Chapter Text
It was a regular spring day when I went missing. My favorite season— the way the gentle, flowery breeze kissed my skin, how the smiles of my community made a reappearance as the perpetual grey of winter finally disappeared, the flavor returning to all my favorite produce. I cherished this comfort each year, the warmth of the sun allowing me to forgive the numbing chill of the past winter, always grateful to make it out alive. A bit dramatic, I suppose.
The real focal point of spring, however, was always my annual international trip. I had chosen to visit Cologne, Germany that year. By God I was so excited, my dreams (and daydreams) were occupied by rivers and museums and green grass and delicious beer. I had a lengthy itinerary. Two weeks jam-packed with activities. I could hardly wait.
The traveling itself went fairly smoothly. My plane boarded and landed on time, I didn’t forget to pack anything, and I had some very expensive yet delicious drinks before boarding. An airport staple, of course. I had no reason to suspect anything bad might happen. Although I had planned to stay at a hostel to save money, I had stayed in plenty of them before, in far more “dangerous” countries like Thailand and the USA, and nothing bad had ever happened (besides a missing toothbrush. Odd.)
How naive and privileged I was to trust foreign lands without a care in the world, barely even learning the local language before most trips. Not Germany, though. I knew quite a bit of German, not necessarily enough to fool anyone, but I assumed I was set up for success, maybe I’d even make friends with a few locals. Stupid, and far too optimistic.
My plane landed in the evening of my first night. Everything seemed so beautiful to me, just like the pictures. I wish I had spent more time looking around, however, hunger and weariness clawed at my body, and I caved. Maybe if I had given myself just twenty more minutes to explore, I could’ve avoided my terrible fate.
I had stumbled into the first bar I found, hoping to try some delicious beer and shitty local bar food, for the authentic experience, of course. It was particularly rowdy for a Tuesday night, loud music, drunk old men shouting at each other, and the smell of stale beer and cigarettes assaulted my senses, but I was too stubborn to look for another place considering how loudly my belly was growling at me.
As I approached the bar, I noticed there was only one seat left, in between a chatty older woman and a huge beast of a man, bigger than anyone I’ve ever seen in my life, but I tried my best not to judge a book by its cover and sat down anyway, figuring he would just ignore me. My first mistake. Before I could even order a drink, the enormous man attempted to get my attention. “Hello,” he called out to me. Strange. I had always heard that Germans aren’t very friendly. I curtly returned the gesture, hoping this terrifying stranger would get the hint. I assumed incorrectly. I could hear him trying to carry on a conversation with me, but the loud atmosphere of the bar, my terrible gut feeling about this overly-friendly stranger, and my neglected German skills made it impossible to make out what he was saying to me, so I simply ignored him.
I was determined to be brave tonight, alone in a foreign country is a perfect space to practice your courage anyways. I attempted to chat with the bartender, who was simply too busy to placate me. I had no luck with the woman, either. She was busy gossiping about her son’s new wife, telling her companion how the girl was lazy and unfit for a man like her son. Eyeroll.
The large man on the other side of me must’ve spotted the Canada pin on my bag, because he started speaking English after he was getting nowhere with German. “What is your name?”, he hollered over the noises of the bar, loudly enough that I could no longer pretend I didn’t hear him. My heart started racing, maybe this man is a scammer? Can he tell I’m a foreigner? I pondered this anxiously, before deciding that maybe I’m just overreacting, and that being a huge person doesn’t necessarily have any morals attached to it. “My name is uh, Alex,” I responded nervously, making up a false name just to be safe. A simple, “Pretty,” leaves his mouth. Not a very charismatic man, it seemed back then. Now that I think about it— he mumbled a false name in response as well. At the time I thought he was just dumb— definitely prejudice on my part— what kind of idiot would name a child Kevin in Germany? I should’ve known better.
Anyways, I was getting more uncomfortable by the second. This “Kevin” would not leave me alone, would not take any hints, and seemed to loom over me like a skyscraper, even while seated, so I couldn’t steel my nerves to ask him directly to leave me alone. I refused to look at him, yet I could feel his eyes trying to burn a hole through me. Something was seriously wrong with this man. Why was he asking such invasive questions to a stranger? Why does he want to know where I’m from, and where I’m staying, and if I have any friends with me? Obviously, I lied about it all. I might’ve been stupid, but not suicidal.
