Chapter 1: Abandoned

He was tired, but travelling late this weekend was definitely preferable to sitting in a train full of drunk football fans for three hours. As his bad luck would have it, today the home town club had played FC Cologne and incidentally Cologne was where he was headed as well. Four hours of trying to avoid being accosted by drunk-out-of-their-mind hooligans was simply not his idea of fun, especially when you had to pay a 100 Euro fare for the privilege.

Those home games of Hannover 96 were a pain in the back side. As if the home fans weren't bad enough, the visiting teams always came with a whole army of 'supporters' who tried their utmost to reverse human evolution. Seriously, what was the point in travelling halfway across the country, just to miss half the game because you were already sodding drunk before kick-off? And even worse, whatever side lost, took their frustration out on people who didn't care about the bloody game in the first place. That's why he had waited until a few hours after the game to take the last Intercity Express to Cologne, hopefully undisturbed.

Dragging his trolley bag or 'Heel-Porsche', as they were colloquially named, along he made his way to the designated smoker's area. The state had done its utmost to criminalize smokers, despite making copious amounts of tobacco tax off them, so a small five-by-five meters area at the far end of the platform was the only place where one could smoke without getting nicked.

It was a point of many discussions with his parents. Granted, he wasn't exactly proud of having started smoking a year ago, hoping that it would 'make him cool' and stop the incessant bullying he was subjected to as the class brain. While it had sort of worked, the bullies, obviously happy that they had managed to corrupt the goody-two-shoes bookish nerd, had backed off, he had now his parents constantly on his case and he couldn't go a day without smoking at least a few fags. He needed to look into way to stop that habit.

He inhaled the smoke of his cigarette looking out over the city. Yes, there were many houses around, but at nine-thirty in the evening it was hard to believe that this place was home to half a million people. Except for a few stragglers the platform was practically empty. The sun had long started to set and the sky was a dark blue canvas with dark grey intermittent clouds painted on it. In the distance the beacon light of a plane flashed as the craft hurtled down the glide scope towards Langenhagen airport.

As he puffed another small cloud of smoke from his lungs he heard someone sobbing in the distance. First it was hard to make out from where it was coming, but soon he'd come to the conclusion that the sound originated from even further down the long platform and he already was well past the spot where the train would stop. Nobody in his right mind would go that far down the platform unless one of those ridiculously long triple traction trains was arriving and those didn't appear more than once or twice a year.

He flicked the half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray and went to investigate the sound. Since he was already close to the end of the platform he didn't have to walk very far until he saw a young girl sitting on the ground, her back leaning against a pillar that held the platform roof. She was about his age, with long blond hair.

Despite the fact that he was standing right in front of her, the girl didn't seem to recognize him. She wore a light summer dress that had become dirty from her sitting on the ground and even though her crying was distorting her face he could see that she was very beautiful. Her eyes were hidden behind ridiculous dark sunglasses, which appeared somewhat misplaced that late in the evening, but then he saw the yellow armband with the three black dots on it – the girl was blind.

He crouched down in front of her and spoke softly. "Don't be alarmed. I mean no harm."

She flinched despite his best efforts, but quickly composed herself. Her hands ventured forward in search of what was in front of her. He had no idea how to deal with a blind person. Following an impulse the young man gently grabbed her wrists and directed her hands to his face. He closed his eyes as her fingertips glided across his features.

She started to cry even harder.

"I thought nobody would help me," she lamented. "I've been here for hours and nobody came. Please, help me."

"Of course I'll help you," he said. "Can you stand?"

She nodded. He grabbed her hand and helped her stand up.

"What happened?"

"There were people," she said, still sobbing. "They were loud and drunk. They kicked away my white cane, shoved me around and stole my luggage, my wallet. A few of them dragged me here. I don't know where I am, I didn't find the way back. I only lost my sight two years ... I didn't ... I couldn't ... and nobody was helping..."

Her sobs got harder and harder and for lack of better idea he gathered her in his arms. She hugged him back tightly and he gently rocked her as she cried. It felt good to hold her, but he shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind. She was a girl in distress, he shouldn't think about his own feelings. For many minutes they stood in close embrace until she had composed herself, at least somewhat.

"How do I guide you?" he asked softly. "I'm afraid I've not got any experience with that."

"Can you give me your arm?"

He put his hand on his hip and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Like that?"

She smiled faintly. It felt a bit strange seeing that she was 'looking' past his face, but then, how should a blind person know where his face was exactly?

"What about you, don't you have any luggage?" she asked when they started walking.

"I'll leave that here," he snorted. "Either they'll think it's a bomb and blow it up, or if anyone's so stupid to steal it, he'll have to keep it as a punishment."

She laughed softly and his heart melted. It was the sweetest sound he'd heard in his life. They reached the middle of the platform.

"Attention, rolling stairs," he said. "three, two, one, now..."

She did a step forward and they started to travel downwards. Since he didn't know when to start the countdown for getting off safely, he just lifted her up and stepped off, eliciting a small giggle from her.

"You live here in Hannover?" he asked?

"Hemmingen, Berlin street. We moved here a year ago."

"Okay, I'm gonna take you home," he promised and she smiled again. It was a magnificent sight. Guiding her out onto the Ernst-August Square, he hailed a taxi and helped her get settled. Walking around, he got in on the other side and sat down next to her, letting the girl, her name was Andrea, tell the driver where to go exactly.

After a while, he noticed that her hand was searching for his and he sheepishly took it in his. She smiled, which was a beautiful sight, but he still needed to get used to the fact that she was facing somewhere else. With a seeing person one was used to be looked in the face, which she of course couldn't do.

It felt good to hold her hand. He wasn't exactly a basketball player, but even in comparison to his medium build, her hands appeared somewhat small and fragile. But they were soft, definitely soft, and very pleasant to hold.

In a way, he was almost disappointed when they arrived at her place, but seeing the relieved expression on her face, he felt guilty for having such thoughts. As he helped her out of the car, he saw the house with the number she'd told the taxi driver. There was no doubt that she didn't exactly come from a poor family, considering how big the thing was.

After paying the taxi driver he guided her to the front door and she handed him a key to open it. It felt somewhat weird, opening the house of someone he didn't know. They walked in and a large man came to meet them. Seeing Andrea and the dishevelled state she was in, his face took on an expression of alarm.