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At the age of twentytwo you should know how life goes. On the contrary, you will never know, if you can't live the right way. The fault is in the basics. My home is pretty - how should I say? - akward. Beating is a daily activity, I am the coward, but I couln't go away as I wished. To much pain and the future with the question, where should I am living then, let me stay at home to be the punchingbag.
At work I am the worker for all needed things. My boss asks after very curious stuff, like a coffee with a lot of white cream. As I am depending on the money, I must fullfil his orders. Otherwise I am good as dead, if I bring no money home. My other coworkers like to harass me in every situation, like in the moment. I should prepare a meeting, which needed more chairs, food and drinks. It is always the same. So Mr. Smith comes into the room to see, if it is all prepared. As he is finding no fault, he can't give me a speech of how a misinvestion I am being. His hand pushes accidently a bottle to the ground and complains about it. Time knows the best opportunity to beat me more, as the boss comes in.
"Olivia, clean the floor. We are not at a wild party to break bottles onto the ground." He doesn't even know, who smashed the glass, but I am the living victim of all done faults. Excuse my self sympathy, but it is the only thing I am good at.
As I clean the floor, I get punished on my back. My hands want to support my falling weight, but I can't hold it against the sharp, broken pieces. So in the following part my hands are bleeding like a rushing waterfall. For sure you can tell me to bind my wounds, but before I can care about them, my work must be done. On the other side my brain says to let Mr. Smith go away, because he doesn't know any better. Maybe he is the victim in that cause, opposite of my agressive thoughts against him. Some time can pass, but I will never forget that big abuse. My anger wants to break free, even if he is finishing in the city's court. I am going to take every punishment, only to stab him in the evil heart for once.
As the talking room is cleaned and brushed finally, I am going to the washroom to doctor my deep cuts. I don't want any marks, which contain my hits forever. I don't even want any wrong memories about the pushes against every thing, of my broken limbs and the worst words, that are falling at me like bread and fish from the blue heaven.

In some moments I do exactly know, that I am never getting a happy live. A happy ever after follows the same lead. My hands are facing my ellbows, holding them tightly around my chest. My future lays in the hands of my family and firm. I have no control about my suroundings, as I am wishing constantly.
You would tell me to get a back, but I can't do that. Every time I feel like getting respect for myself, my fear appears. That I would be falling deeper than before, which is actually a hyperbel. I am on the lowest niveau ever, I can't fall to the ground, if I am there. Ha, today I am really funny.

Tears are watering on my cheeks, down to the grey street. Truly, I am a hopless case, never finding any happiness or comfort in me or anybody else. Dragging myself to the city river, I enjoy the strong moving water. It is my place to concentrate on the right parts of the whole world. The thoughts about self suicide or a quick death seem to be  extinguished, as I am looking at the blue surface.

Little drops of water are spurting by litte animals. Frogs are croaking unendlessly, the wind is brushing through the woodland, so I am enjoying my free time. For a few moments I hope to be here forever. Never having to worry about my future, no guessing, if I am living tomorrow or be taken in a grave, like my true father at the cementery. Looking at my second-hand watch, it is already time to go home. Home is a horrible place without any emotional relations. I can feel the wounds at my back again, seperating the fresh bindings. A frown is put on my face, as I pull the doorbell. As the punchingbag I am not allowed to get a key, so I must meet a true family member. Just like my stepfather in the door frame. "Good afternoon, Sir", is my natural greeting, otherwise I would be punished for disrepect. In my family it is certain to get involved in abuse and anger issues. My parents and my two stepbrothers plus myself are members of a conservative sect. Since I am a little kid of seven years, I can only imagine it that way:
1) Never do something wrong, unless you want their fists on your body.
2) You must follow the rules, which are made by the greatest.
3) At the age of twentyfive you get married off with a guy in the sect.
So you have litte of an option to get away, because it is really hard to get over your parental education. It feels like betrayal, even if you are beaten every day to trash. Blue points are a definitely evidence for my badly treatment.

Obviously nobody cares enough to look even at me directly.
"Make dinner. Your Lady will be here in an hour. In the matter of fact, a suitor is coming at our place to, so you should wear something nice to please him."
I do exactly know, what the meaning has to be. Something low cutted and high bottomed. You must show your girlies, so he can see your offers perfectly.
My religion is really something suspectly. A woman like a piece of meat, as if I am not having any right to do, what I really want. Every human has the same equality, so it is inhuman not to follow them. Even diverse critical countries accept them as a daily activity. Huh, I am to desperate to have a great life. Only if I could live my dreams...

