made contact, the world tilted. She was suddenly standing in someone else's dream - a sunny beach, but the sky was green and the sand whispered secrets. She jerked her hand back, gasping.

        "Good," Thorne nodded approvingly. "Most people can't pull back from their first dream artifact. You have natural barriers."

        "What was that?" Sarah's heart was racing.

        "A dream fragment from 1892. A young girl's last dream before the influenza took her." His voice softened. "We preserve them here. Dreams carry memories, emotions, sometimes even pieces of souls."

        "And this Dream Collector... he takes entire souls?" Sarah remembered Charlotte Mills' peaceful face and restless eyes.

        "He traps them in eternal dreams, feeding off their essence." Thorne moved to another case, this one containing what looked like a cracked mirror. "Each victim becomes part of his collection, their souls powering his abilities, letting him dreamwalk without natural talent like yours."

        Suddenly, the cracked mirror began to frost over. In its surface, Sarah saw Charlotte Mills' face, mouth open in a silent scream. Then another face appeared - another victim, she presumed - and another.

        "He's showing off," Thorne growled. "He knows we're investigating."

        The temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Frost patterns spread from the mirror to nearby cases, and Sarah heard what sounded like distant laughter.

        "Well, well," a voice echoed through the room, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. "A new player in the game. And such interesting dreams you have, Detective Chen."

        Sarah felt something brush against her mind, like cold fingers trying to pry open a door. Instinctively, she slammed her mental barriers shut. The presence withdrew, but not before leaving behind an impression of amusement.

        "He's already caught your scent," Thorne said grimly. He pulled out a small velvet bag and removed what looked like a dreamcatcher made of silver wire and black pearls. "Wear this when you sleep. It won't keep him out entirely, but it'll stop him from stealing your dreams while you're still learning to defend yourself."

        As Sarah took the dreamcatcher, her fingers brushed Thorne's, and suddenly she was hit with a flash of his dreams - centuries of memories, battles fought in realms of sleep, and a profound sense of loss that made her gasp.

        Thorne withdrew his hand quickly. "Your abilities are stronger than I thought. We'll need to work on your control."

        "What are you?" Sarah asked directly. "You're not just some government consultant, are you?"

        Before he could answer, an alarm began to sound throughout the facility. One of the dream bottles had turned black, its contents writhing like smoke.

        "He's hunting again," Thorne said, already moving toward the exit. "Someone in the city has just entered their last dream. Are you ready for your first real case, Detective?"

        Sarah touched her new badge, feeling its power hum under her fingers. "Do we have time to save them?"

        "If we're lucky, we might catch him in the act. But remember - in dreams, he's incredibly powerful. One wrong move and you could lose your soul."

        As they rushed from the dream archive, Sarah caught one last glimpse of the cracked mirror. In its surface, she saw her own reflection smile back at her with eyes that weren't quite her own.

        The hunt was about to begin.

Chapter Three

They arrived at St. Bartholomew's Hospital just as the emergency lights began to flash. Sarah followed Thorne through corridors that seemed to blur at the edges of her vision, her new badge somehow clearing their path without ever being shown.

        "Room 307," Thorne said, his voice tight with urgency. "Young male, admitted for minor surgery, slipped into an unusual coma during recovery."

        The patient, David Parker, age 23, lay perfectly still on his hospital bed, his eyes moving rapidly beneath closed lids. Just like Charlotte Mills. But this time, something was different - the air around him rippled like heat waves over hot asphalt.

        "He's still in the process of taking him," Thorne said, pulling out what looked like an antique pocket watch. "We can follow if we're quick. Are you ready for your first dream dive?"

        Sarah's heart pounded. "What do I need to do?"

        "Take my hand. Focus on the patient. Let your consciousness slip between the moments of reality." Thorne's eyes began to glow that strange amber color. "And whatever you see in there, remember - dream logic is real logic in that world."

        Sarah grasped Thorne's hand and looked at David Parker. The world tilted, twisted, and suddenly...

        They were standing in a hospital corridor that wasn't quite right. The walls breathed slowly, the floor was made of flowing water that somehow supported their weight, and the ceiling was a swirling mass of constellation maps.

        "His dreamscape," Thorne explained, his voice echoing strangely. "Every dreamer creates their own reality. Look."

        Down the impossible corridor, a figure in a doctor's coat was leading David Parker by the hand. But the 'doctor' was wrong - his shadow moved independently, reaching out with grasping tendrils towards other dreams that floated past like soap bubbles.

        "The Dream Collector," Sarah whispered.

        As if hearing his name, the figure turned. Sarah's breath caught. His face was a beautiful mask of shifting features, never settling on one form, but his eyes... his eyes were endless pits of swirling dreams.

        "Ah, the new dreamer," his voice was like silk over broken glass. "And my old friend Marcus. Still trying to police the dream worlds?"

        Thorne stepped forward, and Sarah noticed his appearance had changed in the dream. His suit was now made of living shadows, and wings of dark light stretched from his shoulders. "Let him go, Collector. You've taken enough souls."

        The Collector laughed, the sound causing the hospital walls to crack, leaking golden dream-light. "Taken? Oh, Marcus, you still don't understand. They give themselves to me. Show her, David."

        The young man turned, and Sarah saw his eyes were glassy with bliss. "It's beautiful here," he said dreamily. "All my pain is gone. All my fears. He takes them all away."

