prolog
The first time I saw Charly when I wanted to help my mother in the hospital again. I was just walking in the door when I saw a policeman. That was not unusual, because it often happened that some shot or otherwise injured police officers were brought in. But a boy was handcuffed next to the policeman. His long black hair was covered in blood. He seemed to have a pretty bad wound on his head, because the blood ran incessantly and, as he was hunched over, dripped onto his torn T-shirt. All in one ... he looked pretty terrible.
I went up to the policeman, who was absent-mindedly looking at the ceiling, and asked if there was any way I could help.
"Yeah, I think so. Couldn't you maybe get some doctor?"
"I'll see if something can be done."
I disappeared into the room where my mother, Ms. Dr. Lübeck, always used to sit down when there were no rounds to be taken.This time, too, she sat here and greeted me warmly.
"Good afternoon my dear, how are you?
"All right, mom. You, there's a boy out there. Probably lacerated or something like that."
I felt like a doctor, but before I could think about what 'laceration' means in Latin, my mother rushed out of the room and I followed.
The boy was still sitting there as before and the policeman was looking at the ceiling again. What did he find so interesting about it? My mother didn't seem to be asking herself this question because she went straight to the boy who, like the policeman, jumped up in shock, but knew how to control himself better.
Now, for the first time, I saw the boy's face. He had dark, sad-looking eyes, where with the right one you didn't know where he was looking. A small scar ran from the forehead to the right cheek. The right half of his face seemed to be pretty defective. My mother seemed pretty scared."How did this happen?" she asked the policeman.
"He fought," replied the indifferent.
"What's his name?" she asked further.
"Charly."
"And further?" my mother was getting impatient.
"What do I know?" Said the policeman, annoyed.
My mother looked at him in astonishment and I didn't have to have made a witty face either, but neither of us asked further.
“We'll wash out his wound first,” she said, turning to me. But before we could even take a step, the through door was torn open with such force that one could only wonder why it didn't go off its hinges. And who came rushing in, scared of eight eyes?
A cop, of course!
Except for doctors, police officers are the most hectic people there are.
The boy (or should better say Charly now) was the first to stare in front of him again.
"Hello, my name is Hawley. Are you a doctor here?"
"Yes, Ms. Dr. Lübeck.And this is my daughter Mayra. "Mutti introduces us.
"I hope he didn't cause you any trouble?" he asked, pointing to Charly.
"No, I've only known him for five minutes."
"That's enough for him to completely upset you. Well, did we fight again?" Hawley turned to Charly in a mocking tone.
"Why us? After all, I messed with these assholes and not you!" he replied defiantly. "Please excuse his expression. He can't help it." Hawley turned to my mother.
"Please moderate your expression!" he then barked at Charly.
"Stop yelling at him, you won't change anything."
My mother washed Charly's head wound and also took care of his other injuries. Charly let it all go through without will, but you could see that he didn't like it that much.
When he was done, Hawley said to him: "So, now get out of here!"Charly didn't have to be told twice and disappeared.