Alexis Coe - Alice + Freda Forever. A Murder in Memphis

Christiane F. is an amazing young woman, but she also has a lot of problems. Shes smart, bold, charismatic, and ready for anything, but in the housing projects of 1970s Berlin, anything has the tendency to go a little too far. At 12, Christiane starts smoking pot and drinking. At 13, shes snorting heroin and going to clubs. And at 14, shes shooting up before going to school, and selling her body in exchange for her next fix.

Christianes rapid descent into heroin addiction and prostitution is shocking, but the longing for acceptance, the boredom, and the thrilling risks that fill out the rest of her existence will be familiar to everyone. Her unfiltered account offers an incredible testimony about the temptations, the perils, and the struggles that pervade teenage lifewhere every decision seems hugely important, because in the end, every decision is.

This new translation of Christiane F.s iconic autobiography also includes dozens of original photographs showing Zoo Station as it really was.

Praise for previous editions:

...Riveting...The Sunday Times (London)

Chilling...The Evening Telegraph

Outrageous as well as compelling... a note of hope amidst desperation...British Journal of Addiction

Zoo Station
The Story of Christiane F.
by Christiane F.

2013 by Zest Books LLC
First published in 2013 by Zest Books
35 Stillman Street, Suite 121, San Francisco, CA 94107
www.zestbooks.net
Created and produced by Zest Books, San Francisco, CA

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or used in any form or by any meansgraphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval systemswithout the written permission of the publisher.

Teen Nonfiction / Biography & Autobiography / Social Issues / Drugs, Alcohol, Substance Abuse

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012936083

ISBN: 978-1-936976-22-5

Cover Design: Tanya Napier
Book Design: Keith Snyder
Translation: Christina Cartwright
All photos courtesy of Deutscher Taschenbuch Verlag Typeset in Sabon

Manufactured in China
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Every effort has been made to ensure that the information presented is accurate. The publisher disclaims any liability for injuries, losses, untoward results, or any other damages that may result from the use of the information in this book.

Copyright text and photographs Stern Verlag 2009 by CARLSEN Verlag GmbH, Hamburg, Germany First published in Germany under the title WIR KINDER VOM BAHNHOF ZOO All rights reserved

It was all incredibly exciting. My mom had been packing suitcases and boxes for days. We were going to start a new life together.

I had just turned six, and I was going to start attending school right after we finished with the move. While my mom was packing and getting more and more anxious, I hung out almost every day on the Vlkl farm. I waited for the cows to be herded into the barn for milking. I fed the pigs and the chickens, and ran around and played crazy games in the hayloft with the other kids. I was able to carry the farm's kittens around with me. It was a wonderful summer, the first one that I remember consciously enjoying.

I knew that we were going to leave soon and move to a large faraway city named Berlin. My mom flew ahead because she wanted to set up the apartment first. My little sister and my dad and I followed a couple of weeks later. It was the first time that my sister and I had ever flown anywhere. Everything was unbelievably exciting.

My parents had told us wonderful things about the huge apartment with the six big rooms that we'd soon be living in. My parents were going to make a lot of money in Berlin. My mom said that we would each have our own big room. They were going to buy really nice furniture. She would describe what our rooms would look like in vivid detail. I know, because as a kid I never stopped fantasizing about that room. In my imagination, it became more and more beautiful with every passing day.

I'll never forget what the apartment looked like when we actually arrived. I felt this deep-seated fear when I was in it. It was so big and empty that I was afraid I would get lost. If you spoke loudly enough, there was a spooky echo, too.

Only three rooms had any furniture in them. In the kids' room there were two beds and an old kitchen cabinet for our toys; in the second room was my parents' bed; and in the biggest room we only had an old couch and a couple of chairs. That's how we lived in Berlin-Kreuzberg, on the north bank of the Spree River.

After a few days, I finally took a chance and rode my bike down the street all by myself because I saw a few of the older kids playing outside. In the town where I grew up, the big kids always looked out for the little kids, and played with them. But right away the kids out front said, What's she want here? and took away my bike. When I got it back it had a flat tire and a bent rim.

My dad spanked me because the bike was broken. From then on, I only rode my bike around our six rooms.

Three of the rooms were actually supposed to function as an office because my parents wanted to run a dating service out of the apartment. But the desks and armchairs that my parents talked about never arrived. The kitchen cabinet stayed in the bedroom that I shared with my sister.

So now, instead of living in the big place in Berlin-Kreuzberg, we were confined to two and a half small rooms in an eleventh-floor apartment. The big, expensive furniture that my mom always talked about would've never fit into the room now meant for us kids.

Gropiusstadt: the projects. Home to 45,000 people, but mainly just a forest of high-rises, with some patches of green and shopping centers in between. From far away, it looked new and well taken care of. But when you got up close, you realized that the whole place reeked of piss and shitbecause of all the dogs and kids that lived there. The stairwells smelled the worst.

My parents hated the trashy kids who treated the staircases like their own personal bathrooms, but most of the time it wasn't their fault. I figured that out the first time I played outside and needed to pee. By the time the elevator arrived and I'd made it up to the eleventh floor, I'd already wet myself. My dad gave me a spanking. After the same thing happened a few more times, and after a few more spankings, I learned to just find a place where nobody could see me. And since people in high-rises could see almost everywhere, the safest place to pee out of sight was in a staircase.

On the streets of Gropiusstadt, I was known as the stupid country kid. I didn't have the same toys as everyone elseI didn't even have a water gun. I wore different clothes. I talked differently.