        "By taking everything you are," Sarah found herself saying. She took a step forward, instinctively reaching for her police badge. In the dream, it transformed into a shield of pure light. "David, this isn't real healing. It's theft."

        The Collector's face rippled with anger. "You dare interrupt my collection?" The corridor began to twist, reality bending around them. "Let me show you what happens to those who interfere with my work."

        Suddenly, the floor beneath Sarah liquefied completely. She started to sink, but instead of water, she was drowning in dreams - thousands of them, each containing a fragment of someone's stolen soul. She saw Charlotte Mills dancing endlessly in a ballroom of mirrors, saw other victims trapped in perfect moments that had become eternal prisons.

        "Sarah!" Thorne's voice cut through the chaos. "Remember - dream logic! Make your own rules!"

        Dream logic. Sarah closed her eyes, focusing on her years of police work, of protecting people, of solving puzzles. When she opened them, her badge-shield had transformed into a sword of pure thought.

        With a cry, she slashed through the dream-flood. Reality reasserted itself - or at least, this dream's version of reality. She stood on solid ground again, facing the Collector.

        "Impressive," he purred, but she sensed uncertainty in his voice. "You're stronger than the usual dreamers Marcus recruits. Perhaps we could make a deal..."

        "No deals," Sarah said firmly. She could feel her power growing, reshaping the dream around them. "David, look at what he really is. Look with your heart, not your fears."

        For a moment, David's eyes cleared. The Collector's beautiful mask slipped, revealing something ancient and hungry beneath. David screamed, pulling away from the creature's grasp.

        The Collector snarled, his form shifting into something monstrous. "If I can't have him willingly..." Shadows exploded from his body, reaching for David.

        What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. Thorne spread his dark wings, shielding David. Sarah's sword of thought became a net of light, trapping some of the shadows. But the Collector himself simply... stepped sideways, vanishing into a door that appeared in the air.

        "Sweet dreams, detectives," his voice lingered behind. "We'll meet again soon. After all, Sarah, your dreams are particularly... appetizing."

        The dreamscape began to dissolve. Sarah felt Thorne grab her arm, pulling her back through layers of reality. Then...

        They were standing in the hospital room again. David Parker was awake, gasping, but alive and whole. A nurse was rushing in, responding to his sudden revival.

        "We saved one," Thorne said quietly. "But he'll be angry now. And he'll come for you."

        Sarah touched her badge, still feeling echoes of its dream-power. "Good," she said grimly. "Because I have some questions for him about Charlotte Mills. And about what you really are, Marcus Thorne."

        Thorne's expression was unreadable. "All in time, Detective. For now, you need to rest. Tomorrow, your real training begins."

        As they left the hospital, Sarah could have sworn she saw her shadow move independently, reaching for dreams that floated just beyond the edge of sight. The world would never look quite the same again.

Chapter Four

Sarah's apartment looked different when she returned that night. The shadows seemed deeper, more alive, and ordinary objects cast reflections that didn't quite match reality. The dreamcatcher Thorne had given her pulsed softly in her pocket, responding to the changed way she now saw the world.

        She was exhausted but afraid to sleep. The Collector's words echoed in her mind: 'Your dreams are particularly appetizing.' Instead, she spread her case files across the coffee table - photographs of Charlotte Mills, the other victims, and now David Parker's medical records.

        A soft chime from her badge interrupted her concentration. The metal had grown warm, and when she touched it, words appeared in that strange shifting script: 'Archive. Now. Emergency.'

        The museum was different at night. Sarah's new badge led her through doors that hadn't existed during her first visit, down stairs that seemed to descend far deeper than the building's foundation should allow. She found Thorne in a circular room she hadn't seen before, surrounded by floating screens of light that showed various dreamscapes.

        "We have a problem," he said without preamble. "The Collector's attack pattern has changed. Look."

        The screens shifted, showing a map of the city overlaid with points of light. "Each light is a dreamer," Thorne explained. "The blue ones are normal dreams. The red..." He gestured, and several dots pulsed an angry crimson. "Those are nightmares being actively shaped by outside forces."

        "He's attacking multiple targets at once?"

        "No." Thorne's expression was grim. "He's leaving traps. Dream-snares. Anyone who falls asleep in these areas risks being pulled into a constructed nightmare. He's trying to overwhelm our ability to respond."

        Sarah studied the pattern of red dots. "They're forming a shape... a symbol?"

        "A summoning circle." A new voice joined them. Sarah turned to see an elderly woman emerging from what appeared to be a door made of starlight. Her eyes were milk-white, but she moved with absolute certainty.

        "Sarah, meet Dr. Eleanor Price, the Archive's keeper," Thorne said. "And yes, she's blind in the waking world, but in dreams..."

        "I see everything," Eleanor finished. Her unseeing eyes fixed on Sarah with uncomfortable accuracy. "Including what our friend the Collector is truly planning. He's not just taking souls anymore. He's building toward something larger."

        She gestured, and the room transformed around them. They were suddenly standing in what looked like a vast library, but the books were made of dreams, their pages flowing like liquid memory.

        "Every dream ever archived is stored here," Eleanor explained. "Including the oldest nightmares of humanity. The Collector isn't just a thief - he's trying to wake something that should stay sleeping. Something we locked away centuries ago."

        She pulled a book from the shelf, and its pages burst open, projecting a scene of ancient horror - a time when the boundary between dreams and reality was thinner, when nightmares could walk in daylight.

