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Very tenderly I touched the warm skin of her reddish cheeks. I took my time inspecting this innocent thing. Watched intently as she reacted to me and it was fascinating how calm she remained, although her shaking hands and rapidly heaving chest told me just how frightened she seemed.

She kept her eyes closed as if she wanted to hide something from me, but for me one look at a stranger was enough for me and I knew exactly who was standing in front of me. I had to learn that early on.

I let my irises wander briefly over the discreet neckline of her light summer dress before I pointed them to the desk next to us and only hesitantly removed my hand from her cheek.

A red scented candle caught my eye, further confirming my suspicions about her. She was pure, gentle and certainly a kind-hearted person. Certainly also too trustworthy, because someone with skepticism would never have thought of opening the front door at night in such a bad area as here.

But she did it and let me do it. Should I get rid of her now as a witness?

Actually yes, because that's how I always acted, but something in me already knew that I couldn't harm this butterfly.

"I'm sorry," she pulled me out of my thoughts with her slightly panicky voice and I watched her with amusement as she frantically bent down for the towel and handed it to me again.

"You're not from here," I assumed and immediately she looked at me apologetically with her bluish eyes. It wasn't really blue that I seemed to lose myself in. It was a mix. A mixture of the sky showing only its most beautiful side on a sunny day, but also reflecting the pristine forest with its green colour. This mixture allowed one to dreamily lose oneself in them.

She didn't reply to my suggestion, which in the end really irritated me, because who would leave me out in the rain or risk making me feel uncomfortable or misunderstood...

No one but her... The butterfly that I would have loved to punish, but I didn't.

I slowly pulled my gaze away from her anxious face and looked down at the white towel she was still bravely holding out to me as if she were waiting. Waiting to see if I would forgive her mistake.

"Germany?" I tried to find out more about her and took the towel at the same moment, which made her finally start breathing again and nodded in agreement. "The land of punctual businessmen."

She probably didn't understand what I meant by that, because very slightly, almost imperceptibly, she tilted her head and seemed to think about my sentence. A sign that she was probably a person who wanted to have understanding for others and their statements.

With the towel in my hand, I reluctantly turned my back on her and pressed it to my open gunshot wound, making me wince in pain and bit my lip. I didn't want her to see me like that. So weak and hurt. That shouldn't be my first impression of her.

Bad enough that I already had to threaten her with a gun, but she still hadn't understood that I was someone who had to be obeyed without question.

But now she knew... At least I hoped so.

"Is there anything else I can do?"

With a slow movement, I turned my face slightly in her direction and studied the expression on her face, because while I was the best at reading other people right off the bat, she was making herself an unsolvable mystery to me.

While a few seconds ago I was still firmly convinced that she would simply feel fear and panic, I just heard another feeling very precisely in her delicate voice.

Compassion...

A look at her books and a quick appraisal of her decorative items was enough for me, which made it clear to me that she was very interested in other people. Her collection of books on the human psyche, which even to my amazement were arranged alphabetically, showed this. So also a mindful, orderly person.

But what I still couldn't get my head around was that she showed sympathy for someone who threatened her.

Shouldn't she just frantically wait for me to leave and then call the police like single women did after a stranger had broken into their house?

But she didn't... She wanted to help, and not because I was pointing a gun at her. no Because she felt obligated to... Committed to helping others, which again revealed something of her to me.

"You're a psychologist?" my dark voice broke the tense silence and I immediately pulled the blood-soaked towel from my arm to turn to face her with a questioning expression.

"Therapist," she whispered, barely audible, and then bent down to the floor again to take the pack of pills even a step closer to me.

This time I was the one who backed away because I wasn't used to this.

Women were either scared of me or they wanted my money and my body. But now and here my body was injured and this woman in front of me could hardly know how much wealth I possessed. I could still see fear in the depths of her irises, but not enough to accuse her of feeling compelled to help me.

"Two should be enough," she said calmly and relaxed, and opened the small, orange box to nervously put two of these pills in her hand before she suddenly wanted to grab my hand, but I pulled it back so quickly that she looked at me in amazement.

"I'll do it myself," I tried to sound menacing, ignoring the pills in her hand to deftly grab the can from her other.

Now that I was sane and no longer fascinated by her eyes, she finally got the reaction I wanted.

She stepped back, albeit with slow, cautious steps, but she did, and it brought me a triumphant grin that wide-eyed at her.

"I'll smoke a cigarette and then I'll be gone," I told her as I leaned my hips against the table and dug my cigarettes out of my pocket. She was now standing directly opposite me with her back against the wall and only nodded in agreement, so that I took my eyes off her again and lit a fag.