No, I should not thinking about something so irreal. Now I must preparing dinner, a noodle soup with beef. After that a good smelling lasagne, kind of homemade. Today I can eat with my so called family, because a suitor is here. Otherwise I would stay at the side, only taking orders to fullfil their needs for eat and drinks. The rests are considered for myself, if I had a good behaviour or our dog can feed on the wonderful rests. Sometimes I am on a lower level as our family dog Rufus. Okay, I can say the truth, I am a slave in my own family. Hurra. Cutting the bleeding meat into the water, I let it cooking. Between the boiling noodles and well doing beef, I lay the lasagne plates and the sausage plus cheese on a oven tablett. At the mean time I let it doing on itself, so I am waiting for a few minutes to let the products get ready. The culinary soup is ready to serve and the lasagne in roundabout ten minutes. Unless I want to get punished for letting my family and my suitor starving, I am decorating the desk and miscing drinks for the start. I bring them outside as the doorbell is loudly ringing.
"Hello. Do come in. I'm Olivia. Dinner is ready, I must only fetch the rest of my family. You can sit at the desk", I show him the way. Apperently, I must be a good looking catch, because he hits my ass pretty hard, so I'm falling forward. A step rescues myself of the bad hurr afterwards, but I choose to look normal, as if nothing happened. The question is: Who cares, if something is happening to me? I am a lone wolf amongst bad people. The air is breezing my ears, I couldn't go faster upstairs to signale my parents and brothers the appeariance of my suitor. They come rushing out of their rooms, to start the dinner.
As we are sitting and eating like true society members, my father starts to talk. At first about themes like weather or new inventions. As the dialogue reaches good ten minutes, the issue comes to handle. Me. In the matter of fact, my suitor Mr. Frank Burlon asks for my hand and my father gets a amount of money. I will never know how much I'm costing, but I can say, it is not a really high price.

"Twothousand. Much more and I am off. She is fragile, maybe she lasts ten more years, but that is nothing. She is going to be broken in a few month. I don't need a mindless creature."

These words are hurting me deeply. I am looking at my plate, so nobody can see me tearing. It is a shame. Truly, I am not worth it.

"She is a decent cook and for that price, she is the best you will get." Father's words let the intruder think about his choices. Either he takes me as his wife, so he can get a low priced cook, or else he is going off without anything valueable. It is a question of good managing.

"I take her. But I expect all the foreign things, because I am still in charge. If she lasts not longer than two years, I will get my money back."

"Olivia. Come on, a little bit faster. Pack your luggage and go with your future husband. He is a very important man, so he has not so much time unlike you", my brother cries upstairs.

I needed only a absolute time of ten minutes to push all my stuff in one coover and be ready. It is really not long, but for them it seems apperently like a eternity.

Now I am sitting in a car, driving to my next house to care off. But I am very good at imaging that I am replaceable. I am really not worth of a second thought, less a short amount of words.

"Have you any work to do?" The old man asks me rudely.

"Yes, Sir", is my answer. I can just hope that I may continue work, if I will be a great slave. What should I do without it? It would be a true torture, only being at my new home to cook and take the beats in. Actually I am not a punching bag to be whipped at every chance. Sadly, it is my daily routine, from which I cannot break free. My mind ist one of the subdominant kind, I do only overthink all things, so it is to late to handle my issues.

"I want you to break the contract. You have more time without working for minimal use. You are just here to bring me joys and be a good wife to fullfil all done needs. Breakfast, then lunch and at last dinner for my first family. You as my second wife, are going to bear me boys, because of my last wife, I only have two useless daughters. But in three years they are in an age to marry, so we will have our calm, if you can last so long."

After his little speech, I am afraid. What happens to me, when I can't please him enough? Will I be murdered or may I be dying on my own task. I haven't thougt clearly about suicide yet, but it will be a possibility to get away from this hell hole.