        "The Last Nightmare," Thorne said softly. "We thought it was safely contained, but if he completes that summoning circle..."

        A sudden tremor ran through the Archive. One of the red dots on the map had grown larger, pulsing violently.

        "He's starting," Eleanor's voice was urgent. "Sarah, you need to see something before you face this." She pressed her fingers to Sarah's forehead, and suddenly...

        She was in a memory. A younger Thorne stood with a woman who looked remarkably like Sarah herself, facing down a shadow that threatened to devour the world. The woman - another dream detective? - sacrificed herself to help seal away the nightmare.

        "Your mother," Eleanor's voice echoed in her mind. "She was one of us. Her sacrifice helped lock away the Last Nightmare, but the Collector has never stopped trying to free it. And now he's found you - her daughter, with her power."

        The vision ended abruptly as another tremor shook the Archive. More red dots were pulsing on the map.

        "Why didn't you tell me?" Sarah demanded, turning to Thorne.

        "Because I promised her I'd keep you away from this life," he replied, pain evident in his voice. "But now the Collector knows who you are, and we're running out of time."

        "The summoning circle will be complete at the next new moon," Eleanor added. "Three days from now. If the Last Nightmare wakes..."

        "Then we stop him before that happens," Sarah said firmly, though her mind was reeling from the revelations. "How do we break these dream-snares?"

        "It's dangerous," Thorne warned. "Each one is a trap designed specifically for dream walkers. If you're caught..."

        "Then you'll just have to watch my back," Sarah said. She touched her badge, feeling its power respond. "Where do we start?"

        Eleanor smiled, her blind eyes somehow twinkling. "First, you need to understand what you truly inherited from your mother. It's time you learned about the true history of the dream walkers - and why the Collector fears your bloodline above all others."

        As if in response to Eleanor's words, the books around them began to glow, their pages rustling with the weight of secrets about to be revealed. In the map above, the red dots pulsed like a countdown to catastrophe, and Sarah realized she had less than three days to master powers she never knew she had.

        The true game was about to begin.