The moment the bartender served my beer, I chugged it like it was water. As the beer dripped down my chin while I sucked down the bitter liquid, I felt the energy shift, as if he finally understood that I was uncomfortable and trying to leave. I didn’t even wait for my food. I made up some bullshit excuse for the intrusive stranger and took off at a very quick walking pace, almost a jog, going as fast as I could without attracting unnecessary attention to myself, heading for the hostel I was staying at for the night.
As my body glided across the pavement, I couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that man inspired in my gut, the way his gaze made my skin crawl, even though I didn’t dare look at him directly, I could feel it like a spider crawling across my skin, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I didn’t even glance at him really, though from the corner of my eyes I could tell his face was obscured by something, whether that was just a shadow or a mask, it didn’t matter, it was still creepy and out of place. His voice, too, was strange, rather high-pitched for such a large man, and he barely had an accent when speaking English. In my travels, I only really noticed this with a few groups; the upper class, nomads, and international workers like the military and diplomats, though I could hardly see such a strange man being very diplomatic. Rapey would be a better word.
Definitely military or some entitled rich man. These words sprang into my mind, caused me to giggle a bit as I ran, and made me lose focus on my surroundings, so when I heard a man’s voice shout “Alex!” down the street, I didn’t realize he was talking to me. I didn’t realize the danger I was in. So, distracted and betrayed by my own mind, I kept speed-walking my way to the hostel, just three blocks away now.
Thump thump thump…
Thump thump thump…
Thump thump thump…
When I finally noticed the noises emanating from behind me, and remembered why I was running away from that bar in the first place, my blood turned to ice. A quick glance to my rear reveals a small bear running after me, no, a man. The man. The creep from the bar. I did my best to pick up my pace and call for help, but my lungs were exhausted from running at full capacity. No sound left my lips. No matter how hard I tried to run, that bastard was faster and started gaining ground very quickly. In a desperate move, I threw my bag on the ground, still foolishly hoping he was a thief or scammer just out for my wallet.
I didn’t look back, not even once. Perhaps too terrified to confirm my worst fears, a desperate attempt to protect my already fragile nervous system. Gradually, the terrifying footsteps behind me stopped, and I rounded the corner to the hostel. I darted inside, taking deep breaths once I passed the threshold. The staff looked at me like I was crazy, but I was too shaken to care. “T-there’s a man chasing me, he…” I stammered, trying desperately to get the words out, but the adrenaline was seizing the words in my throat, stopping me from communicating effectively.
The employee, probably used to crazies, simply sighed in annoyance and uttered one word, “Deutsch?”. Great, she can’t speak English. Who works in tourism yet can’t speak English? Looking back on it now, she could definitely speak English. Probably assumed I was some rude American trying to cause trouble, thus giving me a hard time.
I was just so frazzled I couldn’t possibly try to speak German if I tried. The blood pumping through my ears made it so difficult to hear, and the sudden physical exertion made me far too dizzy to think clearly. My brain was essentially full of cotton balls. The huge beer I chugged certainly didn’t help. I shook my head and reached for my bag to grab my passport and cash so I could convince her to give me a bed for the night. Stupid, stupid woman. My bag was gone. I threw it at that pervert like a treat for a dog. There I was, looking crazy, unable to speak the language I’d been learning for years, no money, no identification, nothing that could help me.
Understandably, she threw me out. Alone on the streets with nothing but a crazed man after me and a cell phone with no service. I retraced my steps, stupidly returning to the area I dropped my bag. It was obviously nowhere to be found. With no money, no passport, not even a phone charger, I needed a safe place to hide for the night.
I walked and walked and walked, eventually finding a bridge. The one I’d seen online, the one I’d been so excited to take pictures of just this morning, was now haunting me like a monument to my naïveté. Not necessarily a good place to hide from sight, but I wasn’t planning on sleeping, anyways, and I figured I’d lost that giant freak. Maybe all he really did want was my money.
I figured I’d wait until morning to ask someone for directions to the nearest Canadian embassy, if this city even has one. Definitely should’ve looked that up before I left, but like I said, I was very naive back then.
If you’re reading this, honey, you already know that I didn’t make it that far. You didn’t even let me have one more sunrise before you took everything from me.
I made a thousand mistakes that night. Why didn’t I ask the woman at the hostel to call the police, or at least ask for directions to the police station? Why didn’t I keep walking? Why didn’t I stay in the safety of the bar? Why didn’t I look for some wifi to leach off of so I could tell my loved ones what was happening? Why did I fall asleep? All I had to do was keep my eyes open. Why, why did I fall asleep so easily?