Terrible Life

The ride is over. I´m stepping out from the car and take my luggage with me. My new master is showing me our room, so I can put my clothes in the wardrobe. As I am arranging my few pieces, he is watching me behind my back. My shoulders are really tense under his eyes, so there is a feeling like falling to the ground. It is really heavy, a stone on your arms, I can´t hold my stuff any more. Pretty ridiculous, if anyone is watching the scene. Actually, I would be glad, so he can free me, maybe.

Finally, I am ready, so I am turning around, only to see him leaning at the doorframe. His fingers are symbolizing me to go after him, he wants to show me something. Hopefully, it is something not so cruelly, after my stepfather John, I have the feeling that I can´t take any more. Mr. Frank Burlon is going to the kitchen entrance, because I am the new cook in this household. Typically, I am the mistress of the tiny place, until I am a bird in the heaven. Yeah, this will happen never. Honestly, I am happy with my surroundings, unless my master is a gruel man, too.

His finger is showing me the electronics, how to use them correctly, so it is nothing alien to me. Frankly, he could be nicer than my like-to-be father John, if there`s not this silly feeling in my gut. As I am stepping nearer to the oven, I can sense the touch of a hand on the small of my back.

“So, little wife, show me your value. In order to watch your abilities, I am working on the kitchen table. Cook something worthy”, he says with an aggressive mood. His body is now sitting on a chair, which is staying in the opposite corner of the big room. A few seconds are his eyes on me, then on his screen. Actually, working is better than babysitting of a stupid woman, who hasn´t any education or manners, because of her background. Before I have been jobbing at a tiny office, only serving coffee and cleaning the rooms twice a week to get some money for my family, of course. Otherwise I would be a total poor excuse of a daughter, not bringing some input. My stepfather John always said, that I am something undefinable, not being allowed to have an own opinion of the world, only saying yes and no. What would I do for freedom? Anything available. But I lack of brain and adolescence ways to survive in the city. I can´t drive, read or communicate with others, so I have no perspectives in economy houses or social buildings.

“Your meat is smelling like hell. Do you know of the costs I must pay for your failure? Probably not, you do know nothing.” I feel like a branded cow, the slap was going in the middle of my face, meeting my left eye and a part of my nose. Immediately the swelling begins, hurting like a box in your belly. Maybe my nose is broken, there is blood running down my face, into my mouth and all over my T-shirt. My little lunch is turning within me, turning around, wanting to move out of my body, onto the floor. But if I am doing such stuff, I would be slapped again and again, no end in sight. Karma is not by my side.

“I beg for forgiveness, I am sorry. I make it better next time”, I respond to his abuse. His hand is twitching again, as I am looking at him.

“You should have made it better, but now it is for the trash. I order something from the Chinese next corner, but only for my family. You will survive today without dinner, as your rightful punishment. Go upstairs, I am meeting you for bedtime.” I´m feeling really useless, like a shell of something irreparable. Slowly I am going to the room, never looking back, because of his rude behaviour. With trembling hands, I am opening the door, pushing it behind me to the certain ´click´.

After a few minutes, I am sitting on the edge of the bed, not looking at it. To big is my fright of the future. What will happen? I am scared. I have no experience in such shameful things, nobody seemed to be concerned about my duties as a wife. I have never known how to make babies, only a dialogue between two women has educated my little brain, that it needs an anti-baby-pill to get rid of potential babies, if you are too young or it was an unexpected fault. But I have nothing of said stuff, no “condoms” or “pills” to prevent, or any experience in sexual ways. In my mouth is a bitter tasting from my thoughts, it makes my belly turning around, never coming out, only building up to a hurricane, only wanting to explode and taking the most terrible crashes with it.

To come down, I am taking a short shower in the bathroom and drying my hair in the best way possible. My knees are shaking together, turning into a sea of pudding. Obviously, my husband is arriving at his room, because of loud steps coming from outside. My feet are fastening, only to make my man happy, not wanting any slaps from him. Rudeness was never in my manners.

Sitting on the chair, one of three in the bedroom, before a desk, I want to burying myself. Never guessed to be in such a situation, only to create a new scene, hopefully my feeling is false. The steps stop, abruptly the door is swinging open and my wonderful husband is here, in all his glamour and shine. “I think the dinner was better than your work, actually as your future preparations, too. I am content about the Chinese work, making your stomach full and happy. But my desires are not stilled, yet. So little Olive, go serve yourself and lie down to the bed. It seems like a good beginning after all.”