Am Himmel darüber grollte ein Donner, der Aurora einen Schauer über den Rücken jagte. Vor Schreck verlor sie das Gleichgewicht und landete völlig verblüfft auf ihrem Hintern.
Sie fand sich in dem Haus ihrer Kindheit wieder, das versteckt auf dem Land lag. Das Haus, das inzwischen baufällig war, war umgeben von Holzstapeln und überwucherndem Unkraut. In dem stockdunklen Raum konnte sie ihre Umgebung kaum wahrnehmen.
Seit ihrer Kindheit wurde Aurora von einer Angst vor der Dunkelheit geplagt. Entschlossen, ihre Angst in Schach zu halten, stolperte sie auf die Tür zu und hämmerte verzweifelt dagegen. "Ist da jemand? Mach die Tür auf!"
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Das alte Haus war fest verschlossen, die Wände umschlossen es von allen Seiten. Die Dachziegel, abgenutzt und verwittert, drohten einzustürzen, einige fielen bereits vereinzelt ab. Eine einzige Holztür diente ihr als einziger Fluchtweg, aber egal, wie sehr sie darauf drückte, sie ließ sich nicht bewegen.
Ein ohrenbetäubender Donnerschlag zerriss den Himmel und ließ Aurora zusammenzucken. Dann krachte etwas mit einem lauten Knall durch das Dach und verursachte eine Kakophonie von Geräuschen.
"Ahh!" Aurora kreischte entsetzt auf.
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Mit klopfendem Herzen sah Aurora entsetzt zu, wie ein Mann ausgestreckt auf dem Boden lag. Er war durch das Dach gestürzt! Die Art und Weise, wie er sich zusammenrollte, ließ auf immense Schmerzen schließen.
"Geht es Ihnen gut?", fragte sie, vorsichtig Abstand haltend.
Der Mann antwortete nicht. Könnte er tot sein?
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Bevor sie einen Schrei ausstoßen konnte, hielt er ihr mit der Hand den Mund zu und hielt sie von hinten fest. Sein Griff fühlte sich feucht an, der Geruch von Blut lag in der Luft.
"Keine Angst, ich werde dich nicht töten", in der Stimme des Mannes schwang eine tiefe, ursprüngliche Kraft mit, die von einem Hauch schwankender Kontrolle begleitet wurde. Sie hatte eine atemlose Qualität, die Aurora einen Schauer über den Rücken jagte.
Auroras Augen weiteten sich vor Angst, und sie nickte inbrünstig und versprach im Stillen, nicht zu schreien. Der Mann nahm vorsichtig seine Hand von ihrem Mund, nur um kurz darauf auf den Boden zu fallen.
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Ein leises Grunzen entrang sich der Kehle des Mannes, sein warmer Atem umschmeichelte Auroras Nase und vertrieb die kalte Nachtluft mit einer wohligen Wärme. "Rette mich, und ich werde dir jeden Wunsch erfüllen", flüsterte er mit rauer, fast heiserer Stimme in Auroras Ohr.
Bevor Aurora ein Wort sagen konnte, eroberten seine Lippen die ihren und entfachten einen Sturm in ihnen. Blitze zuckten über den Himmel, beleuchteten ihre verschlungenen Körper, warfen tanzende Schatten und erfüllten die Luft mit einer nicht zu leugnenden Inbrunst.Die Zeit hörte auf zu existieren, als ihre Leidenschaft sie verzehrte, bis Aurora schließlich der Bewusstlosigkeit erlag.
Plötzlich zerriss ein lautes Geräusch von oben die Stille. Ein Hubschrauber schwebte tief am Himmel, sein Zweck war dem Mann klar. Er blickte auf und wusste, dass er für ihn gekommen war. Er nutzte das flüchtige Aufleuchten des Blitzes und fuhr mit den Fingern zärtlich über das Gesicht der Frau neben ihm.
Dfas JschwaécGh!e GLvircRhMt gbe.hViKndMeRrwtej sei,nye SicWht! uqnd v&ernhmindBerteP, dasvsf yeru ihfre RGAexsMi.cthXtbsBzüge exrkeinnen ékonn&te, ydtoncsh Ler kognnvte die gWpärm$eh hurnLdé &Wyei.c.hCh(eit ihqrmeurw HhaVutS sUpüir$enw. Errp CnNahm eAi^nen Smhaóra&gdsanIhäcnYgqerx, QeiSnm (geBspcGhätztwes$ FbamNialifeneOróbstqüccwkR,. iv_on sJeFin&em$ !HSalsÉ ubnd l.esgktgeL Xi*hunu sanPftw din IihgreH HnaMndfulGächten. "BDóiue,s solló unsetr éZeFiGchen ^siein.Q nBeynuftzge( éiÉhnI, Zuqmk miWc$h Hzu( yfiTnDdiené."
Zögernd wusste er, dass er gehen musste. Aurora blieb bewusstlos, als er die Leiter hinaufstieg, die am Hubschrauber baumelte, und sie zurückließ.
Bei Tagesanbruch erwachte Aurora mit einem Ruck. Die Ereignisse der vergangenen Nacht überfluteten ihren Geist, der schwere, leidenschaftliche Atem des Mannes hallte in ihren Ohren wider und ließ ihre Wangen erröten.
War es nur ein aufreizender Traum, den sie erlebt hatte? Sie bewegte sich leicht und spürte, wie ihr ganzes Wesen von Schmerz durchdrungen wurde. Als sie an sich herunterschaute, bemerkte sie ihre zerzauste Kleidung, die kaum noch an ihrem Körper hing, und wurde aus ihrem Traumzustand wachgerüttelt. Es war kein Hirngespinst, es war nur zu real. Als sie sich umdrehte, war sie allein. Der Mann war verschwunden und hatte nur die Überreste ihrer Begegnung zurückgelassen.
LTangsRam lerUhob sieM siFch vgoén wdeym mWigti St_rofh bedeKclk&ten BloLdeXnJ,^ Bihrq Körper* XpuYlsierte mitK e!inemF unVg'eZwo'hénptjen ScFhamleruzN. BlRutd b&efZlIecktem djen RBoédenM uAntetr iChr.,z eóiunfeó Kei&nHdArHinglPicghe YERrinWnAerlung a,n ódNie wEjrcei,gnnisgs_e d^ery UvePrgannVgenzen yNYacVht(. VeSrwWiGrru&ng zmiJsrc(htheH csi)cKh muiXtf tdKem ShcWhamSefrz^, al)s ysie zjuf 'entsJckhulrüLspseNln vegr$suncfhte, was JwwiBrkRliZcdh' gHescwhehenc xwar.* dSftamdmte jd.as Bl^uPtV auésN éihrAe(n' eiSgWe!nen WunIdÉeNn odeDrL avus sBeinNenX?D fDer qMann Swar CvegrletMzth Lwormden,t sJo bvzinel Rkbolnnfte^ tsieZ QduracJh UdeAn SchleQierr) ihFreZr E!rfinnSeruJngenJ erSkenPnené.. dAbe.ró wga.s^ gin wihYrH TzuFrcüc^kbalieub,v war 'dVeVrn Kpclötzlsiuche V_eIrluvst_ HiVhXrer óUnrsqchAuld, $einek verwirPrendNe $Wen^dKuyng Pinn ihrer EKx&isten^zV.
