Träumer

It was cold for late-April, the wind ruffling her dress and making her shiver. Emma picked up her pace, spotting a crowd of adoring fans up ahead. Maybe she was scared of them. They followed wherever Bill went. She shook her head and continued down the 3AM streets.

She could still hear party music off in the distance. Tons of afterparties were going on all around Berlin. It had been years since Berlin had hosted the EMA's, so this was a special occassion. The biggest stars in the world, all gathered in one place.

Emma felt lucky for having chosen to study abroad that semester. It seemed the center of the world had been Berlin that spring. It was more amazing than she could have ever imagined when she said goodbye to her friends and boarded that plane.

She clutched her purse tight, still not trusting the dark streets, especially not now with everyone out partying. She'd gone home to change into another dress. It was something Emma hoped Bill would like. She was really going to impress him, but at the same time there was also that thought about making Tom jealous. Everyone has their little thing with Tom, but then they move on to bigger and better things. Emma's bigger and better thing was Bill.

She had kept her wavy blonde hair down and her dress was black and sequined. Bill loved flashy stuff. He was just like a little kid when it came to sparkles and sequins. Her heels made her almost six feet tall, but that gave her an air of confidence.

Emma was getting closer to the crowd. But with every step she began to hear different cries. Some people were crying, some even screaming. Some praying loudly in German, others even singing that anti-suicide theme song - Spring Nicht. She started running, wondering what almost hundreds of people were crowded around.

Her heart started to pound inside her throat as she pushed through the crowd and she tried to block out everyone's voices. They were all saying terrible things and Emma figured she could make her own judgement about what was going on when she got to the front of the group.

It was already roped off. A crime scene, maybe. But there was no yellow tape. It was thick ropes holding you back from the horrible sight.

When your highest diety is dead, especially killed, all you can do is lash out at someone around you. Killing another fan in anguish is not an aquitable crime, believe me.

And there are always the crazies that want to drench themselves in the blood, maybe even taste it, put it in a jar for later. Sure, you can get as close to a god as you want, when they're dead. Reach out and touch all of his cold, dead body. Because if that's the only chance you had to be close to him, you know you would do it.

The police know how this happened because they're not fangirls. Any one of them would come up to a person in the sobbing crowd and tell them simply that this was a suicide, that he jumped from the roof. Emma looked up at the building and shivered, but yet did not cry. What a horrible death under such a beautiful sky.

And then a fan would yell at the policeman, tell him he would never do that because that boy was the one with the song about not jumping. That song had obviously saved so many teens that think their lives are worthless from killing themselves. "Why wouldn't he listen to his own song?" they would cry.

Emma swallowed, her breath caught in her throat. But she would not be a number. She wouldn't have her tears contribute to some sort of memorial pool in front of his dead body. All she wanted was everyone gone. She wanted his body gone from the concrete. It didn't belong there. It belonged in a nice, soft pillowy bed were he could comfortably drift off to heaven.

Ten minutes later and the group of policemen announced that all must leave the premesis so the ordeal could be taken care of. They would all go home and watch the news for every detail, every rumor. They'd turn this into a murder and make him a hero, wouldn't they?

"Goodbye," Emma said to the air. Saying goodbye to someone you barely know is difficult. It's even more difficult when you're in love with that person.

"Bill Kaulitz dead in a 'Don't Jump'-esque suicide." Now wouldn't that be a great headline?