He is saying that like I´m a pet, not counting more than a thing in a trashcan. Yeah, never guessed how great life can be. My head says loud and clearly no to the order, but orders are orders, even if you want do demonstrate. I am weak in mind and body, so there´s no chance to win a fight. And where should I go afterwards? It´s a simple act, you are surviving it, no more crazy thoughts.

Apparently, my moving is to slow, so I am pushed down to the layers. On the belly, I can´t turning around, because he is sitting above, on my back. My arms and legs are to jelly, like pudding. His fingers are slipping fast trough my clothes, the only feeling my body contains is throwing up again and again. In the middle of the rape it´s overwhelming. My puke is coming out like a waterfall, but it´s only water, with a sour tasting, which makes me do it in repeat. The last I can sense is the dark that is pulling me down to the grounded earth in my dreams.

The man is slipping away from the unconscious woman on his bed. After his settled desire, he sees now use for her. So, he is standing up and going to the shower, hoping that she is awaking now. His brain wants to beat the crap out of her, never stopping. But she is to useless, giving up her non-existence resistance to easily. There is no fun in that whole marriage and after 51 years of living, nothing erects his happiness or smiling any more. Not only is the sect a boring way to improve the hierarchy, but to bring out the worst of men like him. He lived in the private group since his birth, never really focused on something different, new and with future. Only the old ways are the right, like his ancestors said. The old and wise dead persons made the rightful decisions, bringing misère on their children. The truth lies in the shadow, waiting for the lightning and the thunder. Maybe in a few days, months or years the sect will be disturbed, punished and destroyed. Yes, I think the women will make their lost up, standing for their womanly features and containing themselves like real humans. Until then I am behaving like a total crap, controlling and pulling Olivia´s life down, to hell itself. Perhaps she will be the one, who starts a revolution.

The towel around my hips is slightly going down as I am stepping out to the bedroom. My dear one is lying in the middle of my once great bed and in a sea of puked things. Actually, it is only smelling water, so she must be starving a little bit longer than since today. Hmm, what should I do now with her or better said with her body?

My brain is feeling like a piece of mud, a little bit like pudding and my eyes are blinking around. Where am I? I´m on a hard floor, under me a dark green carpet. It is more convenient than my old room, so much I can tell you. My arms and legs aren´t alive any more, only my face is showing up and down. Can I stand up? I am going to try it. My elbows are going to the side and my knees are facing my head. Slowly I´m rising up, the sun is no comparison to me in the morning. Oh my god, I am like a philosophe, it´s unbearable. That´s a phrase I heard from my last boss, who had no reality left in his right mind. Yeah, there´s a magnificent feeling in my mouth, hmm, is it puke? I don´t know, but it´s quite the same. A difference is not knowable. A few dots are dancing on my sight, as I am glancing at the furnishing. A bed, a couch and a desk is in the room, not very striking.

Leaning on the wall, my hand starts to hurt a little bit. I am a weak person, really, that´s the truth. Frankly, I wouldn´t dare to cross my husband, but I need to go into the bathroom, not only to wash myself, but to bring my mind into clarity. If you didn´t know what happened a night before, which way would you go? Confrontation or escape? It makes no difference in that cause, because my feet are always fleeing before any dangerous situations. Faster than your eyes can follow, I am on the way to shower my thoughts away. Nobody wants a stinking female in their house, I can be sure not anybody follows me.

The room contains two washbasins, a bathtub and a shower with a cupboard next to it. Even if the man in the house can be a rich person, there is no sign for wealth. No gold or silver, whether diamonds nor rubies, nowhere decorations in sight which can tell you stories of too much money. Maybe he is not such an arrogant fool, ha, more likely I am the princess of the heaven. My clothing is faster on the ground, as you can count to three and now I am under the showerhead. But how to get the thing on, is the other question. Maybe I can push the right button, he is red, or the left, which has the colour blue. No idea what to do, I decide for the red one, what could worse happen? At my old home, I only had a bucket full of cold water, so I am happy about this called shower.

My fingers are pulling the turner and change it upwards, until there is a stop. The water is starting to drop onto my head, it is filled with wonderful warmth, but then the horror begins. Why is this so hot? My skin is burning like the living hell and I don´t know how to stop it. Panic arises in me, I even haven´t considered leaving, yet.