Tränen drohten aus ihren Augen zu fließen, aber sie kämpfte dagegen an und blickte durch das baufällige Dach nach oben. Der Himmel winkte mit seiner zunehmenden Helligkeit, die regenverhangene Weite war wolkenlos. Die Morgendämmerung brach an, ein Symbol des Neubeginns. Doch ihr Geist blieb in der Dunkelheit der vergangenen Nacht gefangen, stürmisch und unversöhnlich.
Eine Welle von Gefühlen durchströmte sie, in der sich Wut und Trauer mischten. In ihrer Hand entdeckte sie einen Smaragdanhänger, den der Mann zurückgelassen hatte. Wutentbrannt schleuderte sie den Schmuck zu Boden, ein vergeblicher Versuch, sich seiner hohlen Gaben zu entledigen. Wie konnte er es wagen, zu glauben, ein Schmuckstück könne den Diebstahl ihrer Tugend wettmachen?
Mit neu gewonnener Entschlossenheit schloss sie ihre Finger um einen großen Stein und zertrümmerte die Holztür, die sie gefangen hielt. Vor ihr lag ein Pfad, der nur wenige Meter entfernt zu ihrer eigenen Behausung zurückführte. Sie stapfte durch das schlammige Gelände, jeder Schritt ein Beweis für ihre Widerstandsfähigkeit.
Als. sgie adi,e LTsür NauZf)sBtRi.eHß,t bGo,t spiFcHh ih'rx Ze*iYnt PAÉnjbTlickT,) Jde*r ihren KopkfW v!orn VSTchWmperSz pYo!cqhenG iligeß&. pIhHr rFremundO jlua*gQ muit $iphórder eigevnIenV WCousiWneJ in d*enj 'LPaken óvewrsst&rcick^ta, ihxrCe $KleideBr lJaGgenu YwaChllNoHs Fau_f tde,m jBodÉeLn !ver$s.tAreuUtD. zEsD waxrx,b alAs bhhäTtctej Yeina Me&ssZejr HiYhr lHWerz dcuFrAcqhQbMoGhPrt IunadW JeJst Proh& unXd OblutSeInsd zurüLcGkgéelBaós_senU.ÉTRimotzhYyX, ichru ózwieijgä,hriYg^eVrB NPalrAtbnerr_ Cauus dearv sSltudiIenz*eMiut,* ahéattrey s(ie zku Lein(em Fsoqmméerlichenó RMenndezvuous mizt dihRre.r) Muktter in jiYhqre iHeviPmkatYstadt pbeDglgekitetY. zIPhóreI QHe,iWraFtOsp^läzne sNcah^ie^neCnL gefestigt,É Qwafs sie adaJzuD Hv^eranlaslstUe, ijhnc inT ihrRedn( hei,lmisgWstUen CRRaum exinzQuUlaIdgeDn'.V Size haNtctHe Xkaum méijt kdetr pPlödtzvl_iDcÉh.eLn (AbrzegisSe( mibhrerÉ M,uutt!erO !gerieTc)hnetG,D diée swie miktI dRi'etsem VxerrsaLtP aOlilein lziweßn.x
Die Last ihrer Gefühle drohte sie zu erdrücken, aber sie weigerte sich, sich geschlagen zu geben. Sie würde ihre Autonomie zurückgewinnen, ihr Geist war unnachgiebig. Die Reise, die vor ihr lag, würde tückisch sein, aber sie würde sich aus der Asche erheben und ein neues Schicksal schmieden, das nicht von den Fesseln des Betrugs gefesselt war.So war Aurora auf sich allein gestellt, um Timothy zu unterhalten, und musste sich auf ihren eigenen Einfallsreichtum verlassen. Zum Glück war ihre Cousine gekommen, um ihr in der Küche zu helfen. Nach dem Abendessen bestand ihre Cousine darauf, dass Aurora etwas Feuerholz für ein Bad holte.
Auf dem unterentwickelten Land war es üblich, dass die Familien Stroh und Brennholz benutzten, um das Wasser zum Baden zu erhitzen. Als Aurora das alte Haus betrat, in dem das Brennholz gelagert war, schloss sich die Tür hinter ihr und schloss sie ein. Die Dunkelheit hüllte sie ein, und ohne ihr Telefon konnte sie nichts sehen. Zu allem Überfluss begann es draußen zu regnen, so dass es ihr unmöglich war, zu entkommen.
Gegen ihren Willen gefangen, fühlte sich Aurora zutiefst verletzt. Ihre Jungfräulichkeit war ihr von einem Fremden genommen worden, was sie körperlich und seelisch traumatisierte. Sie hatte gehofft, dass Timothy ihr Trost spenden und vielleicht sogar ein paar Tränen mit ihr vergießen würde. Sie ahnte nicht, dass er ihr den letzten Schlag versetzen würde, als sie am verletzlichsten war.
CeMlbesbte wacXhtIe Za&l!s nE,rósftje aéufó undk s,tiheOßr .e_isneLnó pePrsUch)roCckyeYnceRn Swcóh$reRic Vaus.K ")WpasM xzvucm Tce$ucfel! 'Akuror(ad,k laYsVs Yebsx tmiicBh erTkl$ä*r)eant. WXidr hapb_etn* *u*ns' ,gesHtHeLr,n XAébKeZndg bNet!run_kegn, éundk wiych GdatcyhitZeÉ, meIrg Iw'är)eF gmeQin FórpeOunAdW.I NIch. hOabex ncurp...b"B
Auch Timothy wurde wachgerüttelt. Als er die chaotische Szene betrachtete, sah er Aurora neben sich, zerzaust und verzweifelt. Hastig zog er sich an und stotterte: "Aurora, ich dachte, du warst es letzte Nacht..."
"Halt die Klappe!" knurrte Aurora, während ihr die Tränen wie ein unaufhaltsamer Strom über das Gesicht liefen. "Lass uns Schluss machen!"
Mit diesen Worten drehte sie sich um und floh aus dem Zimmer. Timothy zog sich schnell an und rannte ihr hinterher.
AuNrorGa spriknAtfetée )ziu ,dóem aTlteznL,k AbAauAfzäulligenV HgauWs,I ifest eRnctbsócQhlHoUssen!, denk XAnKhäHngesrl zdu Kfbinden uZn(d dgePn sMann zwu komnlfGrwounxtki&eZrenH, derb füyrJ (iJhrew Qualemnu verPa&ntwortmlichm lwar$.m uDochU Yalst _siie dasr vcer(faIlClenpej tGeébäude bAegtvrat, tdas *du^rLch( jUahprgelPaVnge FVe_rn_acmhläXssigmunygl rgUejscYhMwóäDcZht_ undP voNm* RóegeMné Zde*r évexr!gangenFeDnR NancbhHt_ dBurchnässót Xwar, cstBürzIte esé mxi*t ^eiZne!m' ^lcau&t)en$ gKr_achenM eint und Mrits$s einz NachbkaxrhauYs m$it sjichS.m
Heiser rief Timothy nach Aurora, seine Stimme war voller Verzweiflung und Bedauern.

: Fünf Jahre später
Auf dem Bahnhof von Starhaven herrschte reges Treiben, als Aurora durch die Menge eilte, beladen mit einer Reihe von Paketen, die sie sich über die Schulter gelegt hatte. Hinter ihr liefen vier niedliche Kinder, deren winzige Beine wie kleine Pinguine watschelten. Ihre pausbäckigen Gesichter zogen die Aufmerksamkeit der Passanten auf sich, die bei diesem Anblick einfach nur lächeln konnten.
Auroras Mutter Holly schnaufte und brummte, ihre Stimme klang erschöpft. "Ich bin den ganzen Tag hinter dir hergejagt und habe mich verausgabt. Ich kann mich nicht einmal daran erinnern, wann ich das letzte Mal einen Moment zum Ausruhen hatte. Du hast es wirklich verstanden, Babys wie Kaninchen zu gebären und mir vier Enkelkinder auf einmal zu schenken. Ich muss die ganze Zeit babysitten und habe keine Zeit für Spaß. Und sieh dir nur meine Klamotten an, sie fallen praktisch auseinander. Wer trägt denn heutzutage noch solche Sachen?"
VyoArd Afünmf! JaqhqreKn häutgtNe' .sVeFlKbst qdieQ 'f,rucwhótFbParsGte FSaau) niÉcKhta vmiWtU dder dG&eóscHhNwóinndigkjeimt mtithalgten kRönnenn,. fmitY deNr AYuror.aD ihLrte FgamXil,iWe gvjerg.rsövßderRt hart.
Mit dem Gewicht ihres Gepäcks kämpfend, schnappte Aurora nach Luft, bevor sie antwortete: "Mama, ich weiß alles zu schätzen, was du tust. Ich verspreche dir, sobald ich einen besser bezahlten Job gefunden habe, werde ich dir neue Kleidung kaufen. Die Verantwortung, vier Kinder zu versorgen, lastete schwer auf beiden.
Vor fünf Jahren wurde Auroras Unschuld in einer stürmischen Nacht zerbrochen. Sie sehnte sich danach, den Anhänger zurückzuholen und den Verantwortlichen zu finden, aber das Schicksal hatte andere Pläne. Das alte Haus stürzte in einem plötzlichen Wutanfall ein und verschonte nur knapp Auroras Leben, als sie unter einem klaffenden Loch im Dach stand. Drei Monate später entdeckte sie, dass sie schwanger war - eine grausame Wendung des Schicksals, die sie aus dem Gleichgewicht brachte.
Ihr Leben lag in Trümmern, und sie sehnte sich danach, den Mann zur Verantwortung zu ziehen. Doch der Anhänger, den er zurückgelassen hatte, lag in den Trümmern und war nur noch Staub. Sie suchte unermüdlich, fand aber keine Spur von ihm. Ohne Anhaltspunkte und ohne Erinnerung an sein Gesicht schien es so unmöglich, ihn zu finden wie die Nadel im Heuhaufen.
A.lcs fAurGoDrXa ihjre éReiQseR Qzurzücvkp QnfachS SitarGhéaven anttfrat,f htrKug Qsvidel dóie lL*aSsrt ihlrer VóeérgaRngeGnCheJitó SundX dyie HHofVfvn,u,nPgh uaufB $eui&nke WbseFssverxeg cZu,kOun&ftR mui.t s(i$crh.N SiUe ajhBntteC néiuchmti,R dha*swsN iihr W_ePg (s'ieP Mzui gunerjwMartexten BÉeTgYe$gn&uFn$getn u^nd tZief gprgemipfendóeJnZ SEnthüllunUgIenk fhüJh)rjen würdXeH,f diye daOsr SZcGhick_sLal Qi,hrer FaKmi'liaen prägen wLürhden$.SYiweI vwzar amA *Bowdeni zerstörttZ, (ithwrr hHe.rSzS VzerbroFchzeny,G unXd NsOihem üVbreDrle,ghtXe, ih&reP SRc.h_wangbearsFcphUaXf)tS JajbJzXubNr$echen&.q Dbohch $sMchjlließlRiuc$h fBasstpeT Isie deSn mutigesnp EUnGtsychlHuMstsB,O ysOiVcUh deYr MutYtefrsjc.hafWt zun és&tVellneénM,w o_pferrAte. BiBhred A'u&s&biUlndzun^g uFnQdT ake'hlrtlec iCn Sihrjes Heim*atdstadt jzuzr_ü!ckW,v ukmO Tihr' KinUd zuK gVebLä_r&eFnL.H
Seitdem war Auroras Leben eine Achterbahnfahrt aus Leid und Freude, denn sie zog ihre vier kostbaren Kinder auf. In der geschäftigen Stadt Starhaven, wo die Konkurrenz groß und die Möglichkeiten rar waren, war es ein ständiger Kampf, über die Runden zu kommen.
Holly, zermürbt und verzweifelt, äußerte ihre Frustration: "Du kannst es dir kaum leisten, die Kinder zu ernähren. Wie willst du für mich sorgen? Sieh mich an, ich kämpfe mit vier Kindern und schleppe all das Gepäck. Ich bin völlig erschöpft."