 

 

 

Hotter than hell

 

I don´t know if some mighty spirit has pushed me outside, but now I am lying on the floor. The shower is running wild, on the other side I am in freedom of my panic attack. The security is from short time, because somebody shakes my shoulders, so I am slippering wildly about the floor like a dying fish. Air is rushing through my lungs, never ending the torture of breaths. My skin is burning from the surprising hot water. I´ve never thought of such a burning fluid, have never known of its existence in the shower. The hands, which have grabbed me before, are pulling me to the bathtub. Somebody wants me drowned, no difference, hopefully the hurting goes away, I couldn´t care less about my life at this point of time. Something is running about my legs, wandering upwards to the belly and my arms, at last my face, then it repeats.

My voice is crying all over the room, the silhouette is holding my mouth. “Psst. I don´t mean any harm to you, so be quiet. We don´t want to wake up the neighbours, do we? So, shut up, damn girl!”, the man is hissing at me. Actually, the fear is bigger than the burning feeling under my skin, which happens to be away. As I am looking at my body, everywhere is red flesh, no wonder my breathing is a living hell. A sharp sting happens to my left leg, my husband has taken a knife and removes the dead parts. Why hurts it so much? My eyes are watering to the water in the bathtub, filling itself from me. Hah, ironical. If this moment weren´t so hurtful, I would laugh about the tragedy that takes me out to a realistically zombie. “Hold still. I try to stich your skin together, I can´t if your moving around like a fox with rabies.” My body is slowly going to be alien from my brain, so I have no control. Frankly, I can understand his shouts, but I can´t do anything against the force of nature.

His grip is getting stronger around my leg, it seems like a century until he is ready and changes the leg. The pain begins from the next immediately, so my thoughts can´t focus. Really annoying, if you want rainbow and unicorns, but get burns and fresh meat. Yeah, black humour works not in my favour. I am feeling like a potato on the barbecue, slowly backing from outside to inside, which I only know because my family and me have been at a party by a cousin four years ago. That was a special inviting, because they know the bad ways in which my stepfather and the rest is, so they wanted to help me. Clearly, that was no help in all, cause of my brother, who is a pain in the ass, if he can punish his sister. Frankly, he used this situation, everybody saw the cake with lemonade on my dress, which was something wonderful. Since then I only had two T-Shirts and trousers left. It´s kind of miserable if you can´t afford clothes, even if you are working your arse off.

“Now we are binding your arms and the rest. Think of something great, something wonderful, which contains your mind fully, because now starts the pain. Your legs were nothing against it.” Oh no, I have already used this method of thinking. What should I do now? If the hurting really starts to become more and more, I must cry, otherwise my teeth are shattering together. What want I more? Teeth ore skin? Hmm, a pretty awkward decision I must make. I do nothing of them.

He´s right, the pain is more intensive than before, I must control my mouth to the fullest, unless I want boxes from him. Not more torture than I can afford, this is the law in my case. “The right arm is not the worst, but your left is bad and your head is wide open. Unless I want to be caught, I can´t take you to the hospital. Gladly, I had a job as a doctor-to-be a few years ago, so I can help you a little bit. The rest must you take over, see, you can get healthy again. Okay, so healthy you were, as a skinny little girl.”

His words make my ache not better. My head begins slowly to throb, getting more in the direction of ugly mess. In order to prevent myself from any more, I can´t take, I am pushing my head against the porcelain behind me. “Hey, stop. You are a crazy woman”, he holds my head in a tight grip, so I can´t hurt myself any more. My plan is going under my hopes. Shit happens.

“I am taking you now, lying you onto the ground and you are holding still”, he orders me. I can´t do even more, so I am shutting my eyes for acceptation. He must misinterpret my doing, because his hands are open them in an instant. “You are not dying in my arms. Either far away or with somebody else or alone, but not in my presence. I can´t withstand such a death, I hope you can forgive me about that”, he confesses to me. Maybe he thought I can´t hear his words, but only my sight is conquered from black dots, not my ears. “No, no, no, you are not sleeping here. I bandage your head now, make a few stitches and give you a cold bag, so the pain will lessen. No, you get a many cold bags, looking at you, you can need them”, his voice is drifting away.

Sometimes I can feel somebody changes the cold bags at my body, sometimes I hear whispers, as if I am not alone. A few moments later, it can be minutes, hours or days, somebody touches my face. It´s hot, so much I can tell you, but nothing I can´t handle.

In the middle of an enormous fever, my mind sets a plan. Maybe I can die and left the world without any harm? I wait until nobody is in the room, which happens from time to time, so I can grab the knife next to me. He has used it to cut little pieces of bread, so he can put them into a glass of water. It should help me to gain weight, cause of my delirium. I am swinging my head from side to side, only to become weirder every second. It´s a daily occasion to question myself of the why. Why was I born into an unloving family, never gotten any piece in comfort? Yeah, at last I should be thankful, it could have been worse than that. Rather ignorance and a little bit of harm, than an everyday punishment and no work. Even if my job was not the golden mid of a life goal, I have been far away from terrible hits and I could make my own stuff, if nobody was around.

A new wave of hot blood hits my head, so I can´t focus on the right words, I can´t describe the unwell feeling of death. How do I know the end of my life? I can smell the captivating aroma of lilies and roses, gentian and lavender. The heaviness in my arms and legs is lost, now I am in another world, it is new to my senses, the air is clean and I can think clearly of my life. In my old world it will be forgotten, nobody has known me, but now I am here forever, I do know myself and can be in the utterly enjoyment of the moment. My soul is glimmering through my skin, slowly it is rising through my skin, breaking free into the cosmos, never coming back again. Only my corpse is wandering through the realms, in search of something new to contain the emptiness. Like an ocean my body starts to get crazy. In all corners, the blood is filling the nothing with storms and a black fluid. What is happening to me? I thought I am dying, but why is pain crossing every bone and muscle? All the passing time is under a great amount of hurt, only my will to understand the whole thing, lets me stand up and not falling onto the ground. Truly it is not my utmost wish to die again, but now maybe the real death is coming forward to greet me, releasing me from this damned space, bringing me to a new space of beauty and harmony, a girl can wish.

A hand on my shoulder is taking me by surprise. Who belongs this part of a body? Hopefully it is not a criminal, because I wouldn´t know what to do. Should I kick him where the pain is the greatest, if he is a man? What must I do with a female Casanova? Why must I be in such a situation? Can´t I be a happy, naïve girl with a white dress and seven little men? Whether I am a happy, naïve girl nor have I a white dress to put on. Actually, I am no beauty to be a protagonist a story, which has never happened. Frankly, I am a coward to think something like this and be in such a difficult situation.

Not fast my feet are turning around, only to be greeted by a man. He has the height of a mountain and his arms are so thick like the pair of my legs together. His face has a few deeper cuts which give him a scaring look. My face is apparently showing my emotions about him, because he is taking my arm and pulling me with him. I don´t want to question him, what will happen to me, because I do know I won´t get any useful answers. His grip is tightening around my biceps, not granting me any space to make a bee line. I thought I have got ride off demanding men in my life as I died. No, even after my death I could put my head into sand, so I would never hear of them again. I don´t like to be weak against such muscles. A little sound is escaping my mouth and I hold surprised my breath. I didn’t want to make anything suspicious, not wanting any harm. I have learnt to be obedient and not doing anything rebellious. Actually, I want to be forgotten, never mentioned, so I can have my peace and comfort with my own, uninteresting self. It could be so wonderful, so magnificent, but I am hanging at a man, who has a monstrous height.

“You can speak. I thought you are mute, having a defect, you know.” He is explaining me the word. I have never heard of “mute”, I thought all people can talk, but now I am a little bit sorry for this class of people. “I have a question, before I bring you up to the leader. Why are you in the Soulless realm? I have never seen any humans here, you are the first.” Why am I here? I really don´t know. “I am thinking, I died on earth”, is the only sentence I am speaking to his muscular and intimidating frame. I cross my arms around my torso, not wanting to be around him any more. I don´t like his presence, too much thoughts of my last, memorable night under the living.

“That doesn´t make much sense, but I bring you up to our master. He is expecting you, because his pets have found you there, outside. Don´t be afraid of his favourites, they don´t make any attempts to eat you, unless you are meaning danger. When we are invited to the throne, you will be kneeing before him and take your eyes to the ground. It is safer for you, you could be a threat we haven´t known of. Come on.”

 

Impressum

Texte: Keira Fight
Bildmaterialien: Google
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 14.03.2018

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