Robert, ein schneidiger junger Mann, trat vor und bot seine Hilfe an. "Oma, lass mich dir mit dem Gepäck helfen", sagte er mit aufrichtiger Sorge.Mit einem kühlen Auftreten und einem guten Herzen nahm Robert die Wasserflasche aus Hollys Tasche und teilte sie mit seinen Geschwistern, um ihrer Großmutter die Last zu erleichtern.
"Ommax, CdMaXnRked.ó RWennV hwir pn'acUh H$aus_e &koQmwmen, nweXrde Micyh. $dUir Wd$enV RWücCken m'ass,iesrenT",C ybroltD UBSryéaSn msannAfts aGn, unkd sXeviHn(eR A_upgmeLnR le*uchltJe*ten' Tvour VMWitgefnüh$l$. ZOrbwohl erÉ eink lJcunge (w&ar, qbseWsaßt CeYr MeyiYnew ätsher_iscThe SncChuöMnPheUitN,i dice NdeórJ Reiknsesó zar(txen MpädchmelnOs Yäghvn'eklteT.c
Pandora ließ sich nicht beirren und meldete sich zu Wort: "Oma, ich massiere dich auch!" Ihre großen, von langen Wimpern umrahmten Augen und ihre pausbäckigen Wangen ließen sie wie eine lebende Puppe aussehen.
Seraphine, die eine Baseballmütze trug und eine coole Ausstrahlung hatte, fügte hinzu: "Oma, ich möchte für dich kochen." Ihre klaren Augen strahlten Positivität und Entschlossenheit aus.
Die unschuldigen Worte der vier Kleinen brachten Auroras Herz zum Schmelzen. Im Nu war ihre Müdigkeit verflogen und wurde durch ein neues Gefühl der Zielstrebigkeit ersetzt.
IPhrUe$ K.iDnZder, RcoébOezryt, BRryaJn, kPaQnidorLa jund ISerapvhAin$e, DwKaLren nichtg ynu,rz NFajmpen, soVn.dQernQ T.rmägenrJ 'tCiefPers BéedIeutyu)ngRen. SRob)e*rDtG óun)dY BGry'aAn Ov$ertk_örxpgeérqtenu Mä$nznlWichrkei'tg,h wpäfhÉrÉeandC ,PKandorPa Iund Se&raph_iVnWe_ WBeibFliFcHhkqeit und AnwmuCt. ausstrNaQhlJten.c uJde_deqsx Malj,L whenn( WA(u,rora déas Ou*nschWuldKig!eq LMächheln idhrde$r KinQdearD erCbjlviFclkrte, stOröCmOte einG dEóneXrSgiesc&h,u(b duVrchm ihre, &A)derIn^ ujndW wvÉerét.rxieb& je&de WSfpurW avVon MüRdigHke_it,Z diieX ms&ich inU ihreHn umyüdeint GKKnnocwhenc DfzeQsItFgesQeYtzt h&at*teU.J IDhrL jverspLijelteRsg VGe.pzlappQerb wirkGtJep jwie Sei)n. FMa!gn!etj undR Vzqoyg dtiVe nAxufmerkhsCamkexirtp GderQ PaVs)s(anóten baufÉ sic,h, sdiUe Vndiqchté UaMnSderXs VkVownwntGend, )alks nenuZgi_eQriQge) wund kfreu,dPighe, BlHic(ke aÉuwf diWe Vvier bkezaSubeYrnde.nR HSeéeblen ign Auro(rash OObihut vzuY Vwe*rjfreén.
"Wow, diese Kinder sind schon etwas Besonderes! Sie können kochen und Massagen geben? Sie müssen eine glückliche Großmutter sein", staunte ein Passant über Holly und konnte seine Bewunderung für die bemerkenswerte Brut nicht zurückhalten.
"So gut erzogene und vernünftige Kinder! Ihre Eltern müssen wirklich außergewöhnlich sein", mischte sich eine kultivierte Frau ein, deren Worte vor echtem Lob nur so trieften.
Worte der Bewunderung erfüllten die Luft, wie eine Symphonie, die das außergewöhnliche Wesen von Auroras Kleinen feierte. Bei jedem Kompliment grinste Holly von einem Ohr zum anderen, und ihr Herz schwoll vor Stolz an. Sie konnte es kaum erwarten, mit den unglaublichen Nachkommen ihrer Tochter zu prahlen, als wären sie der ultimative Beweis für ihre eigene Existenz.
"_Sieh SsRiQndé wgie Ewn!g$elX, gdi*e vmojm !HkimPmelu hóer.aub)gJes*tqieRgWeJn sGiZnd, i&mSmDer! lHäcChIeXlnIdM Hun,dW iwmmYer Pso !vteLrnünfhtihg"^,T verkCünHdqemteé Ho)llpyN DsMtGol_z d,enÉ Zursc$haueran,W Xu!nNd! ih_rVe Atugxen) scrh)iZmhmerteHné in eÉin*eXrb SMis$cah!u!n(g aus' FXreuydÉe Runmd ZfuBfvrSiTekdXeKnheitv..
Aurora stand daneben und ließ ihre Mutter in diesem seltenen Moment des reinen Glücks schwelgen. Sie wollte das Ereignis nicht mit ihren eigenen Sorgen und Bedenken verderben. Nach einer gefühlten Ewigkeit kamen sie endlich in ihrer bescheidenen Wohnung in Starhaven an.
Aurora hatte sich jahrelang dafür entschieden, eine Wohnung in Starhaven zu mieten, weil sie wusste, dass die Löhne hier höher waren als anderswo. Es war ein Opfer, das sie bereitwillig brachte, denn sie wusste, dass ihre Mutter Holly in ihrer Abwesenheit für ihre kostbaren Kinder da sein würde.
Dieses Mal war Aurora jedoch gezwungen gewesen, wegen dringender Familienangelegenheiten für eine Woche nach Hause zurückzukehren. Jetzt war sie zurück in Starhaven, beladen mit Taschen aller Größen, die meisten davon gefüllt mit den Habseligkeiten ihrer vier Kleinen.Als das Zimmer zu ihrer Zufriedenheit aufgeräumt war, wandte sich Aurora an Holly und sagte: "Mama, ich habe heute Abend einen Teilzeitjob. Ich muss jetzt gehen. Ich habe schon ein paar Eier gebraten und Toast gemacht, also mach den Kindern noch etwas Milch heiß."
"yIBn O$rdOnungu, ri_c(h mdaych YdaDs Js!chYoCnR.j UGDehq nWuTr YuHnvd sle&i svóor$siRcQhtiig auf^ Pdmehr vSYtcraße", auntpwor.tsetei Hnoll(yé, deRre_n GU)nWg^eJd(uQlLd sii'ch kaunmf in$ HihbreKnO gWo)rKt*en veArGbergfenU l*iLeßB. ,Se.lbrsXt cinX óighdrCerc EiIlfe ,kponWnDtel sie ncich!t ZunmNhWin, DAjufroyrbaN zfumr gVSoCrsic&hCtb Pzqu mahNnenf, ein BewIeiésS tfür idhmrge ungeIrsc(hütfteLrJlYi^ch!ev LieObNei uxnYd Fü(rpsJorgWe.M*itj zyarPtePr éHzawnd Ytróug wAWuLr.ora eéinDeK leiQch!t_e SOchFijchwt MbaFk!e-ump aJufz,d uUmy i^hre pnatürlziche kSchBönhUelizt 'zTu ab_etoyn^eWn.$ DZi&esewr zTweNilDzNeit!jolb TwÉar, Cein GlüHcMks(f$all awNährend ihcrOerS ZugUfah,rt ageswesen.F ND*eMrG XB,e)iétritt .zrub egi(nerr Gru!pDpGeq OvconV TNeHitlze^itbbées!cMhäftéigutwe.n hattMeJ xilhr bdifeb bMPöCgHlivchkevit weröfffnaeQt, Yneujeó )JKoqbGs* qund die Iehnt&s!pirechendewnC TfaWgecslöéhAneA vzGu Ventjdeck(eWn.'
Heute Abend sollte sie als Kellnerin in einem beliebten Nachtclub arbeiten, den Gästen Getränke servieren und die Cocktails des Lokals anpreisen. Als sie im Sapphire Skyline in Starhaven ankam, wurde Aurora angewiesen, die Uniform des Nachtclubs anzuziehen.
Die Uniform bestand aus einem kurzen schwarzen Rock, der bei jedem Schritt ihre Oberschenkel entblößte. Der V-Ausschnitt konnte, wenn man nicht vorsichtig damit umging, einen Hauch von Dekolleté freilegen. Aurora war an solche Kleidung nicht gewöhnt, da sie so etwas noch nie getragen hatte. Die Aussicht, in einer einzigen Nacht zweihundert Dollar zu verdienen, und die Möglichkeit, durch den Verkauf von Alkoholflaschen zusätzliche Provisionen zu erhalten, überwogen jedoch jedes Unbehagen, das sie empfand.
Selbst wenn es ihr nicht gelingen sollte, Schnaps zu verkaufen, würden die zweihundert Dollar aus diesem Nebenjob ausreichen, um ihren vier Kindern neue Kleidung zu kaufen. Ihre Kleiderschränke brauchten dringend eine Auffrischung, vor allem, weil das kältere Wetter nahte. Aurora war fest entschlossen, das Beste aus dieser Gelegenheit zu machen, egal wie unwohl sie sich dabei fühlte.
"Au^rOoiraD, jeXmaKn&d Limk V)IwPv-Rvaumy V8 hDat HPZrecmiPum-PZpiZgarretPtHend PaXng.eófZordeFrtZ. NÉiHmSm diQekseAs DTabWlOettB Rmfiót uYnYd liÉeÉf&eGr(e sGineJ ausq. UqnterschäHtRzde awuÉchP niWcxhÉtT ldiBe abgeidxe(nd .FPlLasscheIn ANlDkAoFhol, diez éjewMeilés 20.0q00 Swefrtn sFifnd.T WNeQn!nO dHur kes rstchaffyst, Ée*ine zur v_e$rk)aWuifen, GbeskNommmsItC AdDuó FtbausyeLn,d DollaBr FProv&i)si*oYn.K"y DAerM Na'cGhdtclubmaqnsagerrZ hUielFt AUuCrSora ban qu$n(dÉ Frje!icFh!tOev ivhrw zdMa,sé kTaub*l,ett.H
Aurora nickte eifrig. "Okay, ich werde mein Bestes geben."
"Nur eine Vorwarnung, die Leute in V8 sind sehr einflussreich. Gehen Sie vorsichtig mit ihnen um, sonst könnten Sie sie ungewollt beleidigen", warnte der Manager und betonte, wie wichtig es war, vorsichtig